Indigenous communities hold a valuable reserve of lithium. However, mining activities pose a threat to their water, heritage, and economic prosperity.

Indigenous communities hold a valuable reserve of lithium. However, mining activities pose a threat to their water, heritage, and economic prosperity.

Irene Leonor Flores de Callata, aged 68, leads a herd of llamas and sheep through a parched riverbed in the desolate desert landscape of Tusaquillas, Argentina.

The Kolla tribe of Flores de Callata has spent ages navigating the high peaks of northern Argentina in pursuit of one basic resource: Clean water to drink.

In this exceedingly dry environment, life is sustained by a vital force.

During the rainy season, the hallowed grounds near their modest Tusaquillas community become filled with water. However, during the dry months, families must trek for miles in the scorching heat, in the hopes that their animals can drink from a plastic container connected to a hose that stretches to the faraway mountains.

Today is a fortunate day. The blue container is filled with clean water.

But communities like hers increasingly worry that their luck may run out. That’s because the parched waterways surrounding their town are intrinsically connected with spanning white salt flats below, subterranean lagoons with waters jam-packed with a material that’s come to be known as “white gold” — lithium.

Native communities in the “lithium triangle” encompassing Argentina, Chile, and Bolivia occupy a valuable deposit of this resource, with an estimated worth of one trillion dollars.

The metal is key in the global fight against climate change, used in electric car batteries, crucial to solar and wind energy and more. But to extract it, mines suck water out of the flats, tethered to the lives of thousands of communities like Flores de Callata’s.

As more and more influential figures turn their attention to the Triangle, which holds the largest deposit of lithium on the planet, in hopes of finding a solution to protect the environment, some are concerned that the pursuit of this mineral will come at the cost of the life force that has sustained the indigenous communities in the region for centuries.

Flores de Callata expressed concern over the possibility of losing everything. The lack of access to clean water and the potential arrival of mining companies pose a threat to their culture and way of life. It is a dire situation where they could be left with nothing.

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Last year, the value of lithium drastically increased while towns like Flores de Callata, located in the “lithium triangle,” and many others have relied on meager resources like food and water.

From 2021 to 2023, the cost of a metric ton of lithium in American markets rose significantly, nearly tripling and peaking at $46,000 in 2020 according to the United States Geological Survey. In China, the primary purchaser of the area’s lithium, the price of one ton of the metal reached an astonishing $76,000 at its highest point last year.

Leaders, executives, and corporations from various countries have taken interest in the region’s desolate deserts, seeing them as both a potential source of riches and a means to facilitate the shift towards sustainable energy.

The President of the United States, Joe Biden, has advocated for a transition towards renewable energy options such as wind and solar. He has also set a goal of having 50% of new vehicle sales in the country, which amounts to about 8 million cars annually, to be electric by 2030. This will necessitate the use of lithium.

In February, Antony Blinken, the top diplomat for Biden, emphasized the significance of Argentina’s lithium during his trip to the South American nation.

According to Blinken, clean energy is crucial for our collective future, and Argentina has the potential to be a key player in developing supply chains for essential minerals like lithium, which will drive the economy of the 21st century.

The increased need for lithium worldwide resulted in a rise in production, but prices have recently declined due to a temporary excess supply and overestimations in electric vehicle sales. However, the global demand for lithium continues to grow.

The precious “white gold” is found in the numerous salt flats, also known as salares, scattered across the area.

From afar, they look like fields of Arctic snow, but below are deep wells of salted groundwater packed with minerals. Unlike other forms of mining, lithium here is extracted not from rock, but rather from the brine water pumped from the salt flats.

According to hydrologist Ingrid Garcés from the University of Antofagasta in Chile, the issue is that the salt flats contribute significantly to a diverse ecosystem.

Although the water in the lagoons is not suitable for drinking, they are connected to nearby sources of fresh water such as sporadic rain and streams from nearby mountains. These sources of water are crucial for the survival of numerous indigenous communities.

Scientists interviewed by the AP are worried that large-scale water pumping is causing contamination of fresh water with brine, while also depleting the natural surroundings. This has resulted in a detrimental impact on the wildlife in the area, which is already facing challenges due to climate change-induced drought.

“We’re discussing a thriving environment, as the substance being extracted from this salt flat is water. And as we know, water is essential for life,” Garcés explained. “One could view it as a complex and interdependent ecosystem.”

The salt flats and surrounding waters hold immense importance for Indigenous cultures due to their environmental significance. They are considered sacred and play a crucial role in native celebrations throughout the month of August.

The town of Flores de Callata is located among 38 other towns that also border two large salt flats – the Guayatayoc lagoon and Salinas Grandes. Tourism and small-scale salt harvesting are important sources of income for these towns, including Flores de Callata.

Every day before starting work, the Flores de Callata family performs a ritual to honor Pachamama, a revered figure in Andean culture symbolizing the Earth. In their enclosure for llamas and sheep made of stone, they dig a pit and place coca leaves and clear alcohol in it, symbolizing life and water respectively.

The Kolla people have a strong cultural belief in giving back to their land, just as the basin once provided for them. Over the years, the community has banded together to resist large-scale mining and constantly fought legal battles to stop these projects.

However, with each passing year, it has become increasingly challenging to protect against these mining companies.

Over 30 companies have requested authorization to extract water from the two salt flats. The community has placed signs along the perimeter of the flats stating, “Please acknowledge our land. Leave, lithium companies.”

Flores de Callata declared, “Our responsibility is to protect the highlands and our territory. I am not only concerned for my own well-being, but for the well-being of all those here. If the lithium mines are established, the repercussions will be felt throughout the entire region and its water sources.”

The situation reached a critical point last summer when the nearby government, motivated by the profits from the mines, revised its constitution in order to easily disregard certain rights of indigenous lands and restrict the ability to oppose the growth of mining.

Alicia Chalabe, the legal advocate for the affected communities, and several others contend that the action defies global legal standards.

Large numbers of native individuals demonstrated, obstructing routes frequently utilized by lithium mines and displaying indigenous flags adorned with rainbows. The reaction of officials to the nonviolent protestors was characterized by forceful suppression and unjust detentions, as reported by organizations such as Amnesty International and the United Nations. However, it is anticipated that the demonstrations will persist.

According to Chalabe, this is a domestic dispute that is affected by a larger international problem. The pressure to use lithium for electric cars is significant, making it a global concern. However, these communities are not facing this issue alone, as there is also a global resistance to it.

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In nearby Chile, worries about Argentina have emerged due to widespread lithium mining in the Atacama Desert, known as the driest location on the planet for over several years.

Enormous, dark tubes transport brackish groundwater through the cracked and pale terrain of the Atacama Salt Flat, resembling veins in the earth’s surface. They meander alongside loud, yellow bulldozers and laborers clad in vibrant orange vests.

The flat is home to the two lithium companies operating in Chile, SQM and American-owned Albemarle.

Valentín Barrera, a representative of SQM, Chile’s biggest lithium mine, stated that amidst a current crisis with significant challenges, there are also viable solutions. According to Barrera, lithium is one of those solutions. He emphasized the company’s desire to expand while acknowledging the important role it plays in combatting climate change.

At the SQM mine, the process involves pumping a minimum of 1,280 liters of brackish groundwater per second, which is approximately equal to 6 to 8 bathtubs, according to official figures from the mine. This is achieved through a network of tubes that lead to pools of varying colors – blue, green, and yellow – where the lithium-enriched water is transported from one pool to another.

According to a mine official, the extreme heat of the desert causes water to evaporate and strong winds can carry it as far as Brazil. Due to this evaporation and wind, minimal water can be returned to the soil. This results in the accumulation of salt and lithium, which are then extracted and utilized by major companies such as Tesla.

In the meantime, neighboring communities have witnessed the shrinking of their land.

Residents living near the mines, such as 62-year-old Orlando Morales who is a farmer, have voiced complaints about their reduced crop yields.

According to a study conducted in 2022, flamingos have been gradually dying due to mining, as they rely on microorganisms found in the brine for food. The species’ eggs used to be an important source of sustenance for the local community and they are still a significant aspect of native traditions and festivities.

Meanwhile, wells and lagoons next to the mines brimming with intense blue fresh water dried up. The grass Morales’ livestock would once eat has vanished, he said.

In the past, there was more rain in this area, but now there is hardly any. If you look outside, everything is dry. This makes it difficult to take care of our sheep and llamas because there is no vegetation,” shared Morales as his wife tended to a section of corn. “Our community is at risk of losing our traditional ways and customs.”

Similar to what has happened in Argentina, the mining industry has sparked a series of criticisms and legal disputes, as community members advocate for a say in the future of their land.

In 2013, an environmental analysis discovered that approximately one-third of the carob trees – a resilient plant known for thriving in challenging conditions – around the SQM mine had perished. A large quantity of trees were also experiencing decline.

In 2016, a probe uncovered that SQM was taking out more groundwater than allowed by law for multiple years in a row, resulting in a significant threat to the ecosystem. SQM responded by accusing their neighboring company of engaging in similar practices. As a result, in 2022, SQM was directed to pay $51.7 million in order to address six violations, which included issues of transparency and the pollution of fresh water sources.

SQM spokesperson Barrera, would not directly respond when asked if they can say definitively that they haven’t damaged the environment.

He stated that based on the available information, the surroundings of the mines have not undergone any significant changes.

He attributed the rulings of the court and the criticisms to lies and shifted the blame to state-controlled copper mines, which also consume a large amount of water. The director of the mine later stated that the water pumped by the lithium mines is replenished by rain and natural freshwater sources in the nearby mountains, which provide water for the surrounding communities.

At Albemarle, a representative from the mine occupying the flat, claimed that the liquid they pump is not considered water, as it is not safe for consumption.

Nearly twelve experts who were interviewed by The Associated Press expressed their disbelief that the significant use of water would have no negative effects on the environment.

According to Garcés, a hydrologist from Chile, the removal of resources could potentially accelerate the impacts of climate change.

She stated that the planet is heating up, causing an increase in the rate of water evaporation. The industry in question is contributing to the accelerated loss of water.

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The mining of lithium has resulted in an economic upswing in certain areas of Chile.

Since the time of the indigenous Atacama people, Ramon Torres’ family has been leading their herd of goats along the undulating hills of Peine, a village located at the entrance of Chile’s salt flats.

In the early 1980s, when companies began extracting lithium, Ramon Torres was one of the individuals who expressed interest. He labored in the tinted pools, transitioning from a lifestyle of mere survival, like his parents and grandparents, to one of saving.

At present, he is situated on the front patio of his modest brick dwelling, browsing through his mobile phone, which he was able to buy with the proceeds from his mining job. He observes scarlet-colored trucks carrying miners as they pass by his house, headed for a full day of labor as the sun ascends into the sky.

“There is development, but there’s also the water issue. And they contradict each other,” he said. “Because everyone needs money, everyone also needs the basics, like healthcare and education.”

This tension has caused division among mining communities in both Chile and Argentina, as the undeniable economic benefits of lithium are evident. Mining accounts for a significant 62% of Chile’s exports and serves as a crucial foundation for the country’s economy.

The money that the mines have brought has rippled across Peine. Torres now works building homes for and rents to mine workers that have flooded the region.

Businesses promote investment opportunities in neighboring cities, highlighting the presence of mobile dental clinics and soccer fields, thereby addressing the longstanding lack of action from the Chilean government.

Even though the foliage in the surrounding areas has dried up, Peine still receives clean water from man-made channels and water facilities constructed by corporations. This water flows from wells located in nearby mountains.

Mountain communities are now experiencing the impacts of these effects, but do not receive any benefits from the companies.

The mining companies have caused conflicts with indigenous communities, resulting in increased tension. Traditional practices such as ranching and communal work have diminished. Younger members of the Atacameño community are leaving their towns to work in the mines, resulting in smaller indigenous populations.

According to a recent United Nations report, the mining industry has utilized 65% of the water resources in the Atacama Salt Flat, resulting in significant environmental damage such as depleted groundwater, soil pollution, and displacement of indigenous communities from their ancestral homes.

Experts believe that the negative consequences of current pumping may not be fully experienced until later on in time.

Torres expressed concern that once the current “lithium boom” subsides, they will be in a predicament when the mines close and they are left with nothing. He emphasized, “Mining is our only source of income now.”

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As the focus on lithium mining has grown, the control over water in the surrounding area has shifted away from the local communities.

Last April, the forward-thinking Chilean leader Gabriel Boric revealed a strategy to minimize the negative effects on the environment from the lithium industry by strengthening government oversight of lithium mines.

Officials from the government reported to the AP that a recently proposed strategy would give them more control over water consumption and also promote equitable distribution of wealth among more than just a select few individuals. However, the plans were met with backlash from indigenous communities who felt they were once again being ignored in negotiations between the government and mining companies.

The decision also resulted in negative consequences, as it encouraged mining companies to invest in Argentina instead. This has led to a surge in lithium mining activities in the neighboring country.

Miguel Soler, the secretary of mining for Jujuy in northern Argentina, sees (Chile’s choice) as a chance for his country to benefit.

The newly-elected leader of Argentina, Javier Milei, who promised to improve the country’s declining economy, has given mining companies unrestricted access, following his right-wing, “anarcho-capitalist” beliefs.

The leader who wields a chainsaw has declared a widespread removal of regulations, reducing expenses for mining corporations in hopes of attracting investors during a worsening financial crisis. Milei’s ascent to authority will probably make it even more difficult for indigenous communities to successfully resist mining companies.

Although Bolivia has more lithium deposits than both of these countries, they have not been extensively utilized.

In recent times, the region has become a battleground for major global powers, such as the U.S. and China, who are vying for control over its abundant lithium reserves. The Biden administration is also working to counter Chinese dominance in the area, with some officials even considering Chinese investment in the lithium industry as a threat to democracy.

In the meantime, the growing fascination with their hometown of Tusaquillas is just another disaster for Irene Leonor Flores de Callata and her community.

She gazes upon the expansive salt pans, where the water has given life to the desolate earth.

She surveys her herd of livestock that she has tirelessly guided through the desert for many years.

Flores de Callata gazes at the adobe house that she and her husband constructed from scratch, where her grandchildren now lovingly embrace her as they walk home from school.

She is curious about what will remain after 20 years.

“She expressed concern that if the mines were to arrive, there may be a temporary financial gain. However, she emphasized the long-term consequences for future generations, such as our grandchildren and great-grandchildren, who will ultimately bear the brunt of the damages. She is determined to take every measure possible to protect these lands, ensuring that they can continue to cultivate these fields and have access to clean waters.”

Source: wral.com