unherd.com <https://unherd.com/2024/08/the-eu-is-hungry-for-serbias-lithium/>  


The EU is hungry for Serbia’s lithium


Matt Broomfield

8–11 minutes

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The EU is hungry for Serbia’s lithium A new mine has led to a wave of protest




Thousands of Serbs took to the streets to protest the opening of a new Lithium 
mine. (Photo by MARKO DJOKOVIC/AFP via Getty Images)

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 <https://unherd.com/author/matt-broomfieldunherd-com/> 

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It’s unusual for Olaf Scholz, Emmanuel Macron and CIA director William Burns 
all to visit the same small, Eastern European country in the space of weeks — 
particularly when that same country recently played host to Xi Jinping and is 
reputed to be a key ally of Putin’s Russia. It’s also unusual to witness 
protests where anarchist insignia and anti-capitalist messages appear alongside 
Russian flags and Orthodox icons. But a new lithium mine in Serbia, set to be 
operated by Australian mining conglomerate Rio Tinto Zinc to fuel the European 
Union’s growing hunger for electric car batteries, has driven intense global 
interest in the strategically-located Balkan nation — while also provoking 
intense protests from capital Belgrade down to the smallest village.

At one such rally in the capital, attendees are sceptical. “Politicians here 
are greedy for money, but they’re also seeking to play a role in between the 
EU, Russia and China”, says Anna Mirkovic, 30. “The foreign powers only care 
about what they can extract from Serbia — it’s lithium today, but they also 
want access to the land, to cheap labour, without any protections. It’s 
disgusting.”

There’s a similar mood in Gornje Nedeljice, a village in the heart of the Jadar 
region in western Serbia set to be displaced by the planned mine. The town is 
home to the mineral Jadarite, the only such place in the world it exists. The 
mineral deposits are so rich in lithium that they’re mooted to meet 90% of the 
EU’s current needs — reducing reliance on Chinese lithium. The village has been 
the focal point of protest for years, with the government initially revoking 
Rio Tinto’s licence in 2022 following a wave of mass protests. Signs by the 
roadside read “no to mining — yes to life”, and the green hillsides and laden 
cornfields remain unbroken by heavy equipment.

But the EU is hungry for lithium. Rio Tinto continued buying up land and, 
following intense diplomatic pressure, the government has reissued the licence 
— in what critics view as a quid pro quo allowing the nation to purchase closer 
access to the EU at the cost of its natural resources. Almost all the houses on 
the village’s upper ridge have been snapped up and now stand empty, earmarked 
for destruction with signs reading: “DANGEROUS BUILDING, DO NOT ENTER” — a 
startling sight in a country not normally known for its strict adherence to 
planning codes. In the graveyard of an orthodox chapel beside the abandoned 
houses, I meet Darko, 55, who was born and raised in the village. “I don’t know 
what our ancestors would say, if they were alive to see this,” he says. “They’d 
suffer with every bit of land that was sold”.

To Darko, the region’s cultural history, — where national hero Vuk Karadzic, 
the founder of the Serbian language, was born — agricultural richness and water 
table fed by the nearby Drina river are all reasons the EU should look 
elsewhere to meet its energy needs. On the main road below the abandoned 
village, I meet three generations of a local family sitting outside their 
business. They offer me a glass of spring water and locally-grown figs as 
physical evidence of their region’s natural wealth. “It’s like a horror movie 
up there at night, with everything empty”, says granddaughter Bojana, 22. “We 
have land in the village, too, but it’s not for sale.”

But most people have sold up after being offered handsome remuneration by Rio 
Tinto agents, with mostly ageing villagers scaling-up to three-bedroom city 
apartments. After Darko leaves the graveyard, I’m approached by two young men 
who had previously declined to speak with me, but now identify themselves as 
Rio Tinto employees. They still don’t want to give an interview, but are keen 
to know what I’m doing in the village, and praise Rio Tinto as “the best thing 
that’s happened to this region. They employ 300 people already, and it will be 
more”. This is the government’s case — that the mine will add a claimed 
<https://www.ft.com/content/2bd0d74e-ff22-442e-8be1-1250fe4bf826>  sum of 
between €10bn and €12bn to Serbia’s ailing economy. But so far, locals aren’t 
buying it.

The government led by Aleksandar Vučić regularly faces protests from the 
liberal middle classes in Belgrade, angry at perceived autocracy, media 
restrictions, corruption and lack of employment opportunities. Typically, the 
opposition calls for the liberalisation of society and a move toward the EU. 
But as the current pressure from Brussels suggests, the EU has long been happy 
to support Vučić and other regional strongmen in order to suit its own economic 
interests.

That’s why the Belgrade rally sees young liberals and socialists rubbing 
shoulders with older Serbians like Hajo, 70, holding aloft a Russian flag 
inscribed with the legend “you’re far from home” — a message to Brussels and 
the universally vilified German chancellor Scholz. “The biggest problem is not 
bad government, but lack of sovereignty and domination by Western interests”, 
he says. 

At the opposite end of the political spectrum, Milan Mladenovic, 20, has 
attended the Belgrade rally carrying the flag of the communist Yugoslav 
federation. His motivation is simple: “Back then, workers had rights, and 
businesses weren’t privatised.” Some older demonstrators ask for photos with 
the flag, a reminder of an era when Serbia and the rest of the former 
Yugoslavia enjoyed strong economic performance, a relatively high standard of 
living and outsized diplomatic influence. But younger, more pro-government and 
nationalist protesters spit on the flag and shout abuse.

“Younger, more pro-government and nationalist protesters spit on the flag and 
shout abuse.”

Like many young Belgrade residents, Milan says he sees the potential benefit a 
pivot toward Brussels could bring: “The EU funds schools and hospitals, whereas 
Russia gives us MiG warplanes: you see the difference. If we were in the EU, 
we’d have regulations, democracy and workers rights.” But Serbia is not likely 
to be allowed into that club any time soon, meaning the EU will continue to 
view the country as “a free market, a back door, open for cheap labour”.

Theoretically, the lithium resources could boost the local economy and meet an 
urgent, growing global need. But locals are uniformly wary of government 
complicity with exploitative foreign powers, characterising the plans as 
neo-imperialist exploitation. “Did they build any lithium mines in Germany? In 
Portugal? No, they built it here,” Darko says. But to the leaders of each 
country, the move is mutually beneficial. Germany can export its dirty business 
to a country with no realistic prospects of EU accession and Vučić can enjoy 
their support in another round of dodgy elections. 

The government is particularly concerned by the latest protests, characterising 
them as a part of a coup 
<https://www.reuters.com/world/europe/thousands-demand-halt-rio-tintos-lithium-project-serbia-2024-08-10/>
  organised by Russia. Dozens of people have been arrested for organising 
protests against the mine, as well as receiving anonymous death threats, while 
journalists covering the demonstrations have been pilloried by politicians.

This is likely due to the bipartisan nature of a cause which can unite even the 
government’s normal pro-Russian, conservative constituency with Belgrade 
liberals. A government long accustomed to bolstering support through 
nationalist rhetoric may find its support dwindling by protesters angered over 
the perceived sale of Serbian resources to benefit European and regional 
elites. Many protesters carry signs reading “Rio Tinto, March from the Drina” — 
a reference to a song and film commemorating Serbia’s unexpected First World 
War defeat of Austria-Hungary, in the first victory for the Allied Powers. It’s 
a reminder of the potential for nationalist opposition to the lithium scheme.

But most locals fatalistically agree the mine is a done deal. “Germany, 
Brussels: these are powerful forces. Vučić only continues what they put in 
motion”, Darko says. Bojana agrees, calling the decision to re-open the mine a 
“force majeure” imposition which can’t be withstood by domestic politicians or 
regional protests.

Rather, the Western Balkans will remain what Milan calls the “back door” of 
Europe, a dumping-ground for toxic industry which Germany and Brussels and 
other powers can burden with their needs in exchange for cheap concessions. A 
Chinese-run mine in Eastern Serbia is already displacing villages and 
deforesting hillsides to fuel a growing need for copper, also vital in green 
technology: in neighbouring Bosnia, the 2023 discovery of lithium ore looks set 
to fuel a similar scramble for profits. As EU politicians trumpet their 
squeaky-clean green credentials, this half-forgotten corner of Europe looks set 
to pay the cost.

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