‘White gold’ and forgotten voices: The Lithium Triangle and the Future of South America

The South American landscape is a study in extremes. The Amazon basin, often referred to as the ‘lungs of the earth’, teems with biodiversity; while the Andes, the world’s longest mountain range, provides breathtaking views and vital resources. To the South, Patagonia offers windswept plains and glaciers that defy time. In its bustling cities, the pulse of modernity beats alongside the echoes of ancient traditions which serve as hubs of culture, commerce and innovation; while rural villages whisper stories of resilience and harmony with nature.

But beneath the splendour lies a region grappling with rapid change: a battle between the old and the new, the sacred and the commodified. The Lithium Triangle, consisting of Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni, Argentina’s Salar de Hombre Muerto, and Chile’s Salar de Atacama, is at the epicenter of a new technological boom. These salt flats hide the world’s largest reserves of lithium, the so-called ‘white gold’ powering our global transition to green energy.

As the world races towards a sustainable future, the Lithium Triangle has become a focal point of economic and geopolitical interest. Yet, for the indigenous communities who have called these lands home for centuries, the cost of progress is measured not in dollars or tons of lithium, but in water, culture and identity.

To extract one ton of lithium, nearly 500,000 gallons of water are evaporated from brine pools

Guardians of sacred waters

High in the arid mountains of northern Argentina, the Qulla people have long embraced a way of life deeply intertwined with the rhythms of the earth. In their small towns, water is more than a necessity; it is a sacred force that sustains both body and spirit. During the rainy months, the surrounding landscape offers a brief abundance, but in the dry season, families trek for miles under the relentless sun, seeking water to nourish their livestock.

For the Qulla, every day begins with a ritual honoring Pachamama, the Andean Earth Mother. They offer coca leaves and clear liquor to the lands, symbolizing life and water, in a gesture of gratitude and reciprocity. The act of giving back reflects their belief that the earth must be nurtured in return for its gifts. These traditions, rooted in respect for nature, have guided the Qulla for generations.

The Lithium Triangle: A Modern Gold Rush

While the Qulla people maintained their cornerstone practices of giving back to the earth, the world shifted its focus to the extraction of even more natural resources. A global transition towards more sustainable energy sources meant a surge in the demand for lithium (a mineral critical for electric vehicles batteries, smartphones and renewable energy storage) between 2021 and 2023. The region quickly became a battleground for economic opportunity, drawing the attention of global powers like the US and China, both eager to secure their share of the ‘white gold’.

South American governments, too, saw this as an opportunity for economic growth, promising jobs, infrastructure, and development. Indeed, Chile´s economic growth is undeniable. When companies began extracting lithium in the early 1980s, many left their communities for the promise of a brighter future. Today, mining makes up around 60% of Chile´s exports, making it a crucial backbone to the country´s economy. Some of this income has trickled down into smaller communities. In nearby towns, companies advertise investment projects, promoting mobile dental clinics and sports facilities, and in many ways filling the gaps that the Chilean government overlooks.

For indigenous communities, however, this development comes at a great cost – one that is often overlooked in the pursuit of profit. Extracting lithium is a water-intensive process and in these arid regions, water is life. To extract one ton of lithium, nearly 500,000 gallons of water are evaporated from brine pools. Although the water in the pools is not drinkable, they are connected to local freshwater sources such as infrequent rains and nearby mountain streams, all of which are vital for the survival of thousands of indigenous communities. Large-scale industrial water extraction not only risks contaminating freshwater with pumped brine, but also accelerates depletion of the surrounding environment which accentuates the challenges already posed by climate change-induced droughts.

In Salar de Atacama in Chile, where lithium mining is in full swing, water levels have dropped significantly, disrupting local ecosystems and threatening the livelihoods of farmers and herders. Flamingos, who feed on the microorganisms in the brine and are central to indigenous customs, are declining due to habitat destruction. Nearby freshwater wells and lagoons have dried up, leading to the disappearance of grass essential for livestock. Even carob trees, known to survive harsh environments, are withering near mine sites. This erosion extends beyond environmental loss; traditional ways of life fade as younger generations abandon ancestral practices of ranching and shared community work for the promise of higher wages in larger mining towns. Despite the freshwater brought in by artificial channels and water centres built by the companies for neighbouring towns, communities higher in the mountains are left without help as they begin to feel the effects of decreasing water levels too.

While Bolivia’s reserves remain largely untouched, communities in Argentina look on in horror as Chile’s reality seems to inch closer with every passing day. In the summer of 2023, driven by the lure of mining profits, Argentinean local governments amended their constitution to facilitate the expansion of lithium extraction. These changes undermined indigenous land rights and restricted avenues for protest, a move that environmental lawyers have condemned as a violation of international law. Thousands rose up in protest, blocking transport routes used by mining operations. But, they were met with harsh responses, including violent crackdowns and arbitrary arrests.

Yet protests are expected to continue. Forced to participate in a system that erases their traditions and removes their autonomy over local water sources, it is no surprise that the clash between indigenous worldviews and capitalist development is stark. For these communities, the impact is not just physical but spiritual, as they see the land not as a commodity but as a living entity. The reality is, the pressures of globalisation and economic development force indigenous communities to choose between abandoning their ways of life or risk being left behind. Once, all they needed here to survive were water and land. Now, to keep up with development, they need money. And in a world that seems to be running ahead of itself, it says they can’t have both.

The Myth of Green energy

Lithium is often hailed as the foundation of a greener future, but its extraction tells a different story. The environmental destruction and cultural devastation raise a critical question: can an energy solution truly be green if it leaves ruin in its wake?

History has shown that resource booms often leave behind more harm than good. The Gold rushes of the 19th and 20th centuries, and the Oil Boom are just two examples of short-lived flourishes that left impoverished states mere shells of their former prosperity. Like past resource surges, the lithium rush risks prioritising short-term goals and profits over long-term sustainability. For once the reserves are depleted, what remains is a barren landscape and an ancient society that the world chooses to forget.

A Call for Change

The South American landscape is more than just a physical space: it is a living breathing, entity, shaped by the interplay of nature and humanity. But, as we approach the midpoint of the 21st century, it stands at a crossroads. The choices made today will shape the continent’s future, determining whether it becomes a model for sustainable development or a cautionary tale of exploitation and loss.

But as the world’s most powerful turn their heads towards the triangle, communities worry that the search for the mineral will mean sacrificing the very life force that has sustained their region for centuries. A microcosm of the global struggle between progress and preservation, the indigenous communities of South America wait for someone to pose the question; is lithium worth more than water?

The answer lies not in the hands of corporations and governments but in the voices of the people who have lived in harmony with these landscapes for centuries. For true sustainability must extend beyond technology to include cultural and social dimensions.

Still, cultures are being erased by those not willing to understand them and water is being drained by those lucky enough to not have to trek across mountains to find it. In the race for progress, no one stops to see what is being lost. Make no mistake, a green future built on the ashes of ancient cultures and the destruction of the very world it claims to save is no future at all.