From the Antilles to the Andes, communities are demanding the right to decide the future of their territories. The mining industry has ravaged territories throughout the region for centuries, but in recent years a new wave of resource extraction has emerged, driven by growing global demand for minerals considered essential to technology, energy, and military supply chains.
In this collaborative report, produced in partnership with our CRE collaborators Plan Colibrí, Center for Economic and Social Rights–CDES, Maíra Institute, the Itinerant University of Resistance in Haiti, Relaves Foundation, Fundación Étnica Integral (FEI), and Find an Independent Mining Expert (FAIME), we analyze the main trends in mineral extraction in Latin America through eight case studies in six countries, highlighting the history of resistance by affected communities and their vision for the future.
The central question of this report is: critical minerals—for whom? For the communities living in the territories where they are extracted, the promised benefits rarely compensate for the impacts of mining, such as air, water, and soil pollution. In the face of this, communities not only resist mining projects but also build alternatives based on collective organization, the defense of the commons, food sovereignty, and the preservation of ancestral knowledge, placing life at the center. Facing great risks, these peoples and communities continue, day by day, to defend Mother Earth and remind us that another way of living in and caring for the land remains possible.
Table of contents
Case studies: Stories of Resistance
The Rush for Minerals for the Energy Transition
The sun is just beginning to rise over the Salar del Hombre Muerto in Catamarca, Argentina, and the morning air remains cold and dry. A sudden gust of wind kicks up dust from the industrial facilities spread across the territory. Communities are increasingly concerned about water shortages: the flow of the Trapiche River has diminished, and one of the branches of the wetland has dried up. A few kilometers away, behind fences and newly opened roads, vast evaporation ponds are filling up with brine pumped from the ground to extract lithium, one of the minerals now driving global supply chains for batteries and other technologies considered strategic.
Scenes like this are repeated across different territories in Latin America and the Caribbean. In Andean páramos, communities watch as mining projects advance into ecosystems that supply water to entire regions. Along mining corridors in the southern Peruvian Andes, trucks loaded with minerals travel along community roads as social conflicts and the criminalization of land defenders increase. In Central America, new mining concessions threaten to expand the industry’s reach.
The mining industry has devastated territories throughout the region for centuries. In recent years, however, a new extractive wave has emerged, driven by growing global demand for minerals considered essential to technological, energy, and military supply chains. Unlike previous cycles, this expansion is increasingly promoted under the banner of the energy transition and technological innovation. It is intensifying extraction in territories that have already been exploited for generations while opening new extraction frontiers in ecosystems and communities where mining previously had a more limited presence.
Mining has become one of the main types of development projects associated with negative impacts across the region, accounting for more than one-third of the cases supported by the Community Resource Exchange (CRE). Minerals such as lithium, copper, nickel, cobalt, and rare earth elements — many of which are found in significant reserves across Latin America — are now in demand by global industrial supply chains, including those serving the energy and electronics sectors. The salt flats of Argentina, Bolivia, and Chile hold more than half of the world’s lithium deposits, forming what is known as the lithium triangle, while Chile and Peru account for nearly half of global copper extraction.
In this context of expanding extractivism, communities across different countries face similar challenges: a lack of access to information about projects, the absence or weakening of consultation processes, regulatory frameworks that favor mining investment, and increasing reprisals against those who defend their territories. At the same time, these communities are developing strategies of resistance, documenting impacts, pursuing legal action, and building connections with national and international networks.
For many Indigenous peoples, quilombola communities, Afro-descendant communities, and other traditional communities, territory is more than a physical or economic space. It is the foundation of their ways of life, knowledge systems, spiritual practices, self-governance, and collective continuity. The expansion of extractive projects therefore also raises fundamental questions about peoples’ self-determination and respect for their collective rights.
What are minerals for the energy transition?
Transition minerals are chemical elements now considered strategic for key sectors of the global economy as they seek to move away from fossil fuels. These sectors include electronics, transportation, and the military industry. In many cases, the objective is not to extract a mineral as such, but to obtain specific elements — such as lithium, nickel, molybdenum, or tantalum — from naturally occurring mineral deposits.
They are called “critical” because they are considered essential to the functioning of certain technologies. This designation can make their extraction appear indispensable. Among the best-known examples are lithium, copper, rare earth elements, tantalum, and nickel, all of which are in high demand for manufacturing batteries, electronic devices, electricity grids, and other technologies considered strategic under today’s energy and technological model.
However, in the race to extract these minerals, the prevailing narrative has overlooked the threat that extraction poses to the natural resources on which life depends, including water, clean air, and arable land. Their production is concentrated in a small number of countries or depends on vulnerable supply chains, raising economic and geopolitical concerns for the states and industries that rely on them.
Latin America at the Center of the New Race for Minerals
“They want to colonize us again. This is Latin America’s opportunity to refuse to accept being merely a supplier of minerals for them.” These were the words of Brazil’s president, Lula, at the CELAC–Africa Forum this past March.
Latin America and the Caribbean hold significant reserves of lithium, copper, nickel, graphite, and rare earth elements, minerals considered strategic for the energy transition. This places the region at the center of a new global race for raw materials. Growing demand is part of a restructuring of global production chains, as countries in the Global North seek to secure reliable access to minerals for their technology and energy industries. In many cases, this expansion reproduces a historical pattern of extractive specialization, in which Latin American countries export raw materials while processing, technology, and added value remain outside the region.
To accelerate their mining expansion plans, transnational corporations and governments are promoting legal reforms that weaken environmental protections and restrict civic space. These measures not only reduce oversight and public participation mechanisms but also seek to silence critical voices, making it harder for social and environmental organizations to access funding and support.
Indigenous and peasant communities, along with social organizations, warn that this mining expansion could deepen existing “sacrifice zones” and socio-environmental conflicts in territories with long histories of extractivism. It also threatens territories that had not previously been exposed to mining and whose communities have safeguarded the balance between people and nature for generations.
Critical Minerals and Geopolitical Rivalry
The current race for so-called ‘critical’ minerals forms part of a new global geopolitical dispute. Although they are often presented as indispensable for the energy transition, these minerals are also essential for the digital transition and the military industry. Resources such as lithium, cobalt, nickel, copper and rare earths are used in batteries and renewable technologies as well as in drones, missiles and surveillance systems.
This forms part of the greenwashing narrative promoted by the mining industry in response to the climate crisis. Not only are these minerals being used to manufacture military technology, but the narrative surrounding their supposed scarcity and strategic importance also serves to justify security policies, increased military spending and an increasingly aggressive competition to secure access to them – almost always at the expense of territories and communities.
Against this backdrop, powers such as the United States, China and the European Union have strengthened their policies to secure the supply of these resources, forging closer links between mining, security and defence. In 2025, for example, the United States signed an agreement with the Democratic Republic of the Congo to obtain rare earths from the country in exchange for security. As a result, various analysts are warning of the consolidation of a new industrial-military-mining complex, in which mineral extraction is becoming a central component of both the technological transition and strategies for geopolitical power.
The role of development banks
and development finance institutions
Multilateral development banks and other international financial institutions (IFIs) are playing an increasingly active role in the expansion of mineral mining to support the energy transition in Latin America. IFIs such as the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB), the World Bank, the Development Bank of Latin America and the Caribbean (CAF) and Brazil’s National Bank for Economic and Social Development (BNDES) are positioning themselves in the region as strategic suppliers of lithium, copper, nickel and other minerals that are key to global supply chains. Through new initiatives, direct financing, technical assistance and support for regulatory reforms, these institutions aim to accelerate investment in the mining-related production chain.
The IDB, for example, recently launched the “LAC Minerals” initiative, presented as a strategy to connect Latin American mineral supply with global demand and strengthen regional value chains. Under the banner of “smart” and sustainable mining, the bank is promoting the digitalisation, automation and expansion of mining production to respond to the projected growth of the critical minerals market. At the same time, it promotes investment frameworks aimed at ensuring security of supply for industrialised economies such as the United States, the European Union, Japan and South Korea. In countries such as Mexico, the IDB has already expressed its interest in financing lithium-related projects and collaborating with state-owned companies such as Pemex to develop this strategic industry.
The LAC Minerals initiative is part of the new IDB Energy Sector Framework, approved in June 2026. The document highlights copper, lithium, nickel, and rare earth elements, among many others, as “indispensable for electricity systems, transportation, energy storage, digital technologies, modern infrastructure, industrial processes, and, increasingly, national security.” It identifies Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, and Peru as countries with significant mineral reserves on a global scale.
However, behind the rhetoric about sustainability, innovation, and the energy transition, affected communities denounce that this financing reinforces extractive models that prioritize the export of raw materials and the security of global supply chains over the rights of peoples and the protection of their territories. Although the banks acknowledge that social and environmental conflicts represent a “risk” to investments, their approach tends to focus on securing the so-called “social license to operate” and reducing obstacles to projects, rather than questioning the extractive model itself. In practice, this can translate into pressure to relax regulations, expedite permits, and suppress social opposition, while communities continue to face impacts on their water, ecosystems, and ways of life.
Stories of resistance: the energy transition
at whose expense?
The narrative put forward by companies and the governments that support them – reinforced by the mass media – portrays these mining projects as sustainable and respectful of the environment and local people. However, when we look at what is happening on the ground, we see a very different reality: one in which the affected communities are not consulted and where the impacts on ecosystems, on the lives of communities, their health and their cultures, are devastating.
For many indigenous peoples, communities of African descent and Quilombolas, and other traditional communities, territory is not merely a physical or economic space. It is the foundation of their ways of life, systems of knowledge, ancestral heritage, spiritualities, their own forms of governance and processes of collective reproduction. Bearing this in mind, the impacts of these extractive projects on the territories of these peoples are not solely environmental or economic. The damage to rivers, mountains, forests and other spaces of territorial significance also entails the severing of spiritual, historical and community ties that are fundamental to the continuity of their ways of life.
Below we present cases shared by the ‘Minerals for Transition’ exchange group, a CRE initiative that aims to enable territories affected by mining projects in the region to share experiences and strategies of resistance, map key financial actors, and build a collective narrative based on the stories and experiences of those living in the territories. This narrative stands in contrast to the corporate and institutional discourses that obscure the real impacts of these extractive models.
Ecuador: an expanding industry
The extraction of natural resources has been one of the pillars of Ecuador’s economic model for decades, first through oil and, more recently, through a growing focus on metal mining. Although gold mining has a long history in the country, large-scale industrial mining gained new momentum in recent decades, with the opening up to foreign investment and the promotion of copper and gold projects as part of a strategy to diversify exports and reduce dependence on oil. A milestone was the start of production in 2019 at Fruta del Norte in Zamora Chinchipe, the country’s first large-scale gold mine. Since then, successive governments have promoted the sector’s expansion as a source of revenue, employment, and investment, against a backdrop of dependence on raw material exports and fluctuations in international prices. However, this strategy has exacerbated tensions surrounding control over resources, the distribution of economic benefits, and the social and environmental costs of extractive activities.
Mining expansion—including industrial, artisanal, and small-scale operations—has increased pressure on indigenous and peasant territories, tropical forests, rivers, and protected areas. The boom in illegal gold mining has become a particular concern due to its rapid pace and its links to organized crime networks. According to the EcoCiencia Foundation, mining activity in the Punino area, between Napo and Orellana, affected some 1,422 hectares as of June 2024, and nearly 90% of the detected deforestation occurred outside authorized zones. In Napo, another analysis documented more than 1,700 hectares affected by mining activity between 2017 and 2024 in four areas linked to strategic watersheds.
The impacts of the mining industry in the country include the loss of forest cover, the alteration of river channels, soil erosion, and water contamination from mercury and other waste associated with gold extraction and processing. In addition to environmental degradation, the expansion of these illicit economies has fueled disputes over territorial control, extortion, threats, and violence against communities and land defenders. Research by Amazon Watch documents the growing presence of criminal organizations in mining areas and the risks they pose to the livelihoods and governance structures of indigenous peoples.
These developments are taking place against a backdrop of social unrest and political disputes over the country’s development model. Indigenous communities, peasant organizations, and environmental groups have for years been denouncing the impacts of mining projects and questioning whether their economic benefits compensate for the damage to the territories and affected populations. Among their main demands are respect for the right of indigenous peoples to free, prior, and informed consultation; guarantees of participation in environmental decision-making; and compliance with collective rights and the rights of nature recognized by the Ecuadorian Constitution. Resistance to mining projects has also led to protests, legal proceedings, and allegations of criminalization against those defending their territories. At the same time, the expansion of illegal mining poses additional challenges for a government whose capacity for oversight and control is insufficient in some hard-to-reach areas. Thus, the mining conflict in Ecuador is not limited to the tension between environmental conservation and economic growth: it also raises questions about who makes decisions regarding the territories, who benefits from the extraction of their resources, and who bears the social and ecological costs.
Cóndor Mountain Range: “Mirador” Mining Project
Project Context
Nestled in the heart of the Cordillera del Cóndor—a region of exuberant biodiversity and the ancestral territory of the Shuar people—lies the Mirador mining project, Ecuador’s first large-scale metal mine. Operated by EcuaCorriente S.A. (ECSA), a subsidiary of the Chinese state-owned consortium CRCC-Tongguan, the project is dedicated to the open-pit mining of copper, gold, and silver from the Mirador and Mirador Norte deposits. The project has been financed through a series of loans granted by Chinese banks and the China Development Bank (CDB).
Since the contract with the Ecuadorian government was signed in 2012 and construction began in 2015, the mining operation has been progressively expanding, including the construction of large tailings dams designed to store mining waste, such as the Quimi and Tundayme dams. The Tundayme dam is projected to reach a height of 320 meters, which would make it the tallest tailings dam in the world.
Currently, the mining project processes approximately 60,000 metric tons of material per day and is in two simultaneous phases: the Mirador deposit has been in active production and extraction since 2019, while Mirador Norte is on hold and awaiting permits for its construction and expansion.
Project Impacts
Although the company presents the Mirador mine as an example of responsible mining, the communities and organizations monitoring the project are warning of a series of environmental and social risks and impacts. One of the main concerns is the safety of the Quimi and Tundayme tailings dams, especially given that the area experiences high levels of rainfall and seismic activity. Recent studies warn that a potential failure of these structures could flood areas with up to 10 meters of tailings. There is no evacuation or response plan in place in the event of a dam failure, which puts the lives of local communities at serious risk.
In addition to the risks associated with the dams, the communities have raised concerns regarding the contamination of the water sources on which they depend for their daily lives and the handling of chemicals used in mineral processing. Among the main risks identified are the potential for acid mine drainage and the use of toxic chemicals—such as sulfuric acid, sodium hydroxide, and cyanide—in flotation and water treatment processes.
The lack of transparency and access to information about the project is also a concern for the affected communities. The company and the Ecuadorian government have provided limited information and have approved expansions in production and dam height without public debate.
About the Affected Communities
Several Shuar communities live along the Quimi River basin and maintain a close relationship with the land and waterways. The rivers are essential to their daily activities, livelihoods, mobility, and cultural practices. Beyond the communities located in the immediate vicinity of the mine, dozens of other settlements downstream could also be affected by the impacts of the mining operation. For these communities, the territory is not merely a physical or economic space, but also a place of memory, identity, and cultural continuity.
Resistance and Organization
In the face of the project’s advance and the lack of public information regarding some of its risks, Shuar communities, civil society organizations, and local authorities have launched various initiatives focused on monitoring, advocacy, and territorial defense. For more than 15 years, indigenous communities, prefectures, and the Ministry of the Environment have conducted independent technical assessments with E-Tech International. These assessments, which concluded that there is a high probability of a tailings dam failure and that such a failure would pose a serious threat to life and watersheds, have been ignored by the project’s promoters.
In recent years, community leaders and partner organizations have organized training sessions, legal actions, and advocacy efforts to demand transparency, access to information, and effective measures for prevention and response to potential emergencies. In 2023, with support from E-Tech, Riada Engineering, and CDES (Center for Economic and Social Rights), Shuar leaders, Decentralized Autonomous Governments (GADs), and civil society held workshops in Limón Indanza and Quito to understand the risks associated with the highly probable failure of the tailings dam and to demand concrete actions. With support from CDES, cases have also been filed with Ecuador’s Constitutional Court to demand the publication of technical studies. Furthermore, E-Tech and CDES are promoting the creation of an emergency response plan in collaboration with the communities, in line with the IRMA standard and the Escazú Agreement (signed by Ecuador). At the same time, efforts are underway to establish a multisectoral commission with national and international participation to audit the mine and define protective measures.
Visions for the Future
The communities are not only denouncing the project’s current impacts but are also proposing concrete measures to protect the territory and ensure the safety of the populations living within its area of influence. Among their main demands are the participatory development of evacuation and emergency response plans, as well as the implementation of early warning systems and permanent community monitoring mechanisms. They also demand that plans for the closure of mining facilities—including tailings dams—be developed with the effective participation of potentially affected communities and include clear measures to prevent long-term risks to people and the environment.
The communities are also demanding full transparency regarding mining operations, including timely public access to technical studies of the dams, monitoring results, operating and closure plans, and any information related to the project’s risks. They further demand opportunities for binding participation in all decisions affecting their territories and ways of life, as well as the creation of an independent audit commission to assess risks and determine measures to protect communities and ecosystems. These demands are grounded in the rights guaranteed by the Escazú Agreement and the Ecuadorian Constitution, which recognize access to information, public participation, and environmental justice.
Water, Agriculture, and Resistance in Las Naves
Project Context
In the subtropical foothills of Bolívar Province, the predominantly agricultural canton of Las Naves has become the site of one of Ecuador’s most advanced industrial mining projects currently under development and, at the same time, one of its most significant socio-environmental conflicts. Curipamba–El Domo is a polymetallic deposit containing copper, gold, zinc, silver, and lead that forms part of the Curipamba project, comprising seven concessions covering approximately 215 km² across the provinces of Bolívar and Los Ríos.
The project is being developed by Curimining S.A., a joint venture in which the Canadian companies Silvercorp Metals and Salazar Resources hold 75% and 25% stakes, respectively. The project documentation includes open-pit and underground resources, as well as a processing plant, a tailings pond, waste storage facilities, roads, and water management infrastructure, all under Ecuador’s medium-scale mining regime. Silvercorp currently estimates a construction cost of approximately USD 284 million, a mine life of 11.5 years, and the start of production in July 2027.
The conflict predates the mine’s construction by many years. Curimining has been operating in the area since 2006, and community resistance became apparent during the initial exploration activities in 2007 and 2008, when dozens of local community members faced criminal charges. The 2008 Constituent Assembly subsequently granted an amnesty that expressly included the events that occurred in Las Naves in the context of the mining conflict. As the project moved forward, new human rights defenders once again faced legal proceedings.
The project has also been integrated into the national policy for promoting mining. In 2019, the Ecuadorian group Nobis, founded by Isabel Noboa, aunt of current President Daniel Noboa, acquired 9.9% of Adventus Mining Corporation, a Canadian company that at the time held a 75% stake in the Curipamba–El Domo project. Years later, during Noboa’s presidency, the project has been promoted at international mining investment forums, including the PDAC in Canada.
Tensions escalated during the controversial 2023 environmental consultation, which took place amid a heavy police and military presence. It was documented that the then-Ministry of Environment, Water, and Ecological Transition (MAATE) excluded ten directly affected communities—including Buenos Aires and Bellavista—despite their dependence on water sources directly linked to the El Domo/Piedra Negra sector. In January 2024, the government granted the environmental license for the project’s mining and processing operations.
The case has also received international attention. In May 2024, experts from the UN Special Procedures warned about the exclusion of potentially affected communities in Las Naves and the lack of comprehensive and impartial information in the mining consultation processes. Subsequently, the UN Human Rights Committee included Curipamba–El Domo among the projects raising concerns about consultation procedures that were insufficiently adequate and participatory for indigenous peoples, while the IACHR documented the exclusion of communities in Las Naves from the environmental consultation and allegations of criminalization of human rights defenders.
Since August 2025, the government of Daniel Noboa has repeatedly placed Las Naves and Echeandía—either directly or as part of Bolívar Province—under states of emergency, maintaining a heavy police and military presence in the area. Human rights organizations and communities have denounced the use of these forces to disperse peaceful protests and resistance camps opposing the mining project. In April 2026, the raids on at least seven homes of people opposed to mining were also documented. The Constitutional Court has declared the application of several of these measures in Las Naves unconstitutional due to a lack of factual justification.
Impacts of the Project
Water lies at the heart of the conflict. El Domo Hill, known locally as Piedra Negra, is located at the headwaters of a dense river network. The Naves Chico and El Silencio streams, among others, flow into the Naves Grande and Zapotal rivers, the Babahoyo sub-basin, and, ultimately, the Guayas basin. Communities in the area depend directly on these sources for human consumption, agriculture, and other productive, cultural, and community uses. This connection extends far beyond Las Naves: the Regional Water Plan for the Guayas River Basin, prepared for the then-National Water Secretariat (SENAGUA), noted that the basin was home to nearly 39% of the national population and encompassed approximately 1.49 million hectares of cultivated land, within a water system that also receives water originating in El Domo/Piedra Negra.
The mine will significantly transform this headwaters area. The environmental documentation describes an open-pit mine covering approximately 53 hectares, along with a tailings pond and water management and diversion structures. According to the Environmental Impact Study, the Naves Chico and El Silencio streams have been diverted and channeled through mining infrastructure; community organizations maintain that these interventions were carried out without the specific authorization required for the diversion of water bodies. The study also addresses the use of toxic substances, including sodium cyanide, and acknowledges potential changes in groundwater levels and flow rates, seepage, mine water discharges, and changes in the quality of surface and groundwater.
A particularly significant contradiction appears in the government’s own records. Technical Report No. MAATE-DZG-URH-ELSR-054-2023, issued on September 28, 2023, by MAATE’s Zone 5 Directorate, confirmed the existence of a water permit for human consumption within the Las Naves concession.
About the Affected Communities
Las Naves is not an unproductive region awaiting economic development. The canton has approximately 7,000 inhabitants, and its economy is strongly tied to family farming. Its farms produce cacao, citrus fruits, coffee, rice, passion fruit, bananas, cassava, pitahaya, papaya, and other crops, in addition to livestock and agroforestry systems. The rural population is predominantly peasant farmers and includes people who self-identify as mestizo, Montubio, Indigenous, and Afro-Ecuadorian.
This economy is of considerable value. An agroeconomic technical report prepared by Agrónomos y Veterinarios Sin Fronteras (AVSF) in 2024 on Las Naves, San Luis de Pambil, and Zapotal estimated the gross value of crop production in the studied area at approximately USD 68 million annually. Although the full report is not publicly available online, OCTE publicly documents AVSF’s research and its findings on family farming, productive diversification, and employment. This figure highlights a central aspect of the conflict: mining does not arrive in an economically barren space, but rather in a territory that already produces food, income, and livelihoods from the land and water.
Community water systems make this relationship particularly evident. Families from various communities have contributed labor through mingas and self-management to build infrastructure that carries water from the higher elevations to homes and farms. In Jerusalén, Buenos Aires, and Bellavista, a state water authorization allows for water abstraction within or adjacent to the El Domo/Piedra Negra area to supply approximately 2,188 people. The system serves both as infrastructure for daily life and as an expression of years of community organization.
This connection helps explain why the definition of who should be considered “affected” is so controversial. The water that originates in El Domo/Piedra Negra does not stop at the boundaries of a concession: it flows through streams and rivers that supply communities and agricultural areas downstream. Communities excluded from the project’s formally defined area of influence may, therefore, depend directly on sources located within the mining area. Las Naves thus raises a broader question: Should affected communities be defined according to a project’s administrative boundaries, or according to the ecological and social relationships through which water flows, livelihoods are sustained, and impacts spread?
Resistance and Organization
In the face of the project’s advance, communities have turned to assemblies, protests, territorial monitoring, community-based water management, legal actions, and national and international advocacy. The Las Naves Cantonal Front for the Defense of Water, Life, and Nature, water boards, and local leaders have sustained this resistance for years.
The dispute is also played out in such concrete spaces as a local road. In La Unión and Voluntad de Dios, families organized when heavy vehicles linked to the project began traveling on a road historically built and maintained through community contributions and mingas, used for local mobility and the transport of agricultural products. Since May 2025, residents have maintained a resistance checkpoint to restrict mining traffic. The police and the armed forces have intervened on several occasions to disperse the protests and allow machinery to pass.
Criminalization has become one of the central features of the conflict. There are 32 people—human rights defenders—who have been criminalized in cases linked to Curipamba–El Domo, 15 of whom have received prison sentences of three or four years. United Nations experts had already warned in 2024 that complaints filed against opponents of mining projects could constitute reprisals and reiterated the responsibilities of companies under the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights.
The communities have also taken the dispute to court. In 2024, residents of Jerusalén, Buenos Aires, and Bellavista challenged the environmental consultation and the license granted to Curipamba–El Domo through a petition for protection, which was denied in both the first and second instances. In August 2025, 490 people from Las Naves, San Luis de Pambil, and Zapotal filed a broader petition for protection alleging violations of their rights and the Rights of Nature of the Piedra Negra ecosystem; the case remained pending in court throughout 2026.
International concern has also grown. In July 2026, UN Special Rapporteurs Gina Romero and Andrea Bolaños Vargas expressed concern over acts of intimidation, surveillance, and harassment against the communities and urged the State to guarantee a safe environment for the defense of human rights. The case will also be presented at a thematic hearing of the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR) on the impacts of Canadian mining in Latin America and the Caribbean in October 2026.
Las Naves has thus ceased to be merely a local dispute over a mine. The case highlights a troubling pattern in mining expansion in Ecuador: communities that challenge projects due to their impacts on water and land face controversial consultation processes, a heavy presence of security forces, and the criminalization of human rights defenders. What happens in Las Naves could influence the conditions under which other communities participate, access justice, and defend their territories against new mining projects.
Visions of the Future
Ultimately, the conflict pits two distinct ways of envisioning development and the future of the territory against one another. Silvercorp presents El Domo as a source of investment, copper and other metal production, and economic benefits, with an estimated useful life of 11.5 years.
The communities resisting the project start from a different premise: their territory already sustains an economy and a way of life. Their vision for the future is based on clean water, diversified family farming, community-based management of natural resources, food sovereignty, and the possibility for future generations to continue living off the land. Forests, agricultural lands, and water systems must endure far beyond the period during which the deposit can be profitably mined.
Las Naves thus gives concrete meaning to the question at the heart of this report: critical minerals—for whom? Copper can be considered critical for global energy, technology, and industrial supply chains. For the communities living downstream from El Domo/Piedra Negra, what is truly critical is the water that reaches their homes, farms, and places of cultural significance; the land that produces their food and sustains their livelihoods; and their right to make decisions about a territory on which present and future generations depend.
Haiti and the Dominican Republic: Different Geographies of Extractivism
Haiti: A New Mining Map for a Historically Plundered Territory
In the shade of the giant Mapou tree, the Haitian people have withstood centuries of colonial violence and foreign intervention. From the rebellions against slavery imposed by the French colonizers—which culminated in the revolution for independence—to the resistance against the multiple U.S. occupations throughout the 20th century, Haiti stands as a global symbol of the anticolonial and antiracist struggle. In retaliation for the revolution led by enslaved people, the colonial powers imposed severe economic isolation, and France demanded reparations amounting to billions, which Haiti was forced to pay for over a century. This greatly limited the country’s ability to invest in economic and social policies.
After a long history of exploitation and plunder, Haiti faces new pressure on its natural resources. Mining industry reports estimated around 2014 that the country held $20 billion worth of gold, copper, and marble, sparking international interest. Between 1957 and 1982, the U.S.-based Reynolds Mining Corporation mined bauxite in Miragoâne, exporting 13.3 million metric tons without generating any benefits for local communities. Furthermore, between 2006 and 2013, more than 50 exploration permits were granted without adequate environmental assessments, leading to land disputes.
On March 30, 2026, the government published a new decree reorganizing prospecting, exploration, and mining operations. Article 7 establishes a mining cadastre administered by the Bureau des Mines et de l’Énergie (BME), within the framework of the functions assigned to the Autorité Minière Nationale (AMN). This system registers and delimits mining titles, permits, and areas through territorial units known as “carrés” and “périmètres.” In practice, it allows for the organization and allocation of spaces for mining activity in a country where the delimited lands are also inhabited, used for agriculture, and essential for access to water.
The decree was adopted while the Haitian Parliament is not in session, without any national parliamentary debate. Although it provides for environmental and social impact assessments and rehabilitation measures, civil society organizations and communities are demanding information on community participation, the protection of water sources, and the institutional capacity to oversee companies. These concerns are even more pressing given the interest in gold, copper, and potential rare earth minerals, whose presence and scale on Haitian territory have yet to be confirmed.
Mining expansion is part of a history of colonialism, foreign intervention, and stolen wealth. Presenting resource exploitation as a solution to the Haitian crisis can obscure the power imbalances between companies, institutions, and communities. The new decree does not guarantee that projects will move forward nor does it determine who will receive their benefits, but it establishes a framework whose implementation will be crucial to monitor. In a country marked by centuries of extraction and dispossession, who decides what happens to Haitian territory, and who benefits from its wealth?
Dominican Republic: Growing Impacts
Project Context
In the province of Dajabón, on the border between the Dominican Republic and Haiti, the Candelones Project—a mining initiative led by the Canadian company Unigold Inc.—is moving forward. The project is located in the municipality of Restauración and involves the extraction of gold, along with other minerals such as silver, copper, zinc, and lead. It is an open-pit mine, a method that involves the massive removal of soil and vegetation using heavy machinery and that significantly transforms the landscape and ecosystems where it is located.
The project’s location in a border area rich in natural resources has raised concerns among local communities, particularly regarding the potential effects that mining activity could have on the natural resources on which the region’s populations depend.
Project Impacts
According to analyses conducted by the Fundación Étnica Integral (FEI), there are a number of high- and very-high-risk impacts. As an open-pit mine, the project could lead to the removal of forest cover, the loss of habitats for local wildlife, and the fragmentation of ecosystems in a mountainous region characterized by its ecological fragility.
Communities are also warning of the risks of contamination of surface and groundwater sources. Gold mining typically requires the use of chemicals such as cyanide, while the exposure of certain rocks to air and water can generate acid mine drainage, releasing toxic metals and affecting rivers and streams over long periods of time. These impacts could have direct consequences for human consumption, agriculture, and livestock farming—activities that are fundamental to the local economy. There is also concern about permanent landscape alteration, accelerated soil erosion, potential landslides, and risks associated with the management of tailings and mining waste.
About the Affected Communities
The communities affected by the Candelones Project are primarily rural and farming communities with a strong connection to water and natural resources for their subsistence. Their livelihoods are closely tied to agriculture and livestock farming, so any impact on local ecosystems can directly affect their economic and social well-being. The project’s location on the border adds a particular dimension to these concerns, as environmental impacts could extend beyond Dominican territory and affect areas and populations in Haiti.
Resilience and Organization
Through the work of the Fundación Étnica Integral (FEI), the communities of Dajabón and Elías Piña have strengthened their capacity to understand the risks associated with mining and to participate more actively in debates about the future of their territories. Awareness-raising and training initiatives have enabled more people to access information about how mining operates and its potential environmental and social impacts.
As part of this process, community groups and monitoring brigades have been formed to oversee the condition of water sources and other natural resources. Forums for dialogue, meetings, and training activities have also been promoted, helping to strengthen local leadership and community organization in the face of the challenges posed by the expansion of mining in the region.
Visions for the Future
Communities express a desire to build a future in which water sources, ecosystems, and the ways of life that sustain the local population are protected. There is particular concern about ensuring that any economic activity carried out in the area does not compromise people’s health or the integrity of natural resources.
Many people have also expressed interest in strengthening economic alternatives linked to agriculture, small businesses, and other sustainable initiatives that can improve living conditions without relying on mining. They also emphasize the importance of continuing to strengthen education, access to information, and community participation in decisions that affect their territories.
Brazil: Environmental Racism
Project Context
In the Jequitinhonha Valley, a region in the northeast of the state of Minas Gerais marked by centuries of natural resource exploitation, quilombola communities (communities of African descent in Brazil officially recognized by the constitution, which have a strong cultural identity and a collective relationship with their territory) face the simultaneous expansion of lithium mining and eucalyptus monocultures. For many communities, the current boom in so-called “green lithium” does not represent a break with the past, but rather the continuation of a long history of land expropriation that began with colonization, colonial mining, and slavery, and has continued through successive cycles of resource extraction.
The Jequitinhonha Valley has become a strategic area for the extraction of minerals considered critical to the global energy transition. Among the major projects is the country’s largest known lithium deposit: Grota do Cirilo. Operated by the Canadian company Sigma Lithium, Grota do Cirilo has been in production since 2023. In April 2026, they announced US$100 million to expand the project, with financial support from Brazil’s development bank, BNDES, and the Minas Gerais Development Bank (BDMG). Other companies involved in lithium exploration and extraction in the region include Companhia Brasileira de Lítio, Atlas Lithium, Lithium Ionic, Pilbara Minerals, and BYD. At the same time, international financial institutions such as the Inter-American Development Bank are promoting new geological mapping initiatives to identify deposits of lithium and other strategic minerals in the region.
Impacts of the Project
Communities identify water as the core of the conflict. According to testimonies shared during the regional meeting of Quilombola communities held in April 2026, numerous springs have disappeared in recent decades, and rivers show increasing signs of pollution. The communities attribute this situation both to the spread of eucalyptus monocultures and to the expansion of mining activity, which increases pressure on already scarce water resources.
In addition to environmental impacts, the communities report social and economic consequences that directly affect their ways of life. Among the concerns raised are an increase in respiratory and kidney diseases, food insecurity, the migration of young people, the rising cost of living, and growing dependence on welfare programs or one-time benefits offered by companies. They also warn of processes of social fragmentation promoted by the companies, which negotiate individually with community members and create internal divisions that weaken collective organization.
The Affected Communities
The affected communities are primarily Quilombola communities—descendants of Afro-Brazilian populations who resisted slavery and developed their own forms of organization and relationship with the land. For them, the land is not merely a productive space but also a place of memory, ancestry, and cultural continuity.
Community life is closely linked to access to water, food production, the exchange of native seeds, traditional knowledge, and various cultural practices passed down through generations. In contrast to the external narrative that often portrays the Jequitinhonha Valley as a poor region, the communities assert the richness of their territories, their food systems, and their ancestral knowledge.
Quilombola women play a central role in these processes. Community leaders, seed guardians, midwives, and defenders of the territory have taken on an increasingly prominent role in collective organization and in denouncing the impacts associated with the expansion of mining and monoculture farming.
Resistance and Organization
From April 22 to 24, 2026, nearly fifty Quilombola leaders participated in a regional meeting organized by the Coordination of Quilombola Communities of the Jequitinhonha Valley (COQUIVALE) and the Maíra Institute. More than just a forum for voicing grievances, the meeting sought to strengthen political coordination among communities facing similar problems in different parts of the valley.
During the event, participants shared experiences regarding the impacts of eucalyptus plantations and lithium mining, discussed legal and organizational strategies, and strengthened ties among communities that have historically resisted various processes of land expropriation. One of the main outcomes of the gathering was the recognition that the conflicts they face are not isolated cases, but rather manifestations of the same extractive model that is replicated across different territories.
The communities have also reinforced their defense of the right to free, prior, and informed consent, insisting that decisions regarding research, exploration, or extractive projects must be made collectively and not through individual negotiations promoted by companies.
Visions for the Future
For the Quilombola communities of the Jequitinhonha Valley, the defense of their territory is inseparable from the defense of their memory, culture, and the possibility of continuing to exist as a people. Their demands are not limited to mitigating environmental impacts but aim to guarantee community control over their territories and respect for their ways of life.
The communities express the need to protect water sources, strengthen local food production, preserve ancestral knowledge, and ensure that future generations can remain in their territories. Far from accepting the idea that mining is the only path to development, the communities advocate for models based on caring for the land, food sovereignty, community organization, and the celebration of their cultures. For them, resisting the spread of eucalyptus plantations and lithium mining means defending water, their ancestors, and the continuity of life in the Jequitinhonha Valley.
Quilombola Gathering organized by COQUIVALE and the Maíra Institute (April 2026)
Chile: The mining industry’s long-standing debt
Arica and Lauca National Park, toxic tailings and mining in protected areas
Project Context
In the Arica and Parinacota region, in the far north of Chile, various mining projects have had a profound impact on ecosystems of high environmental value and on the health of local communities. In Lauca National Park, the company Quiborax continues to extract borax from the Salar de Surire, a site designated with multiple environmental protection statuses, including National Park, Natural Monument, and Ramsar site. At the same time, legacy mining issues, such as the abandoned tailings from the Choquelimpie gold and silver mine, continue to contaminate the area decades after operations ceased.
Added to this history is one of the country’s most serious cases of pollution: the importation of nearly 20,000 metric tons of toxic tailings from Sweden by the company Promel, which belongs to the same economic group as Quiborax. The waste was dumped at Cerro Chuño, within the city of Arica, where the government later built public housing.
Project Impacts
Communities report that mining activity has affected both high-Andean ecosystems and the health of the population. In the Salar de Surire, borax mining reduces water availability, disrupts wetland ecosystems, and affects habitats critical to iconic species such as Andean flamingos. Constant truck traffic and the use of water to control dust further exacerbate the pressure on a highly fragile ecosystem.
Furthermore, the abandoned tailings from Choquelimpie continue to contaminate the water and soil of Lauca National Park and Las Vicuñas National Reserve. In the city of Arica, toxic waste dumped on Cerro Chuño caused serious health problems among those who were resettled on this land, resulting in one of the largest cases of heavy metal contamination ever recorded in Chile.
About the Affected Communities
The affected communities include both urban residents of Arica and indigenous communities of the Altiplano who depend on high-Andean ecosystems for their daily lives. Water availability, the conservation of the bofedales, and the protection of biodiversity are fundamental to their ways of life and to the continuity of their productive and cultural activities.
Indigenous leaders have also denounced the lack of adequate consultation processes regarding new mining exploration projects, despite the fact that Chile is a party to ILO Convention No. 169 on the rights of indigenous peoples.
Resistance and Organization
For years, various social and environmental organizations, as well as indigenous communities, have denounced the pollution caused by abandoned tailings and the impacts of mining on protected areas. Fundación Relaves has documented these conflicts alongside local organizations through research and the documentary Lawqa: Let the Park Be a Park Again, which highlights the pollution in the Lauca World Biosphere Reserve and the risks associated with the expansion of mining in the area. Communities also continue to warn about the possible reactivation of the Choquelimpie mine and the use of legal loopholes that facilitate mining operations within environmentally protected territories.
Visions for the Future
The communities emphasize the need to restore affected ecosystems, remediate abandoned environmental liabilities, and ensure that protected areas effectively fulfill their conservation role. They also demand respect for the right of indigenous peoples to free, prior, and informed consultation and challenge a development model that continues to prioritize the extraction of strategic minerals even in territories of high ecological and cultural value.
En este viaje, Gabo Benoit, junto a Fundación Relaves y activistas locales, reconstruyen y revelan la historia de cómo se llegó a esta situación, invitándonos a ser parte del mágico altiplano y de esta Reserva Mundial de la Biosfera.
Quintero-Puchuncaví, a sacrifice zone in the service of mining
Project Context
Quintero-Puchuncaví Bay, in central Chile, is one of the country’s most emblematic cases of industrial pollution. For more than fifty years, the area has been home to coal-fired power plants, copper smelters, oil and gas terminals, ports, and industrial infrastructure linked to the production and export of minerals. The Port of Ventanas, for example, has been a key hub for the export of copper mined by CODELCO from its Andina and El Teniente divisions, while the thermal power plants in the area supply energy to the electrical grid that supports much of the nation’s mining activity.
Despite decades of accumulated pollution, industrial pressure continues to grow. Currently, new megaprojects have been approved in the region, including a green hydrogen plant and a desalination plant, further entrenching a development model that communities describe as an “unjust transition.”
Project Impacts
Industrial pollution has had profound consequences on the health of the population and local ecosystems. Communities report respiratory, cardiovascular, and skin diseases, as well as the presence of heavy metals in the population, which are associated with various long-term health problems.
One of the most visible incidents has been the recurring “toxic clouds,” which have caused mass poisonings, particularly affecting children and the elderly. Despite numerous investigations and complaints, the communities maintain that there is still no comprehensive assessment of which substances continue to pollute the air they breathe every day.
About the Affected Communities
The towns of Quintero and Puchuncaví have lived for decades alongside an industrial complex that has a profound impact on their quality of life. Their residents claim that the country’s economic development has come at the expense of their health and the ongoing degradation of the land. For many families, living in this area means dealing daily with foul odors, episodes of air pollution, and uncertainty about the effects that prolonged exposure to toxic substances may have on their health and that of future generations.
Resistance and Organization
Communities have been organizing for years to denounce pollution and demand redress. Among the most active organizations is Mujeres de Zona de Sacrificio en Resistencia (MUZOSARES), made up of women who have played a central role in raising national and international awareness of the socio-environmental crisis facing the region.
Local organizations have filed lawsuits against the government and the companies responsible for the pollution. In 2019, they secured a landmark ruling from the Supreme Court ordering the identification of air pollutants and the adoption of measures to protect public health. However, the communities report that implementation remains insufficient. They also demand the full implementation of the Escazú Agreement, given the threats and intimidation that defenders of the territory continue to face.
Visions for the Future
The communities demand the right to live in a healthy environment and to put an end to the “sacrifice zones” model that has shaped the history of Quintero-Puchuncaví. Their demand is not limited to reducing pollution but includes comprehensive reparations for environmental and health damages, access to transparent information about the pollutants present in the territory, and an energy transition that does not reproduce new forms of environmental injustice.
Argentina: Between the Memory of Water and Anarcho-Capitalism at the Foot of the Central Andes
Contexto general
Argentina vuelve a ser presentada como una promesa minera. No porque la minería sea nueva en el país ni porque se hayan producido, de golpe, grandes hallazgos. Lo nuevo es la velocidad política con la que esos territorios están siendo reordenados para responder a una demanda global que se nombra como transición energética, seguridad de abastecimiento y, hacia adentro, como estabilidad macroeconómica o modernización productiva.
Desde la llegada de Javier Milei al gobierno nacional, la minería quedó ubicada en el centro de una estrategia de apertura económica, ingreso de divisas y atracción de grandes inversiones. El Régimen de Incentivo para Grandes Inversiones (RIGI), creado por la Ley 27.742, ofrece beneficios fiscales, aduaneros y cambiarios, estabilidad normativa por treinta años y condiciones especiales para sectores considerados estratégicos, entre ellos la minería. A esto se suman la actualización y simplificación del Régimen de Inversiones Mineras, anunciada en junio de 2026, y la reforma de la Ley de Glaciares aprobada por el Congreso en abril de 2026. La orientación general es clara: menos fricción regulatoria para el capital y más presión sobre territorios históricamente defendidos por comunidades, organizaciones y saberes articulados desde una larga trayectoria de luchas socioambientales.
Hasta la fecha, el RIGI ha aprobado diez proyectos mineros importantes relacionados con el litio, el oro y el cobre, y hay muchos más en proceso de revisión. El Grupo del Banco Mundial (GBM) apoya la iniciativa RIGI de Argentina, habiendo comprometido casi 2 mil millones de dólares en préstamos y 1.9 mil millones de dólares adicionales en garantías para reformas, infraestructura e inversiones que promuevan los sectores minero y energético.
Mendoza ocupa un lugar particular dentro de este giro. Durante casi dos décadas, la provincia fue leída como una anomalía dentro del mapa minero argentino: un territorio rico en yacimientos metalíferos y no metalíferos, pero con una fuerte resistencia social al desarrollo de proyectos megamineros en un contexto de escasez y crisis hídrica. La defensa del agua y la resistencia al modelo de megaminería se tradujeron en la Ley Provincial N.º 7722, sancionada en 2007, que prohibió el uso de sustancias como cianuro, mercurio, ácido sulfúrico y otras sustancias tóxicas similares en la minería metalífera y exigió ratificación legislativa de las Declaraciones de Impacto Ambiental. La ley fue el resultado de una acumulación social, técnica, campesina, urbana y territorial que permitió el “Mendozazo” del agua en el 2019. Por eso, cuando se intenta reducir la resistencia mendocina a un reflejo conservador o a falta de información, se borra deliberadamente una historia de organización popular y conocimiento situado.
El gobierno de la provincia de Mendoza, liderado por Alfredo Cornejo, de la Unión Cívica Radical y aliado estratégico del proyecto político nacional de La Libertad Avanza, busca reabrir esa historia desde otro lugar. Ya no intenta, al menos de manera frontal, derogar la 7722 como ocurrió durante el conflicto de 2019. La estrategia actual consiste en convertir la ley en una puerta de entrada: usar sus procedimientos como certificado de legitimidad y presentar la minería como el nuevo motor del progreso provincial.
En ese marco se inscriben dos frentes centrales: PSJ Cobre Mendocino, heredero del histórico proyecto San Jorge en Uspallata, y Malargüe Distrito Minero Occidental, un dispositivo territorial de exploración que busca ordenar, acelerar y empaquetar decenas de proyectos en el sur provincial.
What projects are having an impact on the region, and what stage are they in?
The first key project is PSJ Cobre Mendocino, formerly known as the San Jorge Project. It is located in the Uspallata district, Las Heras department, about 37 kilometers from the town of Uspallata and 97 kilometers from the city of Mendoza. The project is being developed by Minera San Jorge S.A., a subsidiary of Zonda Metals GmbH of Switzerland and the Alberdi Group of Argentina. According to the executive summary of the Environmental Impact Report, the project involves open-pit mining to extract copper and gold ores and process them through crushing, grinding, flotation, filtration, and drying. The concession area covers approximately 9,987 hectares and is situated at an elevation of approximately 2,400 to 2,900 meters above sea level.
San Jorge had already been rejected by the legislature in 2011 under Law 7722, but it returned in a revised form under a new name, a new political climate, and a renewed narrative: copper for the transition, local jobs, international standards, state oversight, and a historic opportunity. In December 2025, the Mendoza Legislature approved the Environmental Impact Statement (EIS) for PSJ Cobre Mendocino, making it the first large-scale metal mining project authorized under Law 7722. However, there is talk of an EIS that is conditional due to the absence of many preliminary studies that would provide information on potential environmental damage, thereby violating the precautionary principle of National Law No. 25,675. It is not yet operational: following legislative approval, it must proceed through stages of feasibility studies, civil engineering, construction, and eventual mining operations. But politically, it has already opened a door that Mendoza had kept closed for years.
It is worth noting that this scenario unfolds against a backdrop in which a segment of the population of Uspallata has advocated, as an alternative, for the creation of the Uspallata-Polvaredas Protected Natural Area (ANPUP). This highlights the coexistence of diverse—and even conflicting—ways of understanding, inhabiting, and envisioning the territory, as well as the expectations that different stakeholders place on it.
The second front is Malargüe Western Mining District (MDMO). Here, the political strategy is different. We are not dealing with an isolated mine, but rather with a way of territorializing mining exploration as a whole. The provincial government presents it as a planning district, with integrated environmental studies, management plans, and controls. The first phase began with 34 exploration projects approved by law and others previously ratified; a second phase incorporated 27 new projects; and a third phase initiated the evaluation process for 71 additional projects. The crux of the matter is not merely how many projects there are, but the way in which a new scale is being established and dozens of projects are being approved collectively without individualized technical analysis: the mountain range and the south-central region of Malargüe cease to be seen as territories with histories, watersheds, fertile plains, livestock routes, memories, and vulnerabilities, and are instead reorganized as a zone of mining opportunity.
Malargüe is, moreover, a territory where the discourse of development finds fertile ground because it coexists with real problems: territorial inequality, dependence on public sector jobs, unfulfilled promises of economic diversification, distance from major industrial areas, and foreign ownership of land. Precisely for this reason, the debate cannot be reduced to an abstract opposition between mining and poverty: when an impoverished territory is asked to choose between abandonment and extractivism, we are not dealing with freedom of choice but rather with a form of structural blackmail.
Affected communities and territories
The affected communities are not just those living next to a drilling rig, an access road, or a mining camp. In Mendoza, discussing the impact requires thinking in terms of watersheds. Uspallata is part of a hydro-social system that connects the high mountains with the Mendoza River, irrigated oases, agricultural production, urban life, and the political memory of water. The same is true in Malargüe, where projects are located in high-mountain territories, fertile plains, waterways, livestock grazing areas, indigenous territories, conservation areas, and unique transitional landscapes between Patagonia and Cuyo.
In Uspallata, self-organized residents, organizations, water assemblies, and inhabitants from various departments have argued that the impact is not limited to the water consumption declared by the company—a figure that has been called into question due to the outdated data they have used. What is at stake is the integrity of a mountainous region that combines tourism, agriculture, rural activities, local identity, Andean biodiversity, a strategic position within the provincial water system, and a concrete effort to preserve the territory as a Protected Natural Area. This debate is taking place in a province already plagued by conflicts over the distribution of surface water for agricultural irrigation, well drilling, wastewater reuse, and, furthermore, by the long-standing conflict with La Pampa over the Atuel River, where Mendoza continues to fail to comply with rulings by the National Supreme Court regarding the minimum flow that must reach western La Pampa.
In Malargüe, the debate involves urban and rural communities, producers, workers, young people seeking alternative employment, residents of mountainous areas—the “puesteros”—and sectors that view mining as an opportunity for investment and development in the southern part of the province. A responsible public policy, however, should not use economic insecurity as an argument for introducing high-risk activities with promises of quick gains. The difficult question is not whether Malargüe needs jobs: it does. The question is who defines those jobs, based on what information, under what conditions, with what safeguards, and at the expense of which territories.
There is also a broader affected community: the people of Mendoza who defended Law 7722, who marched in 2019 when attempts were made to weaken it, who upheld the slogan that “water is not negotiable,” and who understand that the provincial economy depends on the water from rivers flowing down from the mountains. That community is extremely diverse: it includes farmers, ranchers, students, teachers, scientists, environmental organizations, oasis towns, urban areas, and small and large agro-industrial projects.
Impactos y riesgos
The main impacts revolve around water, but they are not limited to it. In the case of PSJ Cobre Mendocino, the company maintains that the project will comply with Law 7722, use flotation processes, and recirculate water. However, technical and social concerns point to information gaps, regulatory noncompliance, hydrological uncertainties, potential impacts on aquifers, underestimation of floodplains and wetlands, and the need to expand baseline studies.
The Environment and Natural Resources Foundation (FARN), together with local organizations, filed a petition for injunctive relief, noting that reports from CONICET’s Argentine Institute for Research on Arid Zones, the General Department of Irrigation, and the National University of Cuyo had pointed out omissions, methodological problems, and the need for more information prior to the issuance of the Environmental Impact Statement (EIS). The technical report from the National University of Cuyo further concluded that the submitted report only partially complied with the requirements of applicable regulations.
State violence and censorship are emerging as a political tool aimed at making possible what the community has been rejecting for more than fifteen years. The San Jorge Project / PSJ Cobre Mendocino is moving forward, on the one hand, through technical reports, corporate lobbying, and legislative votes; on the other, through police, legal proceedings, arrests, fencing, fear, and the persecution of those who defend the water. The criminalization of residents and environmental leaders—even under disproportionate charges such as “eco-terrorism”—shows the extent to which the conflict has ceased to be presented as a democratic discussion about the future of the territory and is now being treated as a public order issue. In a province where water shapes daily life, agricultural production, the memory of social struggles, and the very possibility of an oasis, persecuting those who defend it implies something more serious than merely suppressing a protest: it implies an attempt to dismantle a political culture built around the care of water. Thus, Uspallata becomes a test case for Argentina’s new extractive cycle: a mining industry that claims to be modern, green, and necessary, but which must discipline bodies, silence assemblies, and frame territorial defense as a threat in order to establish itself.
In the Western Malargüe Mining District, the impacts are still limited to the exploratory stages, but that does not make them irrelevant. Exploration clears paths, sets up camps, mobilizes machinery, conducts drilling, alters landscapes, generates economic expectations, and prepares the infrastructure and logistics for later stages. Furthermore, when dozens of projects are evaluated under the same district-wide framework, the issue shifts from individual drilling operations to the cumulative effect on an entire territory. The question is not merely whether a specific project can manage its impacts, but whether the southern part of the province can absorb the gradual transformation of a vast mountainous region into a mining frontier.
There are also less visible but equally profound social impacts. Mining enters these territories with promises of jobs, scholarships, training, local suppliers, and corporate social responsibility. This can divide communities, turn legitimate needs into forced allegiances, and shift the fundamental debate: not every job is development, not every investment is sovereignty, and not every compensation makes up for irreversible damage. In Uspallata, the reactivation of the San Jorge mine has reignited conflicts that had never truly gone away. In Malargüe, the promise of mining may exploit a real territorial wound: the region’s history of being historically neglected by the central government in the northern part of the province.
The national context exacerbates these risks. The 2026 reform of the Glacier Law alters the framework for protecting glaciers and the periglacial environment amid a context of defunding and attacks on public universities, scientific institutions, and their communities. In an arid province, with a recurring water crisis and structural dependence on snow and meltwater, weakening the precautionary principle in high-mountain areas jeopardizes water and food security in the medium and long term. This is not an abstraction: IANIGLA has maintained that, in dry years or years with low snowfall, glaciers and other cryoforms contribute significant volumes of meltwater to Andean rivers and help mitigate the impacts of droughts on irrigated oases.
Resistance, Organization, and Territorial Defense
The historical resistance to mega-mining in Mendoza has learned to organize around a political intuition: without water, Mendoza cannot exist. Law 7722 was enacted in 2007 after years of social mobilization. In 2011, the Legislature rejected the San Jorge project. In 2015, the Mendoza Supreme Court upheld the law’s constitutionality. In 2019, when the provincial government attempted to weaken the law, a massive mobilization forced it to back down. This timeline shows that the defense of water is not an emotional reaction to new developments, but rather an accumulation of democratic memory.
Water assemblies, environmental organizations, academic circles, self-organized residents, community journalists, and human rights networks have developed a broad repertoire of actions: marches, roadblocks, public hearings, requests for public information, legal actions, report-writing, community monitoring, communication campaigns, and interprovincial coordination. In recent years, this resistance has also faced repression, arrests, prosecution, and campaigns to delegitimize it. As is the case in many socio-environmental conflicts in Latin America, those who defend water are portrayed as obstacles to progress—precisely when they are defending the material conditions necessary for any possible future.
The Uspallata case epitomizes this tension. The local defense isn’t content with simply saying no. What it demands is something far more rigorous: that decisions regarding the high mountains not be made from an office; that projects not be approved based on incomplete information; that critical reports not be treated as administrative nuisances; that public hearings not serve merely as a formality after a decision has already been made; and that social consent not be replaced by corporate communication campaigns.
In Malargüe, there are sectors that support mining because of the prospect of jobs and weariness with constant delays. But it would be a serious mistake to accept that the only way forward for the southern part of the province is to become an extractive district. A serious defense of the territory must explore real alternatives: public investment, science, nature-based tourism, adapted livestock farming, energy, technical education, environmental monitoring, and local production chains that do not rely on surrendering the subsoil and water as collateral.
A child reflected in the fountain at Plaza Independencia in Mendoza during the marches against mega-mining projects and in defense of water. The child is holding a sign shaped like a drop of water bearing the number of Provincial Law 7722, which prohibits the use of toxic chemicals in metal mining. Credit: Martín Fedrico Ortiz (2025)
Vision for the Future
The vision for the future held by the communities and organizations defending water is not a static postcard of the mountains. It is not about freezing Mendoza in time or denying economic crises. It is about refusing to accept that the only available vision is one of accelerated extractivism. The province needs to discuss jobs, community roots, infrastructure, and economic diversification—but not under the threat that, if it does not accept mega-mining, it will be left behind by the rest of the world. That false dilemma is a political trap.
A just future for Mendoza should be based on certain non-negotiable minimums. First, uphold and strengthen Law 7722 as a social and environmental floor, not as a procedural formality subject to circumstantial legislative majorities. Second, evaluate projects by watershed and by cumulative impacts, especially in high mountains, floodplains, wetlands, glaciers, and periglacial environments. Third, guarantee binding public participation, real access to information, and compliance with the Escazú Agreement. Fourth, create independent and community-based monitoring systems with open data—not just government controls announced at press conferences. Fifth, recognize that there can be no just energy transition if the territories of the Global South once again become “sacrificial zones” to sustain the consumption, industries, and wars of others.
The question of critical minerals, then, must return to its most uncomfortable formulation: critical—for whom? For the Global North’s global supply chains of batteries, electric cars, weapons, digital infrastructure, and energy security, copper from Mendoza may indeed be strategic.
For communities that depend on rivers, mountains, oases, tourism, agriculture, and a political legacy built on the defense of water, the critical issue is something else: ensuring that the system that makes life possible is not disrupted.
Mendoza is not merely debating a single mine in Uspallata or a series of exploration projects in Malargüe. It is debating whether its history of defending water will be treated as a backwardness to be overcome or as a form of territorial wisdom that still has much to teach. In these times of “anarcho-capitalism” under President Milei and his allies—when “progress” once again speaks with a mouth full of dollars and a hand resting on the mountain range—the resistance in Mendoza and the assemblies throughout our country and region remind us of something simple, ancient, and profoundly relevant today: no mineral can be worth more than the water that sustains an entire people. Nothing is worth more than water.
The Argentine case shows that the new race for minerals is not taking place on empty lands, but in places with a history, laws, scientific and technical research, assemblies, and ways of life that have already made it clear time and again that water is not up for negotiation. In Mendoza, the dispute over minerals raises a question that cuts across all of Latin America: if the energy transition requires sacrificing watersheds, silencing communities, discrediting scientists and universities, and weakening environmental protections, then we are not facing a just transition, but rather a new iteration of the old colonial extractivism that, under the guise of development, fractures societies and dispossesses territories.
Projects are multiplying, and so is resistance
In all the cases presented—from the Antilles to the Andes—communities are demanding the right to decide what happens to their territories. The expansion of mining megaprojects not only conflicts with the material needs of these communities but also with their understanding of the land: as a space for life, memory, identity, and self-determination, rather than as a commodity at the service of global markets.
Thus, the question that gives this collaborative report its title once again takes center stage in the debate: critical minerals—for whom? Certainly not for those who live in the territories where they are mined. Although governments, corporations, and financial institutions promise that the benefits of development will eventually “trickle down” to communities, what actually ends up spilling onto them is pollution of the air, water, and their territories.
No matter how much the narrative of development, progress, and job creation is backed by governments, corporations, and financial institutions, that narrative loses its power where organized communities reveal what is really happening on the ground. It is these communities—often putting their safety and their very lives at risk—who document the impacts, defend their rights, and challenge the notion that extractivism is the only possible path.
From the Dominican Republic to Brazil, from Haiti to Chile, from Ecuador to Argentina, the same message of self-determination resonates. In Mexico, the peoples of Puebla, Veracruz, and Oaxaca are promoting declarations of territories free of toxins and heavy metals, while in some regions of Peru, they are demanding that the government recognize communal structures as legitimate actors in governance regarding mining issues.
But these resistance movements seek not only to halt mining projects; they are also forging their own paths and developing small-scale initiatives. They do so by strengthening community organization, defending water and the commons, promoting food sovereignty, preserving ancestral knowledge and rituals, and keeping alive ways of relating to the land that place life at the center.
At a time when territories are viewed as mineral reserves to supply global markets, it is precisely these peoples and communities who, day by day, uphold the defense of Mother Earth and remind us that another way of inhabiting and caring for the land remains possible.
These communities in resistance are also coming together, recognizing one another, and beginning to forge bonds with one another. By sharing experiences, exchanging information, and supporting one another, they strengthen a network that transcends territorial boundaries and multiplies their capacity for defense. This initiative is a testament to that. Together with Plan Colibrí, Center for Economic and Social Rights–CDES, Maíra Institute, the Itinerant University of Resistance in Haiti, Relaves Foundation, Fundación Étnica Integral (FEI), and Find an Independent Mining Expert (FAIME), we continue to forge alliances that cross borders and even oceans to promote a model based on human rights, respect for life, and care for the territories we inhabit.