Tossed Aside in the 'White Gold' Rush: Indigenous People Are Left Poor as Tech World Takes Lithium from under Their Feet

Story by Todd C. Frankel and Peter Whoriskey; Photos and videos by Michael Robinson Chavez; Video editing by Jorge Ribas (The Washington Post) In the thin air of the salt flats here, nearly 13,000 feet above sea level, the indigenous Atacamas people face a constant struggle. ... Yet beneath their ancestral land lies a modern-day Silicon Valley treasure: lithium.

The silvery-white metal is essential for the lithium-ion batteries that power smartphones, laptops and electric vehicles, and the popularity of these products has prompted a land rush here. Mining companies have for years been extracting billions of dollars of lithium from the Atacama region in Chile, and now firms are flocking to the neighboring Atacama lands in Argentina to hunt for the mineral known as “white gold.”

According to previously undisclosed contracts reviewed by The Washington Post, one lithium company, a joint Canadian-Chilean venture named Minera Exar, struck deals with six aboriginal communities for a new mine here. The operation is expected to generate about $250 million a year in sales while each community will receive an annual payment — ranging from $9,000 to about $60,000 — for extensive surface and water rights.

Another lithium company here, a joint venture of an Australian mining company and Toyota Tsusho of Japan that began production in 2015, makes cash payments to the village where its plant is based. A company representative declined to release details of the contract but said the money has been used to help build a school hall.

In visits to all six of the indigenous communities, which lie on a mountain-ringed desert about 25 miles from Argentina’s northwest border with Chile, The Post found a striking contrast — faraway companies profiting from mineral riches while the communities that own the land struggle to pay for sewage systems, drinking water and heat for schools.

Many in the communities also are worried that the lithium plants, which use vast amounts of water, will deepen existing shortages in the region, which receives less than four inches of rain a year. At least one of the six communities, Pastos Chicos, already has to have potable water trucked in.

“There is no resistance,” said Alex Losada-Calderon, general manager of Sales de Jujuy, the lithium company that opened a plant on the Olaroz salt flat in 2015. “From the very beginning we worked very, very closely with the local community.”

But opposition is not hard to find. A protest banner, reading “The lithium belongs to the local people,” recently welcomed travelers outside the airport in Salta, which is frequented by mining executives. The drive to the salt flats leads past a barrier on a steep mountain pass with the spray-painted message: “No to the contamination of the mines.” And settlements are dotted with people concerned about the future.

More generally, however, the lithium supply chain is obscured by consumer companies’ refusal to divulge their suppliers. A few, such as Pulead, a maker of battery parts, answered questions about sources. Albemarle, the world’s largest lithium producer, discloses its major customers. Apple publishes a list of its top suppliers.

Samsung did not reply to repeated requests for comment. Tesla would not identify which companies supply the lithium in its car batteries.

Because of the jobs it offers, many among the Atacamas are pleased with the arrival of the lithium mining. Each position pays about $1,000 a month, a typical wage in Argentina and a very good one in this region. In Olaroz Chico, one of the six villages here and the one that sits closest to the plants, many expressed satisfaction with the lithium operations.

“Without lithium, we would be starving,” said Apolinar Nieva, who has worked for years as a miner, first in borax, now lithium. The lithium companies care for their workers much better, he said. “The lithium plants give us food, give us uniforms. They are really doing things legally. And they should — part of the land they’re using belongs to the community.”

The lithium rush these days is powered by the rise of mobile technology, which has led to a run-up in prices and, in turn, lured mining companies to Argentina.

The rush was set off in part by Tesla, which in 2013 announced plans to build a lithium-ion-battery “Gigafactory” in Nevada. In a few years, the company has said, the facility will produce as much battery power as the entire world did in 2013. A parade of car companies and technology makers have followed, heralding “Gigafactories” of their own.

Global lithium demand is expected to triple by 2025, according to Deutsche Bank and Goldman Sachs.

Many of the communities here seem overmatched in the negotiations with the mining companies.

Possibly worse than being excluded from the mineral bonanza, some indigenous people say, is the possibility that the lithium companies could exacerbate existing water shortages. Already, the area has suffered a drought of several years.

Earlier this year, in Huancar, residents barricaded the nearby highway after losing the village water supply for more than 50 days. They set fires and held signs. No one could afford to fix Huancar’s only well pump. Eventually, the provincial government installed a new one.

While scientists are divided and uncertain about the environmental effects of lithium mining, it is undisputed that lithium refining depends on gargantuan amounts of water. Concentrating the brine, which contains only traces of lithium, requires burning off lots of water, and even more is needed to wash the finished product. A ton of lithium generally requires as much as 500,000 gallons of water. READ MORE and MORE (PR Newswire/FinancialBuzz.com)