Mines, Might and Misplaced Priorities

March 29, 2025

Mines, Might and Misplaced Priorities

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I found myself watching a BBC documentary about Albania this morning – not exactly top of everyone’s to-watch list, I know. It was part of a series titled “Balkan – Europe’s Forgotten Frontier,” and I expected the usual commentary on post-communist transition, maybe some mountain and village shots. Instead, I stumbled upon a segment spotlighting a gentleman who’d moved back from the United States to oversee a chromite ore mining operation in northern Albania. Throughout his on-camera tour, he extolled Albania’s potential for chromite extraction, pointing out that it’s crucial for producing stainless steel, which in turn underpins numerous advanced industries. He specifically underlined how it’s used in sophisticated defence equipment, implying that Albania’s mineral wealth could become a pivotal element in European, even global, security.

He emphasised something rather telling: chromite isn’t just an ordinary export – it’s the kind of raw material that nations covet for strategic advantage. Listening to him, you’d think this metal could single-handedly boost Albania’s economy while making Europe that much safer. Cue my bewilderment. How had we arrived at the point where the best use we can imagine for abundant natural resources is forging improved means of destruction? Sure, chromite is also used in countless civilian industries, from kitchenware to construction, but in the documentary, the refrain about “national security” and “defence industries” kept popping up.

A Global Scramble for Strategic Resources

It all left me questioning our collective priorities. Why do we so readily talk about arming ourselves – as though stockpiling weapons is the pinnacle of human progress – when the same metal could underpin infrastructure, renewable energy technology, or anything else that might benefit us without blowing anything up? Perhaps I’m being glib, but you have to admit it’s a tad depressing.

To be fair, the executive in the documentary wasn’t a villain. He talked up Albania’s mineral potential with genuine pride, remarking how it could propel the local economy forward. And yes, from a commercial perspective, selling chromite for military-grade uses can be very lucrative. Defence budgets rarely skimp, so if your job is to secure buyers for raw materials, you might well gravitate to the sector that will pay top quid. In the short term, it’s a sensible move: your company turns a profit, politicians get to declare a triumph of investment and job creation, and the nation’s global standing nudges upwards.

But, of course, it comes with a catch. Historically, once a mineral becomes tied to national security, all manner of geopolitical struggles follow. Other nations – some with deeper pockets or more pressing defence agendas – start eyeing that same resource. Competition intensifies, supply chains become subject to diplomatic wrangling, and local communities can end up sidelined, receiving a fraction of the profits and a disproportionate slice of the environmental fallout.

A telling example is the so-called “resource curse,” seen in countries endowed with abundant minerals but cursed with corruption or conflict. You can easily look at places like the Democratic Republic of Congo, whose cobalt reserves prop up both the global electronics market and the development of next-generation drones. Or Afghanistan, which was reputed to hold vast deposits of rare earth elements and lithium and became a strategic tug-of-war long before most Afghans had a say in how to use their own resources.

The Albanian case, on the surface, might appear more modest – but the same logic applies. If European or other foreign defence contractors see chromite as a critical resource, Albania’s mineral wealth could swiftly become a bargaining chip in a grander geopolitical game. After all, entire industries revolve around “national security,” with governments endlessly willing to pay for advanced military materials. So if chromite is a metal of interest, you can bet countries will manoeuvre to secure a reliable supply.

It’s not even just Europe and the United States. In a world where global powers jostle for dominance, amid what some geopolitical analysts call a new Cold War, everyone is eager to lock down critical minerals before their rivals do. That’s precisely how economic advantage and militarisation go hand in hand. Contracts get signed, licences are granted, and before you know it, some local economy is bound to the fortunes of arms production.

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Choosing Prosperity Over Destruction

One can argue that modern militaries do indeed need resources to keep their countries safe. After all, we are living in a not-so-peaceful world. But the recurring question is whether we default too quickly to weaponry as the highest-value application of a precious mineral – especially when we face challenges like climate change, water scarcity, and pandemic threats that no bomb or tank can deter.

It’s often pointed out that big defence spending yields technological breakthroughs. One might note, for instance, that the Internet and GPS have military roots. Fine. Yet that doesn’t necessarily prove we should prioritise arms development over more constructive pursuits. It merely highlights that when scientists and engineers receive ample funding, they come up with transformative ideas. Imagine if, rather than spinning off breakthroughs from missile programmes, we funded global “moonshots” in renewable energy or disease eradication in the first place.

I realise I might sound like a hopeless idealist, but let’s be frank: so long as these minerals are integral to “national security,” they will remain tethered to an arms race. Countries scramble to outdo one another with the latest drone, missile, or stealth tech, all requiring the toughest, most advanced materials they can get their hands on. If profits weren’t so high or if we didn’t value amassing these weapons quite so much, perhaps the Albanian man on the BBC wouldn’t need to dwell on “defence industries” as the big selling point for chromite.

The tragic bit is that it doesn’t have to be this way. Those same metals could support green energy projects, build advanced hospitals or connect the unconnected. That would generate an economic boon as well – just not as immediately lucrative as landing a colossal arms contract. And so the logic of short-term profit, peppered with the language of national security, prevails once again.

Yes, I’m a pacifist – but I don’t think that viewpoint blinds me to reality. On the contrary, it’s precisely because our reality includes existential threats like climate change that I find it baffling we’d prioritise forging better cannons over forging better solutions to keep this planet habitable for all. Extracting chromite, cobalt, or anything else is not inherently evil. It’s the purpose we assign it that raises eyebrows.

If you ask me, the best use for rare minerals is not in bombs or bulletproof hulls, but in building the shared prosperity we keep telling ourselves we’d like to see. The planet is small. Our challenges like climate chaos, pandemics, and growing inequality are BIG. And advanced weapons, no matter how sophisticated, aren’t going to hold back rising sea levels or defuse the next virus that emerges.

So here’s hoping that, at some point, the next big BBC documentary on any other mineral-rich country will highlight how that resource is fuelling hospitals, railways, and revolutionary green tech. How visionary entrepreneurs are scaling peaceful industries that employ people for constructive ends. Maybe that’s naive. But for all our talk of national security, humanity’s greatest security lies in a thriving, interconnected, sustainable world.

In the end, we’re stuck on this planet collectively, for better or worse. We share the same earth, air and water, and no ballistic missile can shoot down the consequences of our shared folly. Perhaps it’s high time we refocused our talents and resources on building the world we want to pass on, rather than perfecting ever more refined ways to smash it to pieces.