Aapo got up and looked out the window. The Baltic Sea was calm as always at dawn. Many years have passed since the mornings with skies tainted by smog. The social and environmental transformation here has been a success, and everyone did something about it. Aapo proudly looks at his new electric car. He has been part of this transformation for 10 years, when the government promoted the transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy sources. By 2030, the entire automotive fleet will be electric, powered by lithium batteries, a harmless element with no consequences for the environment. At least not for his.
On the other side of the world, when Amaru wakes up, he also looks out the window. The Puna wakes up quietly. Soon he will leave with his herd of llamas in search of food. It has become increasingly difficult to find food and water in the nearby meadows, and their ancient trails are now restricted by wires. In the distance, the smoke from the buses announces the arrival of workers at the lithium mines. In his village, there is a new school, a new sports field, and soon there will be a clinic. But despite the improvements, Amaru and his people feel that, along with lithium, part of their life and environment is slipping away.
Our immediate world extends no more than a few dozen or a few hundred kilometers, and we tend to think that what we do only impacts our surroundings. However, in a globalized world, our decisions can affect remote points on the planet with which we are not in direct contact. The volumes of materials and species we exchange globally have an unprecedented impact. Sciences have been studying these flows of matter and energy between sites at significant distances – something known as “telecouplings” – and their environmental and social consequences.
An electric vehicle like Aapo’s, manufactured in Europe or Asia, includes parts from very diverse origins. Its batteries are made up of plastic and common metals, but for its operation, the lightest of metals, lithium, is indispensable. Lithium is a simple but difficult-to-obtain and process element. Much of the lithium used in batteries is found as lithium chloride dissolved in the salt flats of the Andes. To obtain it, it is necessary to process large amounts of brine in procedures that require evaporating large volumes of water, even using underground freshwater.
In the arid environments of the Andes, with extreme climatic conditions and unique biodiversity, water is an extremely vital and critical element. To obtain the lithium for Aapo’s car battery, it was likely necessary to use the water that is now lacking in Amaru’s Puna. Without that water, the unique biodiversity of those meadows and the animals’ food, essential for his family’s livelihood and his community’s identity, are also missing.
**Litio: ¿desde dónde y hacia dónde?**
The South American Puna region where Amaru lives is part of the famous “lithium triangle,” which includes parts of Bolivia, Chile, and Argentina and concentrates more than 60% of the world’s reserves. This has attracted the attention of multinational companies (for its economic value) and local and foreign governments (for its strategic value).
While its exploitation represents significant economic income for these countries, it also poses high risks to the environment and socio-environmental justice, which implies that people can remain in their own healthy environment.
Currently, lithium extraction is extractivist, that is, an intensive appropriation of natural goods that are then exported to global markets. Chile, Argentina, and Brazil are among the top five lithium producers, with Bolivia close to joining this list.
The South American lithium is used by China and countries in the Global North to produce batteries for the energy transition. As with other raw materials exported from South America, the economic gains for the country and local communities are minimal, receiving and assimilating high costs or environmental liabilities in return.
These liabilities, in the case of lithium, include wetland desiccation (meadows of the Puna, the Altiplano, or Atacama), loss of biodiversity, and landscapes that are part of the local identity, changes in climate, and harm to human and environmental health.
Chile, the world’s second-largest lithium producer from salt flats, is already experiencing socio-environmental consequences.
The Salar de Atacama is sinking at a rate of between one and two centimeters per year, and groundwater levels have dropped up to 10 meters below historical levels. Additionally, the excessive use of freshwater from surrounding deep aquifers has consequences that will undoubtedly be critical in the future due to the region’s arid characteristics, with less than 25 mm of annual rainfall.
The extraction of lithium today undoubtedly means mortgaging the future of these strategic water reserves. Similar problems are currently being seen in Argentina.
**¿Cómo alcanzar una transición energética justa a escala global?**
Aapo tries to do his part, but unknowingly he is contributing to generating catastrophic consequences for Amaru and the socioecosystems of South America. Both the companies that manufactured his car and the governments that planned the energy transition only thought about the here and now. Unfortunately, the governments in South America did too.
Taking advantage of the historical moment when the abundant resource reaches high values in the international market, these governments see an excellent opportunity for foreign exchange income. The situation also reveals an asymmetry of forces and capacities to negotiate sustainable ways of using common natural goods. There are even disputes between North America and Asia for control of South American lithium.
What is the solution? First, to try to make lithium extraction a sustainable socio-environmental process. For this, we still need to develop techniques that allow extraction without negative consequences. Additionally, South American countries that basically export raw materials must participate in the transition to sustainable mobility in higher links of the chain, at least in battery production.
Finally, the actors driving these transitions must be aware of the consequences of telecouplings and interrelationships at each stage of the product’s life cycle (production, use, and final disposal). This requires communication about the origin of each component of vehicles, including traceability of material sourcing.
In 2023, the European Union approved a regulation on deforestation-free products (EUDR), an innovative political measure with direct implications for the governance of global commodity chains. It implies traceability so that certain goods, such as meat or grains, must certify that their production did not involve deforestation in the country of origin.
Similar regulations could be applied to lithium imported into the European Union for battery or car manufacturing. While it will take time to evaluate the effectiveness of these measures, they could represent a significant first step.
We need policies of this kind to develop a global mindset focused not only on trade but also on preserving diversity (biological and cultural), equality of rights, and the health of the planet’s socio-ecosystems. A planet where both Aapo and Amaru are part of.
*Author: Lucas Enrico / Latin America21*
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