In the serene and fertile hills of northern Portugal, the tranquillity of the time-honoured farming village, Covas do Barroso, is under threat. The challenger – an opencast lithium mine envisaged a stone’s throw from their hearths and homes.
This precious mineral, harnessed for powering electric car batteries, plays a pivotal role in Europe’s trajectory towards a greener future. Portugal’s bountiful lithium reserves are, thus, increasingly sought after to satiate Europe’s escalating demand for electric cars, a factor the mining firm declares as an essential prerequisite. Yet, for the villagers, this does not warrant the obliteration of their centuries-old way of life.
“A complete devastation of our existence,” encapsulates Aida Fernandes, peering over the valley that could potentially harbour four opencast pits, each on the peripheries of their beloved village. Fernandes’ concerns are echoed by the generations who have preceded her, all of whom have shared her dedication to cattle farming in this verdant, untouched area, lauded by the UN for its agricultural heritage and pristine landscape.
Essential to their ongoing dispute is the matter of ‘common land,’ an area of shared ownership within the community, including the proposed site for the Barroso Lithium Project. This venture could churn out ample lithium to power half a million electric car batteries annually over its projected 14-year lifespan.
Indeed, 75% of the mining grounds would overlap the underlayers of common ground where lithium lies concealed. It is this land that Aida as the president of the local ‘Baldios,’ a common land association, staunchly defends from the international mining giant, Savannah Resource’s, lease offers.
With the EU aiming to cut ties with lithium dependency on China, Africa and South America, the Barroso mine presents a unique opportunity to source battery-grade lithium from within its borders. Following a series of environmental adjustments to their plans, Savannah Resources received a provisional green light from Portugal’s Environment Agency in May.
Notwithstanding, strong opposition persists. “In favor? No one,” attests Aida, declaring the fight far from over. If a resolution remains elusive, the Portuguese government may resort to expropriation.
The resistance resonates across the village, with citizens like Maria Loureiro refusing to sell her private plot to Savannah. “What would I do if I sold my land?” retorts Maria. She argues that she would not only lose her property but also access to pastures on the common land.
Echoing this sentiment, Fernando Queiroga, the Mayor of Boticas, which encompasses Covas do Barroso, surmises that recompense will be fruitless. In his view, once villagers cease farming for mining, they will end their agricultural pursuits for good.
As legal proceedings to halt the project pick up pace, Dale Ferguson, interim CEO of Savannah Resources, states that while they have heeded the village’s apprehensions, some impact is inevitable. Despite the progress made, the verdict depends on the judiciary.
“I see it as a best practice case,” is Portugal’s Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Ana Fontoura Gouveia’s hopeful outlook, assured that higher standards will benefit local populations.
The outcome, while decisive for the villagers, will be under watchful eyes across Europe as the continent grapples with balancing the push for green energy with preserving the sanctity of established local communities.
