An Original Audio Story Series Led by Nate Otjen, Juan Manuel Rubio + Jessica Ng
You can find Mining for the Climate on on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, iHeartRadio and PlayerFM.
The energy transition often presents a single vision of the future, one where renewable technologies bring about decarbonized living. Miraculously, this vision promises a world that has been transformed through technological innovation and a world that doesn’t look much different from our current reality. In this imagined future, technology creates improved living conditions, even as modern transportation infrastructure and voracious consumerism remain unchanged. Though it presents itself as a positive — and absolutely necessary — departure from the dirty ways of living enabled by fossil fuels and their use, this vision of energy transition relies on scales and magnitudes of extraction and consumption never seen before.
Mining for the Climate examines the perils of the energy transition and its reliance on critical minerals. The project emphasizes the voices and perspectives of frontline communities, bringing climate justice stories about the impacts of critical mineral mining to wider publics. We ask if increased mining—and a more mining-dependent society—is in the best interests of humans, other beings and the climate.
The project will result in a multiple-season audio documentary series published by Blue Lab. The first season was released in January 2024. It takes a deep look at Piedmont Lithium’s proposed mine in Gaston County, North Carolina. The second season will examine contestations over the Thacker Pass Lithium Mine at Peehee Mu’huh in Humboldt County, Nevada. It will be released in late 2024 or early 2025, along with a critical mapping component.
In addition to offering a platform for environmental storytelling and research, Mining for the Climate is a pedagogical project. Undergraduate students learn an array of skills, including how to use audio and video recording equipment, how to interview people and how to produce audio narratives. At the same time, we are working to bring these stories to primary and secondary classrooms where they can further inspire and impact.
Credits
Created by Juan Manuel Rubio and Nate Otjen with research, writing and production support from Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang and Max Widmann. Hosted by Juan Manuel Rubio, Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang and Nate Otjen and mixed by Juan Manuel Rubio, Nate Otjen and Grace Wang.
Mining for the Climate is a production of Blue Lab with support from Princeton University. For their support and expertise, we also thank, at Princeton, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, Humanities Council and Office of the Dean of Research, as well as Kouvenda Media.
Copyright 2023 Nate Otjen, Juan Manuel Rubio and Blue Lab.
Season 1: Gaston County, North Carolina
You can find Mining for the Climate on on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, iHeartRadio and PlayerFM.
Season 1 takes listeners to a proposed lithium mine in Gaston County, North Carolina, an agricultural region hailed by mining and green technology companies as a future hub for the production of lithium batteries. We talk to local residents who oppose a 1,500-acre open-pit mine proposed by Piedmont Lithium and explore the ecological and social issues at stake if domestic reliance on mining deepens.
Episode 1: White Gold Rush
Mining for the Climate Episode 1: “White Gold Rush”
Full Transcript
[00:00:00] 8, 000 feet beneath my feet, there's enough lithium to power America's electric car industry into the foreseeable future. There is a treasure. Potentially worth billions of dollars. He takes us to a remote part of California near the border with Mexico. And a billion dollar project promising to transform this region.
Now what some people are calling California's lithium valley is an economic and environmental wasteland.
But it could be on the cusp of a boom like this area hasn't seen in 60 years.
Gaston County homeowners are voicing their opinions to state regulators about a proposed lithium mine. Piedmont Lithium needs a state permit to begin mining lithium for electric car companies like Tesla. But after receiving comments from several homeowners, the state is holding a public hearing right now to hear directly from affected people. [00:01:00]
How dangerous is the idea of a mine?
Mine's have scarred the earth. They have displaced communities. They have provided. And they have taken.
But not every mine gets built. And not every mine needs to be built.
In a way, whether a mine gets built or not depends on the decisions we make, the power we have, and the stories we tell.
One narrative has been dominating the topic of mining lately. The story presents certain minerals as essential for saving the planet from climate disaster.
While we're making this transition from an energy system that was based in hydrocarbons, like, uh, oil and gas. [00:02:00] That transition is actually moving towards a fairly mineral intensive future one, which is going to require significant amounts of cobalt, lithium, rare earth elements, nickel copper, a whole range of different materials, that'll make our climate goals happen.
Investment in developing critical minerals rose 30% last year, according to the IEA building on 2020, was a 20% jump in spending. The market's doubled in the last five years, hitting $320 billion in 2022. Now the opportunity is not lost on mining companies.
We aren't just digging for digging's sake we're trying to make sure that we can solve the climate crisis and also that we can make sure that we can compete in the new economies of the future, which will be electric, and which will run on minerals.
This narrative often assumes that there is only one possible transition. We either mine these critical minerals or we face climate collapse.
The cost of mining for the [00:03:00] climate is hardly acknowledged. And when it is, it is excused. “We might not like mining, but this is an emergency," the story goes, "and when we are in an emergency, we have to make sacrifices."
Eventually, we're going to have to put some shovels in the ground to dig up the raw materials we're going to need to fuel our electric vehicles. People need to understand that you can't make something out of nothing. There are going to be trade offs, but how can you offset what we're doing to the land and also to recognize again, that bigger picture.
These minerals are distributed unevenly across the globe and not always in ideal locations.
70% of the world's cobalt is mined in the war-torn and corrupt democratic Republic of Congo. This is one of the thousands of unregulated, unmonitored mines in the DRC. It's crawling with children, working like modern day slaves. A 12-hour long day of [00:04:00] punishing work may earn them the equivalent of a pound.
And we need these minerals from these sacrifice zones because there is something we need to protect.
A company called Rivian won the race to deliver the first all-electric pickup and is now launching an SUV. By now you might have heard that electric vehicles are fast. Uh, that's like being on some sort of rocket ship ride.
Yeah, it's very, very quick. But R. J. Scaringe, the founder and CEO of Rivian, is out to prove they can also be fierce. Oh, we're literally going to go crawl up a wall of rocks. We are going to crawl up this wall of rocks. He calls this an adventure vehicle.
These messages present electric vehicles, not as a solution to issues of transportation, but as objects of desire.
Car companies promote EVs, and electric [00:05:00] trucks in particular, as fast, powerful, and manly.
Journalists and technocrats also present EVs, lithium batteries, and the mining of critical minerals as a national security issue.
China extracts a majority of the world's graphite and rare earth elements, such as neodymium that are used for magnets inside wind turbines and electric vehicles. Western nations could merely replace their one-time dependence on foreign oil and gas sources with a new dependence on China.
That's why today I'm issuing a directive to strengthen our clean energy economy. I'm going to use the Defense Production Act.
Recently President Biden invoked the defense production act to unlock more funds for mineral projects though, his regulators have also stood in the way of some mines. Last year's Bipartisan Infrastructure Bill allocated several billion dollars to the production and recycling of critical minerals in the US [00:06:00], it also moved to cut red tape from mining on federal land.
These stories about mining, about the climate, and about the future set us on one unquestioned path.
The path that these stories outline for us is one where mining not only increases, but also becomes even more central to our everyday lives.
More mining, more consumption, more growth.
Here's Fareed Zakaria from CNN arguing that there is only one inevitable path ahead of us.
The minerals industry isn't as popular as renewable energy, particularly on the left. There are real environmental hazards, but if people want to protect the planet from climate change and authoritarian powers, they will have to get on board with new mineral projects. Even the ocean floor cannot be off limits.[00:07:00]
This will have to remain a priority for years and years to come. For the sake of the planet and international security we will need to dig deep, quite literally.
But what impacts do these stories have on mining communities?
What stories are these communities telling? And what paths do they envision for the future?
Welcome to Mining for the Climate, a series about mines, local struggles, and a global rush to save the planet.
My name is Juan Manuel and I'll be your host for this first episode.
I am a historian and one thing I've learned in my research is that mines are like living organisms. They consume their surrounding environment. They eat forests and they drink [00:08:00] from rivers. They also consume a lot of energy and they release tons of waste.
It is not always easy to know how these bodies are affecting local communities, and this is in part because there's a history of mining companies obscuring the environmental impacts of their operations.
In February 2011, an Ecuadorian court found Chevron guilty of one of the largest environmental disasters on the planet, and ordered the oil giant to pay $18 billion in environmental damages for dumping nearly 16 billion gallons of toxic oil, drilling water waste into the rivers in the Amazon.
But there's also a history of people showing us what mines do and how they spread.
We end today's show in Ecuador, where Voter Sunday overwhelmingly supported a historic referendum blocking oil extraction in the Amazon's Yasuní [00:09:00] National Park.
The effort was spearheaded by Indigenous leaders and environmental defenders.
This is why I think it's important to stay tuned to the communities that are challenging mining projects as they emerge. They're keeping the pulse on how these metabolisms work. How they grow and who they harm.
Now let's hear from the rest of the team and why they joined this project.
My name is Max. I'm a senior at Princeton, where I study environmental and urban history.
My generation has grown up alongside the electric vehicle. When I was six, Tesla released the first EV powered by lithium-ion batteries. Since then, the world's car manufacturers have committed to electrifying their fleets in the coming decades.
It seems, to be a good environmentalist, you need to have a long-range EV with hundreds of pounds of lithium, cobalt, and other contested minerals sitting in your [00:10:00] garage.
But that type of thinking seems outdated to me.
We know that private car ownership is incompatible with sustainable and walkable cities. There are eight parking spots for every car in this country, wasting land on which we could grow food or plant trees. Car infrastructure also comes at the cost of affordable, efficient, and convenient public transportation.
I’d like to imagine a world without cars, but I'm also realistic. Electric vehicles are coming, and I want us to do this transition well, both for the environment and for people around the world.
That's why I joined Mining for the Climate.
My name is Alex. From very early on in my life, I have felt the urgency of the climate crisis.
I feel it in the ravages of each new heat wave that stifles, flood that drowns, or storm that sweeps away. I also feel it on a more day to day level, in the consumptive, fossil based social structures and energy systems which keep us on course for climate collapse.[00:11:00]
The urgency I feel drove me to climate activism, to pressuring policy makers, energizing young people, and dragging the needle towards action as much as I could. That continues at Princeton, where I fight to dismantle fossil fuel investment and oil sponsored research.
So when the Biden administration began to throw billions of dollars towards climate infrastructure, I became hopeful for the future in a way that I hadn't been before.
Finally, after years of organizing from activists like myself, the government seemed to be moving with an urgency that was closer to what the climate crisis demands. But now I'm worried about this urgency. What can go wrong when we speed up? When we speed up, we overlook harm. When we speed up, we leave people behind. When we speed up, we accuse criticism of impeding action.
The climate crisis demands urgency. There's no question about it. But how we channel that [00:12:00] urgency matters. That's why I want to know how lithium mining companies deploy urgency and in what other forms it can manifest in order to bring about a just societal transformation.
My name is Grace. and I'm interested in stories.
I like stories because I like learning about people.
And I’ve found that climate stories can tell us a lot about how the world works. They're about systems and institutions and the people at the heart of them.
Climate stories are stories about society, and how those implicated, all of us choose to move through it.
I'm curious about the narratives being crafted as a result of the climate crisis, those about the people in power, and those who are on the other side.
I want to get to know all these people, [00:13:00] and understand their beliefs, stakes, and hopes.
And during the process, I hope to find the stories that move us.
That push us to reconsider the world as we see it, and drive us to action.
My name is Nate. When I was about six years old, the state of Pennsylvania took 10 acres of our farm to build a four-lane highway. This included fields of sunflowers and small grains that I walked through, and several large fruit trees that I climbed. The Pennsylvania Department of Transportation told my family that we wouldn't hear or notice the road.
The highway has proven to be tremendously destructive. Not a day goes by when it isn't heard or thought. Some of the loudest vehicles are the dump trucks [00:14:00] hauling crushed rock from one of two limestone quarries just a few miles away.
In part because of the four-lane highway, I now study and write about environmental justice issues. It is well documented that environmental injustices overwhelmingly affect the most disadvantaged. Around the world, communities of color and impoverished communities suffer disproportionately from environmental violence.
Animals and plants also suffer, often alongside disadvantaged human communities who depend upon these beings for their cultures and identities. But because they are not human, they are often left out of consideration.
Every day, most animals and plants face a constant struggle simply to survive. Some have called their experiences a "war,” while others have called it "omnicide,” or the killing of everything. Like breaking ground for a road, building a mine has [00:15:00] consequences for local animals and plants. It forever alters the relationships among human communities and the ecologies that support them.
Mining, it is important to remember, is not a predetermined activity. Instead, it results from a set of worldviews that position humans outside ecological relations and above all other beings.
So how do lithium mines expose animals, plants, and the humans who depend upon them to new perils? In envisioning and developing the futures of energy, can we learn to live well together?
In the first season of mining for the climate, we'll visit Gaston County, North Carolina. There, Piedmont Lithium is proposing a 1500-acre open-pit lithium mine.
The mine is not built yet, so how dangerous can the [00:16:00] idea of this mine be?
I start hearing from neighbors that people are getting harassed. Wait a minute, wait a minute. I said, I'm not selling any land.
As we're mining, there obviously is a potential for dust to be generated and created. We will be using water suppression as our dust control suppression system.
My biggest thing is, to Piedmont Lithium, to the county, to the state, to the federal government: stop burying the truth.
Every mine reaches a crossroads at which its fate is determined.
Piedmont's Carolina project is at that crossroads right now. So what kind of future will this project bring?
This is coming up on Mining for the Climate.
[00:17:00] Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio, and it's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
For their support and expertise, we thank at Princeton, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, the Humanities Council, and the Office of the Dean of Research, as well as Kouvenda Media.
This episode of Mining for the Climate was produced by me, Juan Manuel Rubio, and edited by me and Nate Otjen.
Our research and production team includes: Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen, and Juan Manuel Rubio.
Music for this episode was by Purple Planet. Find it at purple-planet.com.
Additional music tracks are from Shake That Little Foot and Pryor Meadows.
Mining for the Climate was made possible by funding from Blue Lab, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, and the Office of the Dean for Research at Princeton University.
We would like to express our [00:18:00] gratitude to the following people for their generosity and kindness. Amir Adaryani, H. L. Beam, Locke Bell, Ian Bigley, Rebecca Buck, Chad Brown, Brian Dalton, Wyatt Gjullin, Larry Neal, Monique Parker, Adam Parr, Thea Riofrancos, Erin Sanders, Lisa Stroupe, Emily Winter, and Tom.
At Blue Lab, we especially thank the lab's director, Allison Carruth, along with Barron Bixler, Maggie Poost, Jayme Collins, Jessica Ng, and Mario Soriano.
At the High Meadows Environmental Institute, we thank Emily Ahmetaj, Stacey Christian, Kathy Hackett, Nathan Jessee, Ryan Juskus, Zack Kaado, Heidi Mihalik, and Laura Matecha.
And at the Effron Center for the Study of America, we give special thanks to NicQuwesha Toliver.
A few stories about critical minerals have dominated the news lately: “We must mine to save the planet;” “China is taking over rare-earth elements;” “EVs are leading the green revolution.” These stories lay the groundwork for a future that is unquestionably mining intensive. However, does every mine need to be built?
The proposed lithium mine in Gaston County, North Carolina, has not broken ground and it’s already causing significant disruptions for residents. So how dangerous is the idea of a mine?
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio. It’s a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
Episode Credits
- Written by Juan Manuel Rubio
- Hosted by Juan Manuel Rubio
- Sound design by Juan Manuel Rubio
- Research and production team: Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Music by Purple Planet and Pryor Meadows
Audio Clip Credits
- A Look At Lithium Mining, CNN, 2022
- Behind the First All-Electric Truck Company, Rivian, CBS Mornings, 2022
- Chevron Back in Court for Worst Case of Oil Pollution on the Planet, The Real News Network, 2015
- Critical Mineral Mining Sees Unprecedented Growth Fueled by Clean Energy Demand, CNBC, 2023
- How Critical Minerals Are Vital to the Climate Fight, ABC News, 2022
- In Major Win for Indigenous Rights, Ecuador Votes to Ban Oil Drilling in Protected Amazon Lands, Democracy Now, 2023
- Last Look: The Green Transition Will Trigger a New Race for Natural Resources, CNN, 2022 Neighbors Speak out against Piedmont Lithium Mine Plan, 2021
- Special Report : Inside the Congo Cobalt Mines That Exploit Children, Sky News, 2017
Locke Bell showing us around his land, portions of which border the proposed mine site. Photo by Grace Wang.
Map from August 2021 depicting Piedmont Lithium’s proposed mine. Held by Monique Parker, Vice President of Safety, Environment, and Health. Photo by Grace Wang.
North Carolina has a long history of mining. Site manager Larry Neal shows us how gold was extracted from the Reed Mine during the 19th century, the first documented gold find in the United States. Photo by Alex Norbrook.
Lithium at various stages of processing. Image taken at Piedmont Lithium’s exploration office in Bessemer City. Photo by Grace Wang.
Episode 2: Land Histories and Futures
Mining for the Climate Episode 2: “Land Histories and Futures”
Full Transcript
[00:00:00] First I heard about it is because we get hay locally over on Hastings Road. We had made a friendship with, uh, Randy Hastings, who's right there on the corner of Hastings Road. And we were buying hay off of him, and he started growing a special type of hay for us because we have a breeding operation. We got one season out of it, and then in 2016 is when we started hearing that there's something going on.
We got one more year and then Randy quit doing hay because he sold out.
I believe it was back in 2017. I was at Ferguson Hardware in Cherryville and I was, you know, it's the gossip center for a lot of the men. And I was overhearing about this Piedmont Lithium company had offered to purchase someone's farm for, you know, and they said it [00:01:00] must have been an astronomical amount of money because they signed on the spot, but they will not, cannot disclose the amount.
And I'm like, who is Piedmont Lithium? You know, what's, what's going on?
In 2016, residents of Gaston County started to realize that the lives they built in a rural community 45 minutes outside of Charlotte, North Carolina were at risk.
A company called Piedmont Lithium was planning to build an open pit mine on land populated by family farms and country houses. And for this project, the company needed a lot of land.
I'm Max Widmann, and in this episode of Mining for the Climate, we'll look into how the idea of a mine becomes reality.
What strategies does a mining company use to secure the land it needs to operate? How do long-term residents experience this process? And what happens before ground is even broken? [00:02:00]
My name's Locke Bell, 73 years old. I'm the retired elected district attorney here in Gaston County, and I've been living on this land since I bought it in 96, built the house in 98.
We're sitting on Locke's veranda, overlooking a big garden. Locke owns a lot of land in this area.
He grows everything. Corn, collards, pecans, heirloom apples, and even grapes for wine. A hundred years ago, everything here was farmland. Since then, forests have grown up. As we talk on Locke's veranda, we're sitting a few hundred feet from where Piedmont plans to blast lithium out of the ground.
So, uh, six, seven years ago, Lamont Leatherman sat right here on this veranda. He came to, he's the chief geologist and one of the major stockholders, and he was from Lincoln County. His father [00:03:00] was a lawyer in the next county over, and I knew his dad, Clarence.
So I'm talking to Lamont and he's telling me that, they're gonna start this thing and they, uh, gonna do a little bit of mining outta here. It's gonna be a small thing. And we talked and he was throwing all these figures at me and I'm going “wait a minute, wait a minute.” I said, “I'm not selling any land.” Locke is describing a conversation he had with Lamont Leatherman, a Piedmont Lithium senior executive.
Well, what I told him, I have a 24-acre track that I purchased in the back. I said, here's what I will do. I said, uh, “I will trade you the mineral rights. I'm not selling any land, but I will trade you the mineral rights on that 24 acres,” I said, “How much would you give me?” And he's counting that land that they had picked up and he said, “We will give you after we finish 540 acres for the mineral [00:04:00] rights.” I said, “That works.” They'll give it to me as payment for my letting them mine.
We haven't seen any documents concerning this offer, and we couldn't verify it happened. But according to Locke, this was a good deal.
He would allow the company to mine an unused portion of his property, and he'd get back over 20 times the acreage once the lithium was extracted.
And I said, uh, they're talking about the drilling and how much they'd pay. I said, “Well, if you wanna drill and find out what's in my, onto my land, hey, let's find out.” “No, no, no. You have to sign the contracts before we'll drill.” So you decide whether to buy based on what you find. I gotta decide whether to sell before we even know what it's worth. Come on. Um, I know much better. I've done real estate as a side thing for many, many years.
Piedmont, [00:05:00] Locke says, tried to buy his land without giving him an idea of the lithium's actual value. No one knows exactly how much resource lies underground in Gaston County, but with Piedmont projecting an estimated economic output of almost four billion dollars in the first five years it operates, this land is potentially very valuable.
And then he said, “Now you can't tell anybody this because we're telling everybody else they can't keep their land.” Lots of the people out here wanted to keep their land. It'd been in the family for hundreds of years. Cause the old agreements, you always kept the land.
You had, uh, Lithium Corporation of America; before that, Boria.
These were companies that mined lithium in the area until the 1980s, when corporations began to offshore lithium extraction to other countries.
If you go back through these, these, all had mineral rights and they would buy options on the mineral rights. But you always got to keep farm. If they, if they [00:06:00] mined it, you got your land back.
50 years ago, the established mining companies used land leases to mine lithium. They'd return the land after the resource was extracted. That model won't work with the much larger operation Piedmont has planned, but many of those who sold out didn't realize the difference.
So the people out here, the old timers thought that was the same deal and they got really pushed. I think a number of them didn't realize what they were signing. These are these multi, multi-page contracts that have all this legalese in them, that as a lawyer, I would've to read the contract two or three times.
Over the past few years, Locke and other residents have started to notice Piedmont using option agreements to take control of properties. Piedmont said in an SEC report that these contracts allow them to gain control over both the mineral rights and the surface property. [00:07:00] They said that their options agreements, and I quote, "generally provide us with an option to purchase the optioned property at a specified premium over fair market value."
As Locke said, these can be complicated, lengthy contracts. For a lot of the folks in Gaston County, hiring an attorney or getting an independent appraisal is out of the question.
We spoke with one resident who's read some of these contracts. He wanted to remain anonymous, so we'll call him Tom, and we'll be hearing from Tom at several moments throughout this episode.
So typically my understanding, there were three year option agreements. You would sign it within any period of time, they could exercise it at their discretion, right? So you give up all of your rights, you lock into a price at that point, um, which you feel like is reasonable, and it was being based on the real estate, the improvements, regardless of what was subsurface.
And so a lot of these folks, it was a lot of money to 'em, right? And never in their wildest dreams did they expect somebody would actually act [00:08:00] on it, exercise it, and you know, take the property under option.
These complex contracts were not the only mechanism that Piedmont used to acquire thousands of acres. The more Locke heard, the more concerned he grew about the company that seemed to be changing his rural community.
I start hearing from neighbors that people are getting harassed.
Locke thinks that Piedmont's land buyers made the mine seem inevitable before the company had permitting or zoning. And when the company bought land on three sides of someone, landowners felt that selling was the only way to avoid the mine's impacts, like pollution and noise.
Well, if you don't, we're just going to put the mine right outside your back window. They had a 50-foot backyard, the mine's gonna be on the side of that. “We're gonna surround you.” And the people were forced to sell.
Locke said that as Piedmont gathered more property, they could pressure neighbors into [00:09:00] selling.
The tactics that Locke and Tom have described are not specific to Piedmont Lithium. Tom showed us a document written by the activist Carlos Zorrilla, who's involved in resisting mining projects in Ecuador.
We can put up the Guide to Protecting Your Community, which is written for citizens to protect themselves against this exact situation.
So this was published in in 2009. This is a guide, for community organizers. So everything that they have done is kind of tracked and followed very similarly in this guide, you know? It felt like I was reading our story.
The guide describes 13 tactics used by mining companies to amass land holdings. Tactic number two involves the company finding a so called "local ally" to host an initial open meeting.
Um, I don't think they ever found an ally.
Thom Tillis, who is the representative right from North Carolina, um, federal level, [00:10:00] he is their ally now, but that didn't happen until 2022 he would be that person today.
Tom says that one of North Carolina's senators serves as Piedmont's local ally, bringing a hawkish perspective on national critical mineral policy.
Tillis sent some of his people there. Between first meeting where the public spoke out, second meeting where took it off the agenda effectively, Tom Tillis apparently sent some of his folks and, you know, insinuated that this is a matter of, you know, US security, you have to do this, you know, this is the only place.
Eighty percent of this rare earth mineral comes from China, and without this rare earth mineral creating a super alloy, none of our fighter jets can fly.
So I think we all can come together and recognize the economic value of this project.
Moving on to the fourth tactic, creation of a false front organization. When Piedmont first bought property, they did so under a different name, Gaston Land Company.
I [00:11:00] will say there was a lot of confusion by local citizens. They kept looking to see something that said Piedmont Lithium was buying property. They don't understand that you set up multiple entities and you have Gaston Land Company. So that was very confusing to a lot of folks.
Tactic six: purchase of critical land. They worked on several large families who owned large land holdings. and that's how they started to get the critical landmass. One of the first sellers didn't have a family connection. He had moved there and built this really nice house, uh, and was on about a hundred acres of land. And he didn't have any historical connection to the land. So he was probably one of the largest, first hundred-acre kind of sellers to sell to them.
Tom says that Piedmont first approached the property owners who would be most willing to sell. The newcomers, the transplants.
Tom thinks that once Piedmont acquired a critical amount of land [00:12:00] in the community, the mining company was able to convince everyone else to sell.
Tactic number seven, offers of service, projects, jobs. I mean that could be City of Cherryville, right?
Tom's referring to Cherryville's recent community development agreement with Piedmont. Cherryville, a city within Gaston County, relinquished zoning decisions for the small portion of the mine that falls within its boundaries. In exchange, Piedmont will pay the city 11 million over the next couple decades to supplement the city's budget.
Residents widely viewed the agreement as buying off Cherryville's elected officials.
In my opinion, the only way that Piedmont Lithium is finding support is to offer payoffs, donations, sponsorships and anything else to attempt to buy the goodwill from neighbors and corporations.
Tactic 10: company claims it's, no use fighting. I do think that they used that with folks and said, look, it's here. If not us, someone will mine this. It's going [00:13:00] to come out of the ground, it's going to be taken.
Then you overlay Tom Tillis's folks, hey, it's gotta happen. They were told that if they didn't take their offer, you know, the government would take their land.
I do think that, you know, the conversations have been very aggressive. I think they feel very, pressured to sell.
In Tom's opinion, Piedmont Lithium is following the mining company playbook.
Many people who have sold their homes and their farms to Piedmont have moved away, but some remain in the area. We talked with one man who didn't want to leave his community. He asked to remain anonymous. We'll call him George.
I didn't have no choice to sell out because they had bought every place around me.
They bought all the way up, up to Cherryville now. They bought that big horse ranch right up here above where I lived. They bought a lot of stuff.
As established businesses and long-term residents sold, George got the message that he had to leave. He used to work in a mine, and he didn't want to be exposed to the noise if he stayed put.
You know, you can't [00:14:00] live around in the noise. Hm. You know? You know what I'm saying? Just can't. I know. I used to work in that one right over there when I was 18 years old. Hauling ore outta the mine.
George sold out. He didn't tell us exactly how much he had made, but he said Piedmont had been generous. Even so, George had a hard time finding a new property in the area he could afford.
But we couldn't find a place, housing market boomed, you know, and we couldn't find nothing to buy, everything come online. It was people from outta state was buying it unseen and renting it out.
So you got displaced and you didn't have any place to go.
Nowhere to go.
George was forced to buy a small plot of land a bit further from the proposed mine. It's on a steep embankment and he's been moving dirt and rock to make it suitable for a house. When we spoke with him, he had just finished a 10-hour day laying cinder blocks. He's tired and feels like he shouldn't have to relocate at his old age.
It's been hard on me cause trying to get all this cleaned off.
I've been in the same place, you know, a long, many years and then have to up and leave and it's tough.[00:15:00] When you get 70 years old, it's tough. I'm an old man.
What makes life in rural Gaston County so attractive to those who won't sell out and those who've decided to stay put? Locke is one of the bigger landowners in the community. He has dreams for the land, which are now at risk with the proposed mine.
My wife and I were very old when we got married. We've both been single for many, many years. We don't have children, we don't have any lineals that need anything, so I want, she's always wanted this to be a park.
There's no park on the northwest part of the county. And I'd always been trying to shoot for about 200 acres.
We went to see the land that Locke intends to donate to the county. Much of it lies just beside where Piedmont Lithium plans to build one of its mining pits. We saw the trees that would be cut down, the rocks that would be blasted, the landscape that could be forever changed.
In the meantime, Locke is planning for the park.
[00:16:00] Hiking trails and a couple places to camp. If I could get it up to 200 acres, then like a recreation field, you know, where kids can come out and play soccer or whatever. Yeah. That kind of thing. But mostly I want people to be able to walk through woods like we're doing right now.
Um, you've got people that live out in this area, that they got some of these people, the deed to the family actually came from the King of England. There are people in Gaston County who had the deed hanging in the living room with the king's signature on it. That's where their family got the land. You got Bruce up here and you got Dennis over here and they got their parents and their grandparents and it's, it's who they are. It becomes part of your identity.
Um, they burned these over here, you know, and they just leave the ruins. This one [00:17:00] they burned recently. Um, so that one. They burn. Here's a burned one over here. Yeah. They burned that one back there. I mean, I've got videos of them burning the houses.
We're in the car with Tom. In the past one or two years, Piedmont Lithium has begun to demolish, move, or burn the empty houses on their newly acquired property. They're starting to clear the land in anticipation of building the mine. Piedmont says they use the house burnings to train local fire departments, but residents like Tom find the practice wasteful and threatening.
Hey, you know, we saw all these burned-out houses. “Oh, let me tell you what a great story this is. We trained the volunteer fire department and blah, blah, blah, blah.” You know? But somebody could be living here. So they do this and they're like, “Oh, lemme tell you about the Habitat House I built over in Belmont.” You're like, “Well, what about the guy in the trailer over here that you just, you know, displaced?” I mean, there's just house after house. I would argue they've done 30 of 'em probably.
[00:18:00] And they leave them this way to kind of scare everybody. It's a sacrifice. You live right here and they burn this house a hundred feet from you, and you sit here and watch this, it sucks. You know, you're gonna try to get outta here too.
During a late spring burn, Locke's neighbors saw large embers float over his land.
The embers are where, when they were burning a house. Couple of weeks ago, the embers were floating. A lot of my neighbors saw the embers, giant embers floating through the woods and landing in their yard.
Several neighbors, uh, one of 'em showed 'em to me. I then found the embers in my front yard, probably a mile away. One of 'em is about 12 feet long by probably about eight feet wide. It floated over about a mile.
We're burning everything down around you. We're coming in here, we're gonna take over. We're gonna do this. You better sell.
It's almost like they're, destroying [00:19:00] anything that they can, so it erases it, so you have nothing to go back to. We've forced you out now we've gotten rid of anything was there, you have no reason to come back.
Here's Rebecca Buck, another resident of the area, sharing her unique experience watching the fires and encountering Piedmont Lithium's employees. She hands us a bundle of documents that was given to her neighbor.
A couple of days before one of the burns, they never notified anybody we're gonna do a burning here.
On top, there's a letter from the Trionata Volunteer Fire Department in nearby Bessemer City. It warns of a training down the road from Rebecca's place, but paper clipped to it are a business card for Emily Winter, Community Relations Specialist for Piedmont Lithium, as well as a couple pages of promotional literature about the mine.
So they gave these to the fire marshal with a letter. Here it is. Jimmy Johnson, Fire Department Training Chief. And came to their [00:20:00] door and handed out this little thing here. Why is our fire department handing out publicity stuff?
Why are my public servants, who I pay, handing out this? I don't get mad about a lot of things, but I get mad about injustices and when I'm a taxpayer and I've got a fire department that's handing out these?
Rebecca was concerned about Piedmont Lithium's relationship with her county and town officials, so she decided to head over and watch the fire on that Saturday in March.
So they were all ready and it was this Emily Winter. She came up and asked me directly, who I was and what I was doing and that sort of thing. And oh, well if you wanna see, you can come up. We have front row seats and literature and that type of thing. They had cookies and coffee, and you could sit in the front row and watch 'em burn down a house and watch it burn.
I would ask,[00:21:00] what's going on here? They tell us that, oh, well we're doing this. And I go, well, how many of you burned? And as soon as I start to ask too many questions, then it was like another guy came up and said something. And he immediately quit answering my questions.
At this point, Rebecca decided to move to a nearby field to watch the burning. Then she says someone from Piedmont began to follow her.
I was off to myself and had gone off to a field away from the house and the crowd and was filming and my husband was watching from the truck across parked cuz he had dropped me off. And I asked him, I go, did you see that guy come up and try to intimidate me? And he goes, oh yeah.
He says, he pulled up there like he had a huge purpose. And he wanted to walk as close as he could to make me feel intimidated. I felt that, there's somebody there watching me.
And here I find out he's property manager. What he said was his, uh, his role. And you know, I wasn't, I was expecting to get chased off. [00:22:00] I wasn't chased off, but when we did leave, we don't know who, but somebody pulled out. My husband said, “We're being followed.”
Fearing for her safety, Rebecca decided to pull into a friend's driveway.
And I go, “Well, then we're not going home.” We pulled in. And then even from that time, we've gotten even more involved and more headstrong about it.
For many residents of Gaston County, the fires were a turning point. The burnt-down houses motivated them to learn more about Piedmont Lithium, to take a stand to defend their community. But organizing in a rural county, one in which many lack basic internet access, is proving difficult.
I wish we could get more commitment from the individual people.
Some people don't wanna come out public about it, cuz it might ruin their chances to get a payoff. There's that. Other [00:23:00] people don't wanna be bothered cuz they feel it's inevitable. I can't tell you how many people have told me that it's gonna happen. You can do what you want. We'll put up a sign, but it's gonna happen.
And I keep telling people, this is not a done deal. It can't be, and I'll fight it.
It's really hard.
Here's Tom again.
It's hard because it's not like there's a community association. It's a lot of, there's a lot of family members that won't talk to other family members now. I mean, like, there's a hatred between “you sold grandpa's land and I kept it and now I'm screwed,” or whatever.
It's really hard. But what we've done when we've had these public meetings, we've passed around sheets and collected emails and names and numbers. I've spent, you know, months putting together spreadsheets of everybody and then following up with them, sending them letters saying, “Hey, are you interested?”
It's just, it's hard to, to express how consuming the time is to do that. You can't do this till midnight every night and get up thinking about it every morning.
As Piedmont Lithium makes its presence felt in the community, residents cast doubt on the company's intentions. [00:24:00] Many locals wonder why Piedmont is buying so much land when the permit and zoning are not guaranteed. They question if the company is building its presence to sell stock.
There's nothing there. There's, there's no substance. They're, they're an investment company trying to make money, trying to buy up land to show that they're gonna make some money and who knows what is gonna happen to the land.
Locke agrees.
You've got some gigantic lithium deposits in America. This was the, what must have been, the biggest vein of hard rock, but that does not make it the biggest deposit of lithium. Then you've got Thacker Pass, Arkansas, you know, all of a sudden all these other places. So, 1,500 acres out here. Oh, come on, that's small. If I were trying to push my thing, I would wanna be bigger so I start buying land. I don't care whether it's got lithium on. “Look, we're expanding. We're expanding.”
Some of it probably has lithium, but a lot of it, you just make yourself big. We now have [00:25:00] 3,000 acres. We're a big dog, but it's just like, how much can you actually mine?
It's always been the way of American business. Make yourself look big and people, perception's reality.
Locke told us that Piedmont Lithium's chief geologist raised the possibility of the company not mining the site themselves, but selling the land package to investors.
The first time Lamont's out here. I said, “So you're, you're buying up the mineral rights?”
I dunno if y'all are old enough to know, but George H.W. Bush made his money buying up oil mineral rights in Texas. He goes out to Texas and he buys up the mineral rights and then the oil companies come along, dig the hole, boom. That's how he made his fortune. Um, you buy off the mineral rights, you have no intention of mining. And he admitted it. I said, “So who you selling to?” He told me this, sitting right where you're sitting,[00:26:00] “We've got somebody right now shopping it to the Sovereign Wealth Nations in the Mideast.”
Tom shares a similar concern.
The other thing that scares so many people, I think, is there's no, um, restrictions on who they could sell this to.
Lisa Stroup, a cattle rancher, has doubts about whether mining in the area is even possible. She says that the established mining companies passed on this area long ago.
The giants of the industry today have already searched and actively mined these areas. If they didn't touch it, we felt pretty sure nobody else would because, you know, they were the experts.
And I'm like, who is Piedmont Lithium? You know, what's, what's going on?
Who is Piedmont Lithium? That's next in Mining for the Climate.
[00:27:00] Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio, and it's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
For their support and expertise, we thank at Princeton, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, the Humanities Council, and the Office of the Dean of Research, as well as Kouvenda Media.
This episode of Mining for the Climate was written and hosted by Max Widmann and edited by Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio. Sound design was by Juan Manuel Rubio.
Our research and production team includes Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen, and Juan Manuel Rubio.
Music for this episode was by Purple Planet. Find it at purple-planet.com.
Additional music tracks are from Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows.
Mining for the Climate was made possible by funding from Blue Lab, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, and the Office of the Dean for Research at Princeton [00:28:00] University.
We would like to express our gratitude to the following people for their generosity and kindness. Amir Adaryani, H. L. Beam, Locke Bell, Ian Bigley, Rebecca Buck, Chad Brown, Brian Dalton, Wyatt Gjullin, Larry Neal, Monique Parker, Adam Parr, Thea Riofrancos, Erin Sanders, Lisa Stroup, Emily Winter, and Tom.
At Blue Lab, we especially thank the lab's director, Allison Carruth, along with Barron Bixler, Maggie Poost, Jayme Collins, Jessica Ng, and Mario Soriano.
At the High Meadows Environmental Institute, we thank Emily Ahmetaj, Stacey Christian, Kathy Hackett, Nathan Jessee, Ryan Juskus, Zack Kaado, Heidi Mihalik, [00:29:00] and Laura Matecha.
And at the Effron Center for the Study of America, we give special thanks to NicQuwesha Toliver.
Building a mine requires a substantial amount of land. This episode investigates the tactics used by Piedmont Lithium to accumulate a critical amount of land for its operations. We take listeners to visit burned-out houses and empty lots and to meet the neighbors who sold and those who remain.
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio. It’s a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
Episode Credits
- Written by Max Widmann
- Hosted by Max Widmann
- Sound design by Juan Manuel Rubio
- Research and production team: Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Music by Purple Planet, Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows
- Shady Grove by Shake That Little Foot is licensed under a Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 International License
Audio Clip Credits
- Senator Thom Tillis at Piedmont Lithium HQ Open House, Piedmont Lithium, 2022
- Gaston County Board of Commissioners October 24, 2023 Meeting, Gaston County Government, 2023
Piedmont Lithium, in coordination with local fire departments, burns many of the homes that it purchases. Residents feel that the house burnings are intimidating. Video provided by Rebecca Buck of Flint Ridge Ranch.
Fire department officials distributed these materials to residents prior to burning a house. Some residents questioned why government employees were passing around promotional flyers for Piedmont Lithium. Photos by Max Widmann.
Fire department officials distributed these materials to residents prior to burning a house. Some residents questioned why government employees were passing around promotional flyers for Piedmont Lithium. Photos by Max Widmann.
One of the many houses that Piedmont Lithium has burned in the area surrounding its Carolina Lithium mine. Photo by Alex Norbrook.
Episode 3: The Body of the Mine
Mining for the Climate Episode 3: "The Body of the Mine”
Full Transcript
[00:00:00] You're listening to Mining for the Climate. This is Alex.
Mines are like living organisms. They require a living space.
They need to consume certain things to survive, like chemicals, energy, water. As their metabolism ramps up, mines crush rock, absorb desired elements from it, and discard their waste in piles of boulders and streams of cloudy water. Thinking about a mine in this way brings order to its many processes.
But the shape and nature of this metabolism is not always evident. As the history of mining teaches us, mining companies tend to keep some aspects of their operations out of sight. In response, those who resist these operations work to uncover the actual shape of the mine, and its impact.
Throughout this struggle, the contours of each mine are constantly redrawn. [00:01:00] So in this episode, we pay attention to the power inherent in the act of obscuring, and in the act of revealing.
This is Mining for the Climate, episode three.
It's a hot June day. We're driving to Piedmont Lithium's outpost along the winding Dallas Cherryville highway, passing sign after sign declaring "Stop Gaston County Pit Mine.”
We pull into the gravel lot outside a one-story warehouse with Piedmont Lithium's logo on a sign outside. An employee beckons us in. Inside an air-conditioned room filled with boxes of rocks and presentation slides on easels, we introduce ourselves to three Piedmont employees who we'll sit down with for the next two hours to talk about the mine.
Yeah, so Piedmont Lithium started back in 2016 by our now chief geologist Lamont Leatherman who grew up just a few miles north of here in Lincoln County…
When we [00:02:00] speak with these representatives, our first question is about the impact of the mining pits, the places where Piedmont would blast and move rock.
As I was mentioning before, about 25% of the acreage is mining. So these are the four pits that we plan to have and we will mine them south, east, west, and north and so that's where mining activity is slated to happen. We will convey material from the mines to the concentrator plant and then also take it to this area here which is what we call our waste rock pile. So that's just after we've blasted and gotten the spodumene-hosted rock we're going to send any of the waste rock here to be stored.
The open pits are the most visible parts of the mine, where many of its processes start. They are, in a sense, the mouth of the mine. Let's begin here.
Part 1: The Mine's Mouth
Piedmont Lithium plans to build an open pit mine. Think a ribbon-like circuit that spirals down into the earth, heavy haul trucks that [00:03:00] rumble around the site, and timed explosives that rip apart tons of solid rock, tearing the earthen cavity even wider. In Piedmont Lithium's case, this is the mechanism that would bring the raw spodumene, the lithium bearing rock, up for processing.
When we ask about what noise, light, or dust impacts the mine might have to nearby residents, Piedmont representatives describe a clean, almost invisible mine that's isolated from its neighbors.
Juan prompts Monique Parker, Piedmont's Senior Vice President of Safety, Environment, and Health, to talk about the issue.
Obviously, there's population around. There are neighbors. If they really want to stay in their farms, in their houses, what, what kind of options do they have?
For all intents and purposes, if there’s a neighbor outside of our mine permit boundary, they can stay in their home. Our activities don’t change the livelihoods of those around them in a negative way in that regard. There’s very little things that would prevent them from being able to stay on their properties if they’re outside our mine permit boundaries.
[00:04:00] You can understand how their, perspective on the land will change, right? More light pollution, potentially dust, changes in the landscape for sure, perhaps fences going up…
Well here’s the thing, although those things may be true cuz we are gonna have fences around our property and those types of things, but we’re also gonna have trees. So this area is rich in trees and other natural resources so we’re gonna have various berms and other protections where the reality of it is, they may never know we’re there.
Erin and I, our children went to a middle school. There was a mine right across the street from them. I didn't know it, and so I really didn't, but at one point I was driving by and it was winter.
That's Erin Saunders, Senior Vice President of Corporate Communications and Investor Relations,
I kind of glimpsed something between trees. And I went home and pulled up the map. [00:05:00] And apparently for 17 years, I've been living less than two miles from a giant quarry. I, I had no idea. And I don't, I don't think people realize that if you can't see it, you can't smell it, you can't hear it. And there are the trees and the berms and, and everything.
To Erin Sanders, the quarry next to the school was almost invisible. Piedmont reckons their mine will have a similar visibility.
As we’re mining, there obviously is a potential for dust to be generated and created. We will be using water suppression to minimize and control dust as our dust control suppression system.
The same, Monique says, holds true for the chemical processing plants which convert spodumene into lithium.
So we have a ton of dust collectors around our chemical process where those dusts will be captured, and then we have an air permit that minimize what we can emit. So all of those are captured with our dust control systems. We have wet scrubbers that will all manage the dusts that come from our process.
[00:06:00] Erin also describes their conveyor belt system, which will transport blasted rock from the pits to the concentrator plant.
We're also going to invest millions of dollars in an enclosed, uh, conveyor belt system. As you probably know, trucks are what can kick up dust, you know? So to minimize the number of trucks, we're going to use that conveyor system.
It also helps on noise, as well. You’re not having haul trucks going around on public roads. We can have electric conveyor belt systems going through our property.
That's Emily Winter, Exploration Geologist and Community Relations Specialist.
So, forest buffers, electric conveyors to haul blasted ore, and dust suppression systems. These are the strategies that Piedmont says will make their mine near invisible.
But Lisa Stroup, a cattle rancher and former mine employee living close to Piedmont's property, has a different projection. On the wide porch [00:07:00] which wraps around her house on the ranch, I ask,
They told us that, you wouldn't be able to tell it’s there.
Really?
She seemed, almost, at a loss for words.
Okay, just look this way. You see all these trees? There is a hill, right? A natural hill full of trees. It is a humongous forested area. That's almost two acres between us and the mine.
That's the stone quarry managed by Martin Marietta.
And this entire property, our home, our trees, even back up here was coated in dust. I don't buy it. I don't buy it. I don't see how they can do that when the industry leaders can't.
Lisa is suggesting that if Martin Marietta, an experienced mining company, couldn't fully control their dust, how could Piedmont, as a new mining company, claim to be able to control it so well?
And you know, we saw how hard they worked to try. It wasn't that they were just [00:08:00] not trying, they were pumping thousands of gallons of water spraying down this ore as they're extracting it and hauling it, doing the best they really could to minimize it. I hate to think what it would've looked like if they hadn't, but there was still dust. There was still noise, you know, even after they stopped blasting and they were just hauling the aggregate from the mine.
I was working third shift inside my home. All the windows closed. All the doors closed. I can hear their mine trucks, I can hear their conveyor belt and the be end and the, you know, when they dumped the load, the crash of the boom when it landed back down, I could not sleep. It was absolute torture.
Lisa lives less than a mile away from the Martin Marietta quarry. At the time of writing, the closest house to Piedmont's site is just 318 feet away.
The former miner we spoke with last episode, who requested anonymity, actually [00:09:00] worked at the Hallman Beam lithium mine, which became Martin Marietta's quarry. When Piedmont arrived in town, he realized he was living next to their purchased land and decided to sell his house after realizing what this proximity would mean.
They had bought every place around me.
You know, you can't live around in the noise. Hm. You know? You know what I'm saying? Just can't. I know. I used to work in that one right over there when I was 18 years old.
It's true that dust suppression systems do work to minimize the amount of dust kicked up by mining operations. It's also true that many mines aren't noticeable to someone driving by them. We don't know what Piedmont's mine will look or sound like.
What we do know is that residents of the area are struggling to find out, and their homes and livelihoods are on the line.
Part Two: The Stomach
Piedmont proposes to build two processing plants to extract the lithium from its surrounding rock, and then convert it into a battery grade [00:10:00] material. As with dust and noise, Piedmont also stresses how this process would be as clean as possible. They suggest it will be a departure from the older model of dirty, chemical intensive, and polluting mines.
Here's Monique:
I will talk about some of the historical means of getting to this final product. Traditionally, producing lithium hydroxide has been used with a sulfuric acid leaching process, and so that’s the traditional means which creates toxic waste, it’s hazardous to work around.
Most hard rock lithium mines still use acid leaching, which dissolves out the lithium from the rest of the rock to collect it into a usable product. Leaks and drainage from these acid processing activities have damaged surrounding environments. So instead, Piedmont intends to move to a different process altogether.
The technologies that we’re looking to use actually uses steam. We will do the transition from spodumene to lithium carbonate using pressure.
Monique is referring to Piedmont Lithium's [00:11:00] use of the Metso Ototec conversion process. This process uses soda ash and other alkalines, along with pressure, to leach out the lithium and convert it into battery-grade lithium hydroxide. It employs alkalines instead of sulfuric acid.
So these are some of the things that we’re doing, and we’ve taken these approaches to have a more sustainable operation. Obviously, we want to minimize how much toxic waste we’re generating. We want to make sure the operations are safe for those that have to work around it.
In fact, the CEO of Piedmont claims that this process helps...
to make our operations the world's most sustainable lithium project. We've shifted our chemical plant process to be entirely sulfate and acid free. That makes it better for us. It makes it better for the neighborhood and everyone else, and from an emissions perspective, it's far superior.
This all sounds pretty compelling. A clean and safe chemical system. But in their narrative of cleanliness, what does Piedmont emphasize, and what do they downplay?
If you ask Lisa Stroup, she [00:12:00] sees elements of concealment, having already done research into Piedmont's original 2021 mine permit application.
You read in the report, there's gonna be tanks of sulfuric acid and diesel fuel and whatnot at this concentrate plant.
They told us that they were not going to use the sulfuric acid.
Well, they either lied to you or they lied in their permit application because it is in the permit application. And this is another misleading thing that Piedmont has a tendency to do.
Let's pause for a moment. If you look at the section of the mining permit that Lisa's talking about, you see that Piedmont writes that they'll store, among other things, some frothers and floculents and, sure enough, “sulfuric acid.”
It's right there. Piedmont also lists some other reagents used in the concentrator plant, which is the plant that removes some of the excess rock around the lithium. They list hydrofluoric acid and kerosene. [00:13:00] Curiously enough, in the reagents for the lithium hydroxide conversion plant, which is the plant that actually converts the lithium ore into battery grade lithium hydroxide, the permit lists both sulfuric acid and hydrochloric acid.
So how could we hear from Piedmont that there was no sulfuric acid, even though the application includes it?
They were talking about the hazardous toxic chemicals that would be on site and would be utilized for the concentrate mine operation, not the conversion, but the concentrate mine area. They're only taking you to the end and saying, no, we're not using acid. Okay, so go back and look at the, the mine permit applications specific for the concentrate mine process.
Let's clarify this. Lisa draws a distinction between the concentrator process, which collects the lithium, and the conversion process, which turns it into usable lithium hydroxide. She says that Piedmont claims their [00:14:00] conversion process doesn't use sulfuric acid, and that they use it in their concentrator process without much advertisement.
In our conversation with Piedmont, too, we hear them talk about their new conversion process, and we don't hear them mention the other processes involved in concentration.
Here's Monique:
Because, again, we’re not using sulfuric acid. We’re using pressure leaching and so the natural pH is very different than a normal, traditional wastewater that you get for traditional lithium hydroxide conversion.
“Lithium hydroxide conversion.” She draws attention to this conversion process without bringing up the concentrator.
A more recent document, from June 2022, nuances this distinction when giving another description of Piedmont's chemical processes. Here, most of the chemicals in the concentrator process are consistent with the initial 2021 mining application, except that Piedmont doesn't list sulfuric acid among them like they did in 2021. [00:15:00] It's the same story with the conversion plant. No sulfuric acid.
That's because they list a third chemical sub-process that we didn't hear about in our conversation with Piedmont: a separate “byproducts production" process. This part takes some feed from the main concentrator process and extracts feldspar and quartz to then sell. It's here where Piedmont lists the sulfuric acid, and the hydrofluoric acid, and the kerosene.
In a later email from September 2023, Piedmont gave another answer, that, “Some sulfuric acid may potentially be used for cleaning purposes in the on-site wastewater treatment and the crystallizers.” A summary of that correspondence is available on the Mining for the Climate webpage at https://bluelab.princeton.edu.
So, is the chemical process of this mine really cleaner than other mines? Probably, in many respects. The METSO technique does have potential, and it likely would mean the elimination of a lot of sulfuric acid.
[00:16:00] But, we found the discrepancy between the first descriptions that Piedmont gave us about their chemical process, and their mining documents and later comments would show different mechanisms, particularly telling.
How does this choice of framing contribute to the image that Piedmont's mine is cleaner than the rest? Is their plan as simple or as clean as they tell people publicly? Is it as clean as what people demand from the energy transition?
Part 3: The Blood of the Mine
Most mines use water to extract minerals and wash away unwanted particles. Piedmont will use a considerable amount of water in these processes, but before the company uses the water for mining and refining, they need to address a more immediate challenge.
As machinery digs ever deeper into the mine's four open pits, it will quickly encounter rock below the water [00:17:00] table, meaning rock that is saturated with water. To prevent its pits from flooding with this water, Piedmont will suck it out, at 2,125 gallons per minute.
The issue is Piedmont's mine would not be the only place drawing water from the ground. Most nearby residents use well water because there isn't a municipal water system in the area. Could Piedmont deplete these residents' wells? And how does that affect the image of the clean mine that Piedmont projects?
Here's Monique again:
There will be minor impacts to the water table and the immediate areas we know for sure. How far those expand are what the studies will tell us. But if you think about water table, and I’m sure you all are knowledgeable and understand this, but a water table is not like a bathtub where you put a plug in and it’s all gonna drain out. With the geology that we have, there are fractures and seams and different ways that water moves within rock. Once we open one area, it doesn’t necessarily impact the full groundwater level or table in a certain region. It is very much based on the geology underneath the ground. And so our studies will help us understand that better.
[00:18:00] In Gaston County, the bedrock is highly impermeable, meaning water only flows through bedrock in minuscule fissures and cracks.
Monique's assessment of the impact to the surrounding area follows from a couple of Piedmont studies conducted on possible groundwater depletion.
Some of these studies didn't go exactly as planned, as some of their permit application documents show. In one study in which Piedmont tested maximum potential for pumping water out of the ground, the test pump they installed didn't have enough power to sustain a full test. Heavy rainfall in addition to Hurricane Michael shortened that study and prevented Piedmont from installing a new pump, which cut the data gathering process short.
Regardless, the study found that beyond the mine site, predicted depletion of nearby wells from their mining activity would average 6 feet, with a minimum of 0 feet and a [00:19:00] maximum of 39 and a half feet. To try to mitigate this potential impact, Piedmont came up with a plan.
Here's Monique:
So I’ll address the impact to neighbors first. So one of the things that we had to do was create a well mitigation plan. So if we impact a neighbor, what are we gonna do? We’ve offered three solutions. One, we’ll dig ‘em a deeper well. Two, we will connect them to municipal water. And our third — is kind of our intermediate is — we’ll make sure they have water during a period in which we’re getting them the one of the options we have, whether that’s through various means that makes it available and easy for them to obtain. That’s our mitigation plan in those impacts.
To the governing bodies that are overseeing Piedmont's permit application, this might sound reasonable, but following their previous interactions with Piedmont, residents we spoke with aren't reassured. When we talk with Tom about possible water depletion before we sit down with Lisa, he actually calls her up to show us her read on the situation. [00:20:00]
She seemed skeptical.
Piedmont's solution to that is they will hire an outside representative and if they can prove that Piedmont did the damage, then they may either bring in bottled water…
On their mining permit, Piedmont offered to supply water tanks to affected households.
Or they may dig a new well. Well that's really fruitless. If the groundwater is contaminated, what good is a new well?
Lisa's referring to water contamination. Groundwater level isn't connected to water contamination. So this is a separate issue that we'll come back to later. Anyway, Tom says to Lisa:
You remember the two other options that they provide as solutions?
Third one was they would connect you to municipal water.
Then, Tom prompted one final option, which Piedmont didn't bring up to us.
And the nuclear option is if all else fails in good faith… Oh. Or they would purchase the property, which would be worthless if you have no access to water. [00:21:00] Which is their end goal because you know, so many property owners don't want to relocate and don't want to sell like us, we're a beef cattle operation. We have over 200 head of cattle.
We also have grain and food and fiber crops that we plant. It's more than just our house that's here. It's our business, it's our livelihood. And where are we gonna find another 400 acres to farm?
Piedmont's water mitigation plan could reduce the severity of the possible impact to residents' water supply. However, these residents are angry that Piedmont suggested these solutions without consultation, and that the solutions they present don't reflect residents' lifestyles or protect their dignity.
Part Four: Keeping the Pulse
It's not always clear how a mine's body works, so systems must be kept in place to monitor its functioning.
A question [00:22:00] crucial to environmental justice is, who does the monitoring? Who keeps the data? And what are the consequences if something goes wrong?
Piedmont plans to install monitoring systems in nearby rivers to detect any impact to water quality or quantity. The company would then be in charge of reporting any potential issues.
We’re gonna have monitoring wells around our property, so the reality of it is we will know before a neighbor knows primarily that there will be an impact cuz we’ll be measuring the levels of that water continuously to understand if there’s any impacts on our property boundary before it leaves our property. So there will be continuous monitoring of all water — on property, off property — as we go through our process to ensure that there’s no contamination of water in sources.
If Piedmont monitors effectively, it would help protect nearby residents and their drinking water. But Lisa's not convinced that this would be the case. Here's her in our conversation with Tom.
It's my [00:23:00] understanding that the way it is set up now, the biggest portion of control the state has, and the biggest, you know, argument that we will have is in this pre-permit phase. Once they, sign off on the approved list of okay, you've agreed to these terms, it is then up to Piedmont to, create the samples and generate a report. However, it is purely Piedmont's word. From my understanding, unless there is a violation of some sort, the state themselves do not test those parameters.
Lisa isn't the only one looking into Piedmont's monitoring system.
They're gonna tattle on [00:24:00] themselves. Right.
That's Locke Bell, one of the residents we spoke with last episode.
Hey professor, can I grade my own paper and just turn in what I made? Hey, if I could have done that, I probably would've done better in school. Yeah.
Locke was looking through the monitoring plan in Piedmont's mining permit and saw something that gave him pause.
In their application with the mining commission, it says that they'll have retaining ponds.
Piedmont would hold much of the water they pump out of their pits in a series of retaining ponds scattered around the mine.
So Piedmont will monitor their ponds. Okay? We don't need EPA. DuPont monitor what you're releasing. Duke Energy, which had the big coal. I don't know if you know about the coal ash. Y'all monitor yourselves. Exxon Mobil. Y'all, y'all, y'all monitor and report back.
Oh, all you people fracking. [00:25:00] We trust you to let us know.
But that's what they've got here is that Piedmont — on the toxicity, on the pollution, on everything — will monitor themselves and either do quarterly or annual reports. But you see what I'm saying? You would never ever anybody do that.
Piedmont says that they'll monitor their tailing pond pH and depth monthly, not quarterly or annually. But not even the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality, or DEQ, is satisfied with that. In May 2023, DEQ, who is overseeing Piedmont's application process, asked why only pH will be tested, and why monthly testing instead of continuous monitoring is sufficient.
Responding to this concern in an email from September 2023, Piedmont stated that they will be, “evaluating other parameters that are tested for similar operations, and [00:26:00] will be providing an updated monitoring plan in our response.”
In the event that a well becomes contaminated from mine operations, Locke and Lisa are skeptical that Piedmont would let people know. And Lisa isn't sure how residents could verify Piedmont's monitoring or hold them accountable for water quality issues, especially given her community's remoteness.
So let's just say we have water, but they've contaminated it. No one tests the well water. It's up to each owner to test the well. And it can cost several hundred dollars every time you do and take several months for you to get the results.
You're paying for the testing. You're waiting for the analysis. That goes with any industry. It's not just this mine, it is a self-report.
Piedmont emphasized in their September 2023 email that, in the event of a contamination issue, they have, "highly experienced mining, engineering, and safety, health, and [00:27:00] environment professionals" on their team, and "a couple of hundred of the top consultants in these fields" to manage the project responsibly and sustainably.
Piedmont says, don't worry. Trust us. America has the tightest environmental restrictions of any country, you know. Trust us. But trust is very different than verify. We're trying to verify. We want truthful answers. We want them to treat people fairly and then be a good neighbor.
Trust versus verify. Piedmont asks its neighbors to trust their monitoring, but residents feel they have little room to verify Piedmont's data to hold them to account. Piedmont, to them, controls the knowledge of any potential well disturbances, and they imagine the company plans to keep it that way.
Part 5: The Waste
Mines produce waste. A lot of it. In Piedmont's case, once the mine blasts [00:28:00] and hauls rock, once it dissolves and leaches its ore with a cocktail of chemicals, it's left with thousands of tons and hundreds of gallons of waste. In an area with sensitive streams, the safety of the mine's wastewater is a particular concern. Here's how Piedmont plans to manage this wastewater.
When it comes to water from our processes, our chemical plant, all of our processed water that comes from that chemical plant will be sent to a wastewater treatment facility. So there’s not this let’s sit it in a pond and let go to the streams. It will be capture, pre-treated on site, and then sent to the municipal. At our concentrator plant, all of our processed water from the concentrator plant will go through the same process.
Monique is talking about sending pre-treated wastewater from the mine to the Long Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant in Gastonia, a few miles away. And as for the water which flows into the mine pits, either from seams in the rock or [00:29:00] from rain, this water would be pumped into the sedimentation retaining ponds that Locke mentioned.
We will house the water there. We will do testing, understand the quality of it, and then we will either treat it and then release it, or we will release it based on what our permits allow.
Piedmont would release the water from the sedimentation ponds into adjacent streams, not to the wastewater plant, based on their water permits. Here's Juan revisiting Piedmont's agreement with the Long Creek Municipal Treatment Plant.
And has the municipal treatment plant, do they have the capacity to deal with it?
So we’re working with them already. One of the things that we have to have in order to secure our mine permit is the local municipality has to agree that they can take our quantity and our load. They’ve agreed that they can take our quantity and load.
Do you have an estimate of what the quantity is going to be?
We’ve given them an estimate of our quantity of our water and the anticipated load that will go to them and that’s been provided to them and it’s also been in our mine application, our mine permit.
[00:30:00] We noticed that Monique didn't tell us what this quantity of water is, or the anticipated load, in our meeting. She pointed us to the mining permit instead.
We didn't think of it too much in the moment, because if the treatment plant has agreed to take that load, and if they're pre-treating the water to make it safer as it travels to the plant, what could be the issue?
But Lisa and Locke seemed to think differently based on their research.
They have a letter that they have sent to the mining commission, cause I've read it, that says we have talked to the, I wanna say Long Creek or Catawba Creek, one of the treatment plants…
Piedmont's documents identified the South Fork Catawba as the ideal river to carry its wastewater to Long Creek.
And they have said that they can handle 0.284 million gallons a day.
Piedmont put this as their peak wastewater flow on their mining documents.
[00:31:00] Therefore, mining commission, you need to accept this as we have outflow. It's eight miles away. When they did the original application, it said all the water will be dumped into municipal outflow. That's eight miles away.
Let’s be nice to 'em — six if you cut through the country. They don't have any right of ways to do it. So they have a letter and they submitted it saying, “Here's an agreement. Accept this as our having handled the issue of the disposal of the water.”
Locke reacts to their plan in such a way because, so far, Piedmont has not published a full plan of how it will transport its water from the mine pits all the way to the treatment plant.
And where Locke saw an attempt to gloss over the logistics of transporting water that far away, Lisa saw environmental danger inherent in the position to pump it into the South Fork Catawba River.
[00:32:00] These freshwater streams that our children play in, that wildlife drinks from, they're here for everyone's enjoyment, but they could flush it down the streams, processing an affluent channel in the stream, the six miles to the uptake, or eight miles, however, whatever the distance is to the uptake…
Piedmont proposes to release its wastewater into the river and have a treatment plant downstream take it up and process it. That would happen at one of the Long Creek's locations, either in High Shoals, a town a few miles north of Gastonia, or at Apple Creek Business Industrial Park, on the northern edge of Gastonia.
So in the meantime, you have this influx of pretty much wastewater with caustic, toxic constituents floating down our streams. It's coming right through our property, through our fields. It's accumulating.
You have the former mine and you know, they've [00:33:00] had spills and leaks and you know, things that happen. There's no mine site that is 100% perfect. There are always things that happen for different reasons. You know, it happens in every industry. Something breaks, something leaks. The difference is when it leaks outside in the soil and into the ground, it's in your water now. How do you clean that up?
Lisa's characterization of the toxic chemicals is extreme, especially since Monique specifically told us that their wastewater wouldn't have any hazardous materials, and that they're taking a lot of precautions to pre-treat the water to ensure it's safe. So what could allow Lisa to make these claims?
Well, as we began to look into Piedmont's permit application, the reason for her alarm came into focus. Because as the North Carolina DEQ has pointed [00:34:00] out, Piedmont hasn't actually provided the specific load characteristics of their wastewater, and they haven't disclosed specifically how they're pre-treating that water.
Let me take a moment to explain. In their correspondences with Monique and others, the DEQ has repeatedly requested for Piedmont to give them more detail about their plans. I'll save you the long story about the many exchanges between state agencies and Piedmont about the wastewater plan. But in a nutshell, these agencies ask Piedmont about the characteristics of their wastewater that Piedmont will send to the local wastewater treatment plant. And Piedmont's answers don't satisfy them.
At one point, DEQ asks for clarification on the specific liquid waste Piedmont will discharge. They ask this because Piedmont has only said that they will tailor their wastewater profile to meet the requirements set out by the treatment plant. But because the plant hasn't released these requirements, Piedmont hasn't actually [00:35:00] finalized what their liquid waste will be.
So, two years after their initial request, Piedmont has not given DEQ a detailed answer about what exactly they would pump into the river to send to the treatment plant. and they also haven't given a clear answer on how they'll get the water to the treatment plant. Those improvements will have to be determined by Two Rivers, not Piedmont Lithium.
Which means that no one can say with certainty exactly what Piedmont will be pumping into the water, and exactly how that water will travel to the treatment plant. Even so, an assistant state mining engineer at North Carolina's DEQ, who's overseeing Piedmont's application, expects this issue to be resolved in the next round of comments.
But in the meantime, here's what we know. First, given the information shared by Piedmont, it's impossible to prove Lisa is entirely correct about her concerns with the toxics in the wastewater. Second, as long as Piedmont has not [00:36:00] provided enough evidence to residents, or even to the Department of Environmental Quality, no one can definitively prove that she's wrong.
This lack of clarity about Piedmont's wastewater, even if resolved soon, creates an uncertain knowledge environment that allows Lisa to question the project's cleanliness.
But this lack of clarity might also have another result.
From our conversations with Piedmont, we wondered if they used this up in the air plan to support the opposite opinion, that their process will be cleaner.
When all their information remains hypothetical, does that allow them to smooth over hard questions about their waste?
Even with the dearth of information that she feels Piedmont has provided, and perhaps because of it, Lisa continues to call out what she sees as Piedmont's behind-the-scene discrepancies. She uses her fire to light up the information that she sees [00:37:00] Piedmont keeping in the dark.
So that's kind of become my mission to point that out and to say, well, look, in this permit they're saying X, Y, Z, but on their website to their you know, potential stock owners, they're saying this. Which one is it, and how does that change the permit?
Mines have always tried to remain hidden from sight. What can look like a simple tunnel at the surface, or a break in the rolling hills, can actually lead to a labyrinth of passages, chambers, and twisted stairways leading deep underground.
There is power in the act of hiding, and the act of unearthing, the body of a mine.
But does the idea of a mine move beyond its physical borders and environmental impacts? Could we extend its influence to people's dreams and aspirations for the future?
That's next, in Mining for the Climate.
[00:38:00] Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio, and it's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
For their support and expertise, we thank at Princeton, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, the Humanities Council, and the Office of the Dean of Research, as well as Kouvenda Media.
This episode of Mining for the Climate was written by Alex Norbrook and Juan Manuel Rubio, and it was hosted by Alex Norbrook.
Sound design was by Juan Manuel Rubio.
Our research and production team includes Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen, and Juan Manuel Rubio.
Music for this episode was by Purple Planet. Find it at purple-planet.com.
Additional music tracks are from Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows.
Mining for the Climate was made possible by funding from Blue Lab, the High Meadows Environmental [00:39:00] Institute, and the Office of the Dean for Research at Princeton University.
We would like to express our gratitude to the following people for their generosity and kindness. Amir Adaryani, H. L. Beam, Locke Bell, Ian Bigley, Rebecca Buck, Chad Brown, Brian Dalton, Wyatt Gjullin, Larry Neal, Monique Parker, Adam Parr, Thea Riofrancos, Erin Sanders, Lisa Stroupe, Emily Winter, and Tom.
At Blue Lab, we especially thank the lab's director, Allison Carruth, along with Barron Bixler, Maggie Poost, Jayme Collins, Jessica Ng, and Mario Soriano.
At the High Meadows Environmental Institute, we thank Emily Ahmetaj, Stacey Christian, Kathy Hackett, Nathan Jessee, Ryan Juskus, Zack Kaado, Heidi Mihalik, and [00:40:00] Laura Matecha.
And at the Effron Center for the Study of America, we give special thanks to NicQuwesha Toliver.
Like a body, a mine has its own metabolism. It consumes water, trees and energy, and it releases chemicals, carbon and wastewater. These metabolic processes are supposed to be hidden: few want to see, hear, smell or taste a mine in operation. Unearthing the body of the mine, we ask how Piedmont Lithium highlights certain aspects of the mine’s processes while directing attention away from others.
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio. It's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
Episode Credits
- Written by Alex Norbrook and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Hosted by Alex Norbrook
- Sound design by Juan Manuel Rubio
- Research and production team: Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Music by Purple Planet, Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows
- Shady Grove by Shake That Little Foot is licensed under a Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 International License
Audio Clip Credits
- Gaston County Board of Commissioners July 20, 2021, Gaston County Government, 2021
Supplementary Materials & Resources
These documents and materials supplement the information presented in Episode 3.
Key Documents
- Synopsis of Provided Responses from Piedmont Lithium
- Appendix F: Waste Flowsheet
- Appendix H: Two Rivers Utilities Letter
- North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality Response to Piedmont, May 30, 2023
Other Materials & Resources
- Piedmont Lithium, Technical Memorandum: Aquifer Test, January 25, 2019
- Piedmont Lithium, Technical Memorandum: Groundwater Model, July 2, 2019
- Piedmont Lithium, North Carolina Mining Permit Application, Appendix F: Technical Memorandum - Water Quality Testing, March 19, 2020
- North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality Correspondence, January 14, 2021
- Piedmont Lithium, North Carolina Mining Permit Application, August 30, 2021
- Piedmont Lithium, North Carolina Mining Permit Application, Appendix K: Technical Memorandum - Evaluation of Mine Pit Operations on Water Quality, August 30, 2021
- Piedmont Lithium, Appendix D: Supporting Concentrate Operations Documentation, August 2021
- North Carolina Wildlife Resources Commission Correspondence, October 5, 2021
- North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality Correspondence, October 29, 2021
- Piedmont Lithium, Appendix C: Water Supply Well Mitigation Plan, December 2, 2021
- Piedmont Lithium, Response to DEMLR Additional Information Request, Appendix C, January 14, 2022
- Piedmont Lithium, Response to DEMLR Additional Information Request, Appendix C - Technical Memorandum, January 14, 2022
- Piedmont Lithium, Response to DEMLR Additional Information Request, Appendix F, January 14, 2022
- Piedmont Lithium, Response to DEMLR Additional Information Request, Appendix H, January 14, 2022
- North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality Correspondence, May 30, 2023
- Gaston County, Comments on Carolina Lithium Project by MRO Staff
Lisa Stroup looks out over her property. Lisa’s property lies near Piedmont’s proposed mine location. She worries that the mine’s activities will damage its surroundings, including her ranch. Photo by Grace Wang.
Piedmont’s field office displays rocks and minerals at various stages of processing. The office does not depict the reactions involved in those processing stages. Photo by Grace Wang.
Piedmont Lithium employees show visitors their demonstration station, tucked behind a line of trees. Much of this landscape may be scarred by the mine if it begins operations. Photo by Grace Wang.
Chunks of moss-covered raw spodumene erupt from the ground. Piedmont Lithium hopes to use intensive mechanical and chemical processes to extract lithium from the rock and strip away everything else. The company claims to use safe and sustainable chemical processes, but residents have concerns about the details of their operations. Photo by Juan Manuel Rubio.
Episode 4: A Tale of Two Ranchers
Mining for the Climate Episode 4: “A Tale of Two Ranchers”
Full Transcript
[00:00:00] She's what's called a Stonewall Sport horse, and you see the fineness in her build. Yeah. Rather than how O was chunky, and Sugar — that's this one over here…
Today, we're at the ranch. Rebecca's horse ranch, and Lisa's cattle ranch.
She's the mama of the little Colt, black colt that's inside. We have a little boy.
Rebecca and Lisa are two residents of Gaston County whose livelihoods and futures are threatened by the mine. We visit them on a Saturday, driving first to Lisa's, then to Rebecca's a few hours later. We tour their land and meet the animals, Rebecca's horses and Lisa's cows.
Like in the heat of the day, they will go under the trees and you know, that's why we leave trees in the field. They're wind breaks and they're also shade. For, for the cows...
We talk about their [00:01:00] work resisting the mine that Piedmont Lithium wants to build right by their homes. Rebecca is helping to organize community opposition, and Lisa is providing knowledge that forms the backbone of their resistance. We ask them what this work means to them, and why they are pursuing it.
Yeah. Did she lick it? She just did a little… nibble. Oh my gosh.
This is episode four of Mining for the Climate. I'm your host, Grace. Today, I'll discuss how the idea of the mine is disrupting the futures that Lisa and Rebecca imagine for themselves, and how they are choosing to respond.
We pull into Rebecca's driveway next to a small pasture where, O, a black-and-white spotted stallion, is prancing.
Rebecca greets us with [00:02:00] her German Shepherd, Duke, tagging along.
We chatted in her driveway before settling at a picnic table near the horse barns.
I'm Rebecca Buck and I'm a resident of Mooney Road right around the corner from where Piedmont Lithium is proposing to close down the roads and build an open pit mine. We have a horse operation and a retreat. This is called Flint Ridge Ranch.
Rebecca moved to Gaston County in 2011 with plans to start a horse ranch. Her and her husband started bringing horses over and breeding them. Now, they raise 10 horses.
Rebecca describes herself as a person who has lived many lives. In her first life, she worked in commercial art and design. In another life, she was a competitive martial artist. And in another, [00:03:00] she helped bring water to rural Ohio. Now, she's a computer technician and a horse breeder.
Rebecca, in her own words, is multifaceted, and you only need to look inside her truck to know it's true. Horse saddles, computer parts, and martial arts swords are sprawled across the backseat.
At Flint Ridge, Rebecca is planning a horse retreat program where people can be in nature, interact with horses, and practice martial arts like tai chi. This was a dream she had been working toward for a while.
We've been building our dream here and was hoping to expand it, but since 2016, our lives have been in limbo because that's when Piedmont Lithium swooped in and started creating havoc out here.
As we talk to Rebecca, we begin to understand that she's not going to let her dream go.
Lay down. Come here. I know. Lay [00:04:00] down. But you're hot. He's all excited. He's, we've been out in the field, so he's, he's ready to go. He's like, why are we stopping?
When we visit Lisa's ranch, we are once again greeted by dogs as soon as we step out of the car. Lisa has three, and they follow us through her wraparound porch, where we sit overlooking the fields and woods.
Lisa is a cattle rancher, but in one of her past lives, she worked in the quality control lab for FMC, formerly known as Lithium Corporation of America.
The very first two weeks I worked for that company, I was told, you know, you read these manuals. This is all about safety. And it was drilled into me the hazards of working with such a caustic, volatile element. They never once tried to sugarcoat that and say, “Oh, you're perfectly fine.”
Lisa's commitment to safety from working in quality control remains with her today. [00:05:00] One of her core concerns with mining companies is their ability to run safe operations. This fear extends to Piedmont Lithium.
I'm kind of getting that the stance Piedmont Lithium is taking is that this is perfectly safe, it's 100% safe. And I'm like, absolutely not. Absolutely not.
Now, Lisa works on the ranch with her husband, a third-generation farmer. They have 250 head of cattle.
It is hard, hot, very low paying work. You absolutely have to love it and have to love to serve people.
Lisa tells us that even though most Americans don't know where their food comes from, farmers like herself continue to feed them anyway. She explains that their job is ultimately about providing for others, whether they receive appreciation for [00:06:00] it or not.
We do feed the rest of the world. it's not just one group of farmers. It's not just one state of farmers. It's all farmers together collectively.
Now, with the possibility of the Carolina Lithium Mine, Lisa worries that her livelihood will be threatened. She believes that the agricultural landscape will be changed forever, making farmers especially vulnerable.
This area of the county is mainly agricultural. A good portion of what they have under their control are agricultural fields. So you will never get that food supply back.
Along with the precarity that Lisa feels regarding her future, she also has a profound sense of abandonment. Lisa explains that where she lives, phone signals are poor and internet access is limited. She says she can't rely on emergency responders to come [00:07:00] promptly when called, and she has little faith in the local government to represent her. We ask Lisa how she feels about the governing bodies involved in determining the fate of the mine.
I would love to have faith in those commissions. I really would. But no, I do not. And the reason I do not is because of the history where they have made decisions that have shown that they are not listening.
Lisa tells us about a small airfield just behind her house. She says that hundreds of community members signed a petition against its construction, but the county still approved and built it.
When an entire community shows up and are against something and it happens anyway, that kind of lets you know they aren't listening to us and we cannot put all of our eggs in that basket because they will turn their back on us. They have [00:08:00] before. We are on our own. We really are.
You see the raspberries coming, right? The red?
Rebecca walks us through her pastures to the edge of her property. She points at the parcels of land next to hers and tells us which are held by Piedmont.
That's the fence line. So Piedmont Lithium, from my understanding, has bought that entire farm behind us and there's a creek down below. I don't know if we can see it or not…
And the guy that I told you about — see the roof right there — the house was built last year and I think that's the property manager for them.
Rebecca started expanding her horse operation in 2016. She purchased a few Stonewall sport horses, known for their distinctive black and white spots, from a ranch near San Francisco.
That [00:09:00] was a big move for us to bring horses from California all the way to put into the program and then find out that our program could be in jeopardy.
2016 was also when Rebecca first heard about Piedmont. Not long after, the hay farmer down the road sold out. That was when Rebecca realized her plans for the ranch were at risk.
Wasn't happy about it, went from anything from mad to sad, to totally devastated and crying for a while. I mean, I puddle up thinking about it because it was one of those things, you know, when you're planning stuff and you put so much into bringing everything there and putting it there, and… We consider this paradise. This is a beautiful place. We've had beautiful places, but this was supposed to happen.
So since 2016, Rebecca has adopted another life as an [00:10:00] organizer in her community dedicated to preventing the open pit mine.
You know, we're going door to door. We're helping to get signs out. We're helping people. This is a letter that got circulated.
When Rebecca joined the local group that had formed in opposition to the mine, informally known as Stop Piedmont Lithium, she brought some ideas with her. One of them involved knocking on doors and speaking with neighbors directly. She also helps write letters with updates about the mine so her community can stay informed and encourages her neighbors to speak up and ask questions when they can.
Rebecca tells us about a church meeting that Piedmont hosted two years ago for local residents.
We heard about it last minute, and so then we told as many people as we could. And the place got packed which was great because it was nice to see the show of what was [00:11:00] happening.
As Rebecca recounts it, Piedmont dismissed their concerns at the meeting.
They were condescending. They were just, you know, flippant. They wouldn't answer questions. And they pretty much didn't care.
Rebecca felt that Piedmont treated them as uneducated country people who didn't know what they were talking about. This upset her. The mine threatened the future she had spent her life working toward. So, she has been helping to organize opposition to the mine, but her work isn't the only way to resist.
As Rebecca builds opposition through speaking with her neighbors, Lisa holds a microscope to Piedmont's paperwork.
In the only meeting that Piedmont Lithium had with the county commissioners and the community members of Gaston County — was July of 2021 — they said that they had already had their 404 and 401 permits and a Title Five Air Quality Permit.
[00:12:00] These are water and air permits Piedmont needs to start operations.
And in my mind I'm thinking, how can they have this if they have no plans that they can share with the community?
And that was one of the other things, we don't have the plans finalized. So I thought to myself then, how can you have permits? If there are no plans, how is that possible? How is that legal? So I just started looking all of this up.
Lisa has been combing through Piedmont's permit applications ever since. She studies the company's plans and shares her findings with the community. With many wanting more information, Lisa is providing an essential service.
As she researches, Lisa also thinks of her elderly neighbors, whose lives are being disrupted by the mine.
She tells us that she saw a post on Facebook about a neighbor's grandparents feeling pressured into selling their property. This was a tipping point for Lisa.
I'm reading this story [00:13:00] and I'm thinking, “If that was my grandmother, I will see you in hell before I will let you harass my grandparents.” And I felt that way about his grandparents. And I'm like, absolutely not. I will not let that happen. I know I don't have a dog in the fight, but I got in it and I said, “Okay, what can I do to help you?” Because this is unacceptable.
Lisa is looking out for her community. She wants to protect their ability to lead the lives they envision for themselves. She is going through the documents so her neighbors can be informed and have the knowledge necessary to oppose the mine.
But Lisa tells us it is a difficult process because much of the information is not easily accessible. She feels like the people who will be most impacted by the mine are being left in the dark. And, like Rebecca, that their voices are not being heard.
At the time of our conversation, Piedmont had not appeared [00:14:00] before the community at a county meeting in two years. Lisa says she tried to communicate with their local office several times to no avail. As we sit together on her porch, we can tell that she is frustrated.
I think, you know, the community absolutely wants a public hearing. At this point, I do not want to speak on the phone. I want to look in your eyes. I'm going to read you. I think you owe us all that.
So many things have changed for Rebecca and Lisa since Piedmont came to town. The mine itself might not be a reality yet, but the idea of it has already altered the landscape of their lives.
When we were talking in Rebecca's driveway, she mentioned feeling displaced by the mine.
Oh yeah, absolutely. We feel displaced because, you know, we're stuck because [00:15:00] we can't sell. We've sunk a lot of money in here. So we're working, we're planning on being retired next year was our target date but it's not gonna happen. So, you know, we have all these animals that could take care of us through our retirement, but we can't go forward.
When we spoke to Lisa later, at her ranch, she mentioned feeling a similar burden.
There are several farmers this year with the threat of this that just said, “You know what? I'm too old for this. I fought something along these lines my entire life we're done. I give up.” They will still refuse to sell to Piedmont, but they can't fight it anymore. The fight's gone. And we are kind of in the crosshairs ourselves.
We're like, okay. I mean, we're not old enough to quit yet. We really don't want to give in. But if it comes down to it, we may not have a choice. We won't go [00:16:00] down until we don't have a choice, but we may not, you know, and that's, that's the truth of it. We may be finished too and just don't know it yet.
Like many of their neighbors whose livelihoods depend on the health of the land, Rebecca and Lisa worry about their animals. They worry how their proximity to the mine operations might affect their comfort and safety.
When I think about the constant noise of rumbling and blasting and this and that, especially with my older horses that… One is half blind cuz she's blind in one eye and the other one is totally blind cuz she's got one eye missing. And you know when they can't see, and they have to be able to see to defend themselves and to protect themselves. And the one that you hear out there crying, she's the blind one.
Cows are very skittish animals, they are very [00:17:00] peaceful most of the time. But you take one spooked cow, and you have a spooked herd. And that's total chaos in any situation. They will run until they cannot run or until they break free from whatever it is that they think they're being held by. And then they just pile up. And trying to catch them after they've been that worked up is, ugh. I can't even explain in words how frustrating that is.
It's something that I worry about cuz you know, in the summertime we're shielded all the leaves and stuff. You don't hear the noises. But then in the wintertime we hear the factories that are up in Lincolnton and in Cherryville.
We have a toy airplane behind us, a field, and the airplanes will scatter and cause the cattle to run. And it caused us to lose three head of cattle one year. They were birthing and moms got spooked, [00:18:00] started running in the middle of the birthing process, killed the calves, ended up killing the cow. We think, okay, if that's that far away and we're still hearing and feeling it through the middle of the night, what's gonna happen if it's right here and I'm thinking, okay, these, these are toy airplanes and they're terrified of that noise. Any cattle anywhere around with the noise of the mine trucks. On a large scale level, it will be chaos.
Their concerns go beyond the human community. On the one hand, Lisa and Rebecca worry about losing the way of life they have created for themselves. Both depend on animals for their livelihood. On the other, they feel genuine worry about the health and well-being of the horses and cattle, creatures who live outdoors and are susceptible to disturbance.
The looming mine places Rebecca's dream of operating a horse retreat on hold. [00:19:00] It threatens Lisa's livelihood as a cattle rancher.
People in environmental justice circles sometimes describe injustice as something that impedes the ability of an individual or group to pursue a particular way of living. Take the 2010 BP oil spill, for example. The spill caused long term damage to ecosystems that made it difficult for fisherfolk to practice their way of life. Lisa and Rebecca's fight is not just about opposing the mine. It's about protecting their ability to lead the paths they set out for themselves and their animals. It's about determining their own futures.
Rebecca tells us that her organizing work has brought her closer to her community.
It's been great because my neighbors across the street that have been here longer than anybody around here, [00:20:00] they're an older couple. I talked to them yesterday and they says, “You, you know more than neighbors than we do.” And I go, “Yeah, and it's only because of this.”
I mean, I could get you, anyone from this road and around the corner all the way to the church. Any one of those people would be willing to talk to you guys, I'm sure.
And she's right. After touring her ranch, Rebecca walks us down the road and introduces us to her neighbors. Rebecca tells them the latest news, and they share bits of their story. We get the sense that they trust Rebecca. She is becoming a spokesperson in her community.
But when we ask her whether she considers herself an activist, Rebecca insists she is just one person playing a small role.
I don't know whether I call myself an activist, you know, I'm nobody, I'm just one person here. It's just, I feel passionate about it. I feel passionate that it's just not [00:21:00] right. And it's not that it's just not right for us. It's not right for all of our neighbors as well. And if anything I've ever prided myself on is I'm a person that helps people. Because nothing's worse than watching people get taken advantage of and standing by and watching it, So, yeah, I guess I am an activist. I don’t buy into labels.
Lisa walks us around her porch and shows us her land. She tells us about the other animals she shares the farm with, like the wild turkeys.
I've only seen the hen once, you know, and it was by accident. I happened to walk out early in the morning to drink my coffee and she was kind of walking down through the field. I could just see the top of her head and I was like, oh, there you are.
But it, especially in the evenings and early mornings around the field, you can just hear her calling. I know the owls are here at night. We have a screech owl and a barred owl, and we had a picture of it, of the barred owl. He flew up on [00:22:00] the porch in the middle of the day, one day and just sat there like, “Hey.” I'm like, “Wow. I don't know whether to run or take a video.”
Lisa's land is beautiful, and full of life, and she wants to protect it. At the end of our conversation, she reminds us what this fight means to her.
My biggest thing is, to Piedmont Lithium, to the county, to the state, to the federal government: stop burying the truth or stop hiding it. Put the information, all of the information, and make it physically available, especially to this community. Give us everything. Give us your time. Give us your ear. Be honest. Be open.
As we drove away from Lisa's ranch, I kept thinking about something her granddaughter recently shared with her.
She said, I'm gonna have to clean up this mess. [00:23:00] Me and my friends and the people that are my age are gonna have to fix this, and I'm not okay with it. She said, so be loud. Be loud and don't stop.
Lisa keeps reading the fine print. Rebecca continues reaching out to her neighbors. They care for their families and animals and refuse to accept the path that the mind lays out for them.
Instead, they choose to defend what they have. Lisa is being loud. Rebecca is, too. And they aren't stopping.
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio, and it's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
For their support and expertise, we thank at Princeton, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, the Humanities Council, and the Office of the Dean of Research, as well as Kouvenda Media.
This episode of Mining for the Climate was written [00:24:00] and hosted by Grace Wang.
Sound design was by Grace Wang and Juan Manuel Rubio.
Our research and production team includes Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen, and Juan Manuel Rubio.
Music for this episode was by Purple Planet. Find it at purple-planet.com.
Additional music tracks are from Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows.
Mining for the Climate was made possible by funding from Blue Lab, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, and the Office of the Dean for Research at Princeton University.
We would like to express our gratitude to the following people for their generosity and kindness. Amir Adaryani, H. L. Beam, Locke Bell, Ian Bigley, Rebecca Buck, Chad Brown, Brian Dalton, Wyatt Gjullin, Larry Neal, Monique Parker, Adam Parr, Thea Riofrancos, [00:25:00] Erin Sanders, Lisa Stroupe, Emily Winter, and Tom.
At Blue Lab, we especially thank the lab's director, Allison Carruth, along with Barron Bixler, Maggie Poost, Jayme Collins, Jessica Ng, and Mario Soriano.
At the High Meadows Environmental Institute, we thank Emily Ahmetaj, Stacey Christian, Kathy Hackett, Nathan Jessee, Ryan Juskus, Zack Kaado, Heidi Mihalik, and Laura Matecha.
And at the Effron Center for the Study of America, we give special thanks to NicQuwesha Toliver.
Many residents of Gaston County make their living through farming and ranching. We meet a cattle and a horse rancher whose livelihoods and animals are threatened by the mine. Both women are doing everything in their power to stop the mine and maintain their way of life.
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio. It's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
Episode Credits
- Written by Grace Wang
- Hosted by Grace Wang
- Sound design by Grace Wang and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Research and production team: Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Music by Purple Planet, Shake that Little Foot, Pryor Meadows and Olexy
- Shady Grove by Shake That Little Foot is licensed under a Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 International License
Rebecca Buck with her Percheron, Anna, and Stonewall Sporthouse, Carnival, at Flint Ridge Ranch. Photo by Grace Wang.
Rebecca’s horses Carnival, Anna, and Sugar grazing in the fields at Flint Ridge Ranch. Photo by Grace Wang.
Episode 5: Forking Paths
Mining for the Climate Episode 5: "Forking Paths”
Full Transcript
[00:00:00] Gaston County has arrived at a crossroads. As Piedmont Lithium works with the state of North Carolina to receive a mining permit, the Gaston County Board of Commissioners is determining what they will do when Piedmont submits a petition for rezoning.
Here's Gaston County Commissioner Chad Brown speaking to Alex, Max, and Grace in July 2023.
As of this day, Piedmont Lithium does not have a North Carolina license. And until that is done, they can't ask the county, for their rezoning.
The land is currently zoned R1 for agricultural and residential use, which carries the lightest regulations. Piedmont Lithium will request rezoning to I3 for industrial use, which carries the heaviest regulations.
The permitting process is a crucial moment in the development of most mines. Once the state and federal permits are issued, the mine [00:01:00] can typically commence. In the case of Gaston County and Piedmont Lithium, however, the land must be rezoned and conditional use must be granted before the mining permit can take effect.
If the county commissioners approve the parcel rezoning and grant conditional use of the land, the road ahead will involve building the mine. If they strike down any part of the rezoning petition, Piedmont Lithium will not be able to mine these lands until, that is, they satisfy county zoning ordinances.
We are standing at a crossroads. Will the mine become more than an idea? If it doesn't proceed, will the idea of the mine continue to affect those who live nearby?
This is the final episode of Season 1, Mining for the Climate. I'm your host, Nate Otjen.
[00:02:00] So my understanding is they are gonna get their mining permit eventually.
This is Brian Dalton, City Manager of Cherryville, a town of several thousand that borders part of the proposed mine.
Whether it's today or whether it's six months from now, whenever it will eventually happen. Once they get their mining permit, that's when they will go to Gaston County to probably file for a rezoning and a special use permit to do the mining, and then that's when Gaston County Commissioners will eventually make the decision on the project.
It's significant that the local government holds so much power in determining the fate of the mining project.
Here's Brown again:
We can't get this wrong. We have to ask all the questions. I know it seems like sometimes that Piedmont probably thinks were beating them or, brow beating them, over some things. But we [00:03:00] can't get this wrong. If the infrastructure for water is not in and the wells go dry, then they say, “Oh, we'll build it now.” I will not vote for anything that doesn't have water already in place in case something does wrong.
Brown gave us the impression that the Gaston County Board of Commissioners is unlikely to approve the petition for rezoning, at least for now. Regardless, Piedmont Lithium will almost certainly obtain a mining permit from the State of North Carolina.
Dalton believes that Piedmont faces few impediments to obtaining this permit.
As of right now, they're still trying to officially get their mining permit from the state. Now with that being said, my understanding is the State of North Carolina has never denied a mining permit. So, and I think in statute it actually says once you meet certain questions and once you answer all the questions that they have, they shall issue your mining permit.
The permitting [00:04:00] process is more of a back-and-forth negotiation between the State of North Carolina, which requires that certain laws, regulations, and standards are met, and the mining company, in this case, Piedmont Lithium. North Carolina wants to ensure that mines are built, and that they're built in accordance with state and federal laws.
This introduces a central dilemma, however. Why isn't the permitting process based upon community input? If permitting offers the only meaningful opportunity to push back against a mine, why isn't community support a criteria for issuing a permit?
Permitting raises larger questions about the collaboration between government and industry, and about the ability of residents to grant consent. This isn't just an issue for Gaston County, it plays out across the entire country.
Here's Ian Bigley, a regional [00:05:00] organizer for the non-profit EarthWorks, speaking about mining permit applications. We will meet them again in season two.
So on the permitting side, not only is it assumed that this is the best use of the land, they're not having to defend that there should be a mine there. They're trying to defend this is the correct plan for a mine in satisfying the other environmental laws.
Ian's referring here to public land in the western United States. Their statement is representative of the broader approach to permitting taken in the US.
Ian raises three important points. First, permits do not weigh competing uses and values of land. US mine permitting policies generally prioritize mining above other activities and overlook competing land uses. Keeping a 100-acre forest intact for several decades may be more desirable than building a mine. However, permitting agencies don't typically see it this way.
Second, the permitting process does not [00:06:00] require that mining companies defend the need for their proposed mine. It's already assumed that mining is the right way forward.
And third, because permitting does not require companies to defend their mines, application approval hinges not on whether communities accept or reject a mine, but rather on whether a mine can satisfy environmental regulations.
As Ian explains:
Community acceptance is not a criteria of permitting, in either federal or state level permitting regimes.
By design, permitting proceeds without community consent. In the case of the proposed lithium mine in Gaston County, local government has more power to stop the mine or substantially alter its course. That's because they will determine whether the mine meets local zoning ordinances.
Their decision will determine which path the mine, [00:07:00] and the region, will follow.
The energy transition presents many forking paths. Gaston County's case could set the region and the country on a different path.
Let's imagine for a moment that the mine is built. This is one path.
Here's Erin Sanders, Senior Vice President of Corporate Communications and Investor Relations at Piedmont Lithium.
This spodumene mean belt is unique as far as the size and the infrastructure are around it. There are some very remote places where lithium, can be found in a commercially viable, resource. And that's fly in, fly out.
That's really tough. You don't have the infrastructure. That's one of the really important points about this project in the Carolina tin-spodumene belt where we can employ people who can go home every night.
The Carolina tin-spodumene [00:08:00] deposit is nearly 40 miles long by approximately 0.5- to 1-mile wide. This narrow seam of spodumene rock extends across the border of North and South Carolina. Although it's not clear whether lithium can be mined from all parts of the deposit, Piedmont Lithium has been buying land along it.
The company believes that this deposit will play an important role in the emerging “battery belt,” a regional manufacturing hub for the production of electric vehicles. Here's Erin again.
I'm sure you've heard about the battery belt. Well, it is stretching from up in Michigan, Ohio and coming down here through the Carolinas in Georgia. All these operations are either extracting minerals, battery development, or car EV development or other electrification. North Carolina has a [00:09:00] company that does vans and buses, and then one that is developing electric boats.
This is the vision for the 21st century battery belt. Mines proliferate across the region, providing the lithium needed to produce lithium-ion batteries. Car manufacturing hubs assemble batteries and fuse them into their latest EV models. In this vision of the future, lithium mined from the tin-spodumene deposit will power the nation's newest fleet of electric vehicles.
Piedmont Lithium's proposed mine in Gaston County is expected to meet 4% percent of the total domestic lithium demand by 2030, though this could decline if demand increases or more mines open up.
What would it look like, however, if the mine isn't built?
We could imagine that the mine [00:10:00] isn't constructed, that people like Locke, Lisa, and Rebecca would be able to continue their lives, albeit with the fear that another mining company might try to use different tactics. Locke opens his park, Lisa grows her cattle operation, and Rebecca establishes her horse ranch and sanctuary.
From the perspective of most outsiders, however, it's far easier and more attractive to imagine a future that looks like the battery belt. This, right here, is the problem. This is the danger of the single path.
We live in a mining-intensive society, one where the instruments we depend upon for our everyday existence, from cars to phones to soda [00:11:00] cans, are built using materials that come from deep within the earth. Ours is a society in which the very idea of the future is tethered to unlimited extraction and growth. Without intensive mining, the future becomes difficult for many to envision.
Veering from the dominant path would be catastrophic, we are told. Society would collapse. We would fall to the devastation of the climate crisis. Progress and civilization would end. The single path laid out by mining makes it challenging to imagine, let alone develop and follow, alternate paths.
If we want a future where Locke, Lisa, Rebecca, and countless others have the ability to lead the lives they envision for themselves, we need to build and travel different [00:12:00] paths.
This requires thinking outside or against the futures already envisioned for us. Many solutions have already been proposed to put us on less mining-intensive paths.
A January 2023 report from the Climate and Community Project found that the United States could reduce lithium demand, and thus the need to open more mines, while still working toward decarbonization. The report offered three recommendations. First, to reduce the car dependence of the transportation system. Second, to decrease the size of electric vehicle batteries, which have tripled since the first EV came on the market. And third, to maximize lithium recycling.
Here's Thea Riofrancos, Associate Professor of Political Science at Providence College and the lead author of the report.
Though we [00:13:00] are seeing more and more EVs bought and sold in the United States, we're still at the early stages of decarbonizing our transportation sector. That means that the total volume of the extraction of lithium alongside other transition minerals is not a given, and there are still critical political and social and economic choices to be made about how we decarbonize, with huge implications for how much lithium will be demanded, as well as for the contours of those transportation environments at the local level.
Experts speak of ensuring consent, not simply consultation, as another path.
As Wyatt Gjullin, a lawyer for Earth Rights International, explains, the current mine permitting and approval process does not give communities the opportunity to say “no," to refuse a mine.
I believe that any consultation process that doesn't have, [00:14:00] the duty to obtain consent as part of it is almost inherently coercive. When you think about two sides negotiating and one side does not have the ability to walk away and say no, then it tends to be coercive because the options there are to engage in a process that you don't feel guarantees your rights and thereby through your participation legitimize the project. I think structurally, that's a huge issue. You need the ability to say “no,” to have the consent be authentic.
Experts point to circular economies as yet another path. Here's Ian with Earthworks again.
Earthworks is really supportive of what's called a circular economy. There's circular economies all around us. It's a little cheesy, but like the best example is nature. There is no trash can in nature. Anything that's waste gets reused. That's a really basic principle of sustainability.
So what we wanna see is [00:15:00] making sure that we are prioritizing recycling and reuse before new mining. And unfortunately, you make more money with new mining than recycling currently. A big part of that is battery design.
This is an opportunity to improve. This is an opportunity to envision a future with less oppression. And it's an opportunity to look for solutions that are truly sustainable, like mass transit recycling and changing battery design.
The energy transition presents us with an array of opportunities, a set of forking paths. The question is, which ones do we follow, and where do they take us?
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio, and it's a [00:16:00] production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
For their support and expertise, we thank at Princeton, the High Meadows Environmental Institute, the Humanities Council, and the Office of the Dean of Research, as well as Kouvenda Media.
Our research and production team includes Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen, and Juan Manuel Rubio.
Music for this episode was by Purple Planet. Find it at purple-planet.com.
Additional music tracks are from Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows.
This episode of Mining for the Climate was produced by me, Nate Otjen, and edited by me, Juan Manuel Rubio, Alex Norbrook, Max Widman, and Grace Wang.
We would like to express our gratitude to the following people for their generosity and kindness. Amir Adaryani, H. L. Beam, Locke Bell, Ian Bigley, Rebecca Buck, [00:17:00] Chad Brown, Brian Dalton, Wyatt Gjullin, Larry Neal, Monique Parker, Adam Parr, Thea Riofrancos, Erin Sanders, Lisa Stroupe, Emily Winter, and Tom.
At Blue Lab, we especially thank the lab's director, Allison Carruth, along with Barron Bixler, Maggie Poost, Jayme Collins, Jessica Ng, and Mario Soriano.
At the High Meadows Environmental Institute, we thank Emily Ahmetaj, Stacey Christian, Kathy Hackett, Nathan Jessee, Ryan Juskus, Zack Kaado, Heidi Mihalik, and Laura Matecha.
And at the Effron Center for the Study of America, we give special thanks to NicQuwesha Toliver.
The road ahead for the Carolina Lithium project seems uncertain. In this final episode, we look at the greatest obstacle confronting Piedmont Lithium: convincing the Gaston County Board of Commissioners to approve their rezoning request.
Mining for the Climate is a co-creation of Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio. It's a production of Blue Lab at Princeton University.
Episode Credits
- Written by Nate Otjen
- Hosted by Nate Otjen
- Sound design by Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Research and production team: Max Widmann, Alex Norbrook, Grace Wang, Nate Otjen and Juan Manuel Rubio
- Music by Purple Planet, Shake that Little Foot and Pryor Meadows
- Shady Grove by Shake That Little Foot is licensed under a Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 International License
Audio Clip Credits
- More Mobility with Less Mining, Climate and Community, 2023
“O,” a Sugarbush Draft Stallion, living at Rebecca Buck’s Flint Ridge Range in Bessemer City. Video by Nate Otjen.