KORONADAL, Philippines: The rough, juddering road to Tampakan is flanked by languid dogs and animated roosters, modest breeze-block houses and burning coconut husks.

Small streams cut the path and signs warn of the risks of landslides in these mountains of upland Mindanao in the Philippines.

There are eyes on the road too. Local men in uniforms run security along the ancestral domain now in the hands of a mining company about which little is known.

For decades, the promise of mining has hovered over this mountain.

Tampakan municipality is the home of the indigenous Blaan tribe. It also holds the largest untapped copper-gold reserve in Southeast Asia, with roughly three billion tonnes of ore that could be worth tens or even hundreds of billions of dollars in raw commodity terms.

The Philippines is trying to position itself as an important player in the electric vehicle supply chain, and its vast resources of copper could be crucial for the region’s green transition.

To reach the goal, however, places like Tampakan could be ripped up in the name of extraction.

As global demand for copper surges – for EVs, charging stations, data centres, power grids and renewable energy infrastructure – the stakes have never been higher.

The Tampakan mining project has already resulted in a mountain divided.

Long stalled by shifting regulations and local and environmental opposition, it is back in play after the Philippine government lifted a nine-year open-pit mining ban in 2021.

On paper, it could be fully operational over the next year or two. In reality, it remains stalled, locked in dispute.

Still, the signs of activity are visible: Company-installed warning tape cuts through cornfields, and residents say they have been warned not to enter areas they once considered their own – land now under 25-year leases to Sagittarius Mines, Inc. (SMI).

For Nora Puli Sukal, a tribe leader, the land is sacred ground.

Her family home lies near the highest point of the mountain while below, rice fields are fed by rivers. She is holding out, refusing to sign over her land to SMI, unlike many in the community who have done so in recent years.

“This is the only memory left of our parents … and of our ancestors. This is all that remains. That is why it is important to me that we don’t lose this,” she said.

She speaks of the sounds of birds and streams, the cold and fog of the early mornings.

But change looms in the form of the barbed-wire fences, idle diggers and the outsiders who want to excavate what lies underground.

THE RED METAL

Copper is a highly prized metal. With global deficits of the red metal, huge reserves like those in Tampakan are poised to be even more lucrative.

Its price has roughly doubled over the past decade, with recent all-time highs reflecting a combination of growing demand tied to the transition to cleaner energy and concerns about supply disruptions.

“Copper is getting really hot,” said Duo Fu, vice-president of battery market research at Rystad Energy, an independent energy research and business intelligence firm.

Roughly 900,000 tonnes of new copper capacity must be added every year just to slow the widening shortfall, according to analysis from consulting firm Wood Mackenzie.

Energy‑transition demand for copper is expected to double by 2040, making it one of the most indispensable materials for a decarbonised economy, said its head of copper research, Charles Cooper.

Electric vehicles, for instance, are replacing fossil fuel-powered vehicles in many countries. Each EV uses up to four times more copper than a conventional car, “reshaping long‑term demand as the world embraces EVs”, Cooper said. An electric bus or truck could have up to four times as much copper in its build than an electric car.

In EVs, copper is used in motor windings, battery connections, high-voltage cables, wiring for electronics and internal circuitry. Fast-charging infrastructure is also especially copper-intensive.

Copper demand from EVs is expected to rise from around 6 per cent of total copper consumption last year to 12 per cent by 2040, Cooper said.

Beyond vehicles, there is surging investment in power grid upgrades, renewable energy build‑outs, AI‑driven data centres and digital infrastructure, all of which require copper.

“The copper market is perennially in deficit when you look a decade out. Even with sustained investment, keeping pace with demand is a Sisyphean task: As you build capacity, the hill gets steeper,” he said.

Southeast Asia is a key player in critical copper supply chains, led by Indonesia, which accounted for about 4.5 per cent of global mined copper production in 2024.

“Billions of dollars in new smelting investment are transforming it into a full‑spectrum copper powerhouse,” Cooper said of Indonesia.

The Philippine government, too, wants a stake in the copper race.

From 2021, under former President Rodrigo Duterte, mining was increasingly framed as essential to the country’s economic recovery from the global pandemic, to attract foreign investment and to getting the Philippines more active in the global energy transition.

The current administration of President Ferdinand Marcos Jr has positioned the Philippines as a potential supplier of critical minerals for the clean-energy transition.

Officials have also pushed for investment in local processing to capture more value from minerals and create jobs.

In speeches last year, Marcos urged miners to help make the country a reliable source of materials including nickel and copper, while insisting that extraction must meet strict environmental and social standards.

“Mining has long been a great part of our nation’s story. From the gold veins of Baguio, to the copper deposits of Cebu, to the nickel belts in Mindanao — these resources have provided livelihoods and shaped communities throughout the years,” he said at the Mining Philippines 2025 International Conference and Exhibition.

“Today, mining goes beyond just extraction. Minerals are vital to electric vehicles, batteries (and) new technologies that promote clean energy. To be given this much potential is both a blessing and a responsibility,” he said.

It is also a steep challenge, Fu said, given the country’s complex permit regulations and issues with environmental standards, finances and project management.

Rystad data shows that although the Philippines has large copper reserves, 92 per cent of it does not have a permit to be mined.

The long process of getting mines operational, such as in the case of Tampakan, also increases the chances of a project suffering from price volatility, swings in domestic policies and exposure to inflation, Fu said.

“Any sort of mismanagement could cause catastrophic failure for the overall project. That is partially because of the length (of time) that it takes to develop the mines. It’s normally around eight to 15 years. And within this (period), there are a lot of uncertainties,” he said.

The Philippines remains primarily an extractor and exporter of raw materials, not a processor or manufacturer, reducing the value of its metals.

Francisco Magno, director of the De La Salle University Jesse M. Robredo Institute of Governance said the country needs to develop an industry roadmap to take advantage of its resources.

“We need to have a broader perspective that we are not just supplying raw minerals but we actually benefit from downstream processes,” he said, which might include smelting, refining and manufacturing.

“The overwhelming narrative is that we need to generate revenues. We need to generate growth. But we also need to emphasise that this is about local community development, social protection and environmental sustainability,” he said.

In Tampakan, those priorities have been in tension for decades.

WATERSHED MOMENTS

The Tampakan deposits were first identified back in the early 1990s by Western Mining Corporation, an Australian company.

At the time, the Philippines had just begun reopening its mining sector to foreign investment after years of decline. The government was actively seeking large-scale investors to revive mineral development.

In 1995, the Philippines passed the Philippine Mining Act, which allowed 100 per cent foreign-owned companies to operate large projects. Tampakan was among the highest profile projects to fall under the scheme.

Its project area covered around 10,000 hectares in South Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, and Davao del Sur, provinces in southern Mindanao. Development costs were estimated at nearly US$6 billion, making it one of Southeast Asia’s largest proposed mining investments.

At its peak, it was estimated to generate 375,000 tonnes of copper a year, as well as substantial amounts of gold. Its estimated three billion tonnes of ore refers to the amount in the ground rather than refined metal, and much of it would take years and billions of dollars to extract.

Opposition to the mine soon grew as more feasibility studies were done, centred around key issues like open-pit mining in a mountainous watershed, risks to farms and water systems downstream, indigenous land rights and militarisation and conflict in the area.

Small creeks around the site feed larger rivers that flow toward agricultural land and irrigation systems that support farms across Mindanao, as well as providing drinking water sources for a large population.

If sulfide-bearing rock is exposed and generates acid mine drainage, critics say heavy metals such as arsenic could leach into water systems.

SMI has previously said modern engineering and environmental safeguards can mitigate these risks, though it declined to be interviewed for this story.

“They will leave a problem of acid mine drainage there in the open pit, in the waste rock facility, in the tailings ponds. It’s a permanent footprint. It’s a perpetual footprint,” said Bishop Cirilo Casicas of the Diocese of Marbel in South Cotabato. The Catholic Church has been an active voice against the mine for many years.

Rene Pamplona, the programme coordinator of civil society organisation Convergence of Initiatives for Environmental Justice (CIEJ) and the national chair of Alyansa Tigil Mina – the Alliance Against Mining in the Philippines – has also long campaigned against the project and aims to prevent Tampakan from operating.

“We will not allow them to turn even a single stone in our mountains. To the last man and to the last drop of blood that we have, we’ll engage them on the ground or in the technical and legal arena. So, that is how important it is,” he said.

Ownership of the project – under the umbrella of the developer SMI – has shifted several times; finally, when Australian firm Glencore withdrew in 2015 citing regulatory uncertainty, it came under the control of Indophil Resources Philippines, linked to the Sy family, one of the Philippines’ most powerful business families.

Reports emerged in 2024 that Chinalco, a Chinese state-owned metals giant, was considering a stake in the project’s holding structure, reportedly valued around US$2 billion. No deal has been publicly confirmed.

Despite the lack of clarity over ownership, at the mining site, SMI signs and infrastructure suggest the project appears imminent.

Yet even with approval from the national government to proceed, locally, the mine remains heavily contested and deeply divisive.

Tampakan could anchor a generation’s worth of highly valuable, sought-after copper. It could potentially open up the industry to more exploration, something Pamplona said he fears.

“If you open Tampakan, nothing will stop other mining areas from operating as well,” he said.

“We have to defend our last frontier. We have to defend our watershed. We have to defend our life support system in this region.”

LOCAL FAULT LINES

Sukal said cracks have already emerged within the tribe.

“At first, we were united. But later on, slowly, we became divided, because it was money versus no money. We were divided and ruled. Your sibling becomes your opponent,” she said.

In the community now, she is a rare dissenting voice against the mining project. She said that most of her family members and Indigenous leaders have given SMI the green light, largely on the promise of job creation and economic development.

Tampakan mayor Leonard Escobillo said that before his time in office, he pushed for the project. Now that he feels a responsibility to the community, he said: “We have to protect ourselves, even from ourselves.”

He respects the mining industry but wants the details, benefits and contingency plans laid out clearly before any local permits are given. But he said he has not once been able to contact or have a conversation with SMI.

“I’m not against mining. I’m just a father who is trying to look at a small town in which half of the area will be utilised by one industry. And if you put yourself in my shoes, you have a difficulty of balancing these things,” he said.

Meanwhile, the issue continues to unite activists, religious leaders and local government officials alike, with fears among some that the “re-branding” of metals like copper for the green transition is being used as a shield for unsustainable extraction.

“I’m not saying we don’t need copper. But there should be limits. At what cost? In what ways? In what places do we get it? These are things that we should consider,” said Bishop Casicas.

“CAN’T MINE OUR WAY OUT OF CLIMATE CRISIS”

International non-governmental organisations are also watching the ways governments and companies are pushing for new mining projects in sensitive environments and where communities oppose them.

Ellen Moore, the mining programme director at Earthworks, a US-based non-profit focused on environmental sustainability, said its commissioned research demonstrates the potential for re-use and recycling of minerals and greater materials efficiency to dramatically reduce demand for new mining.

Such recycling systems could significantly offset demand for newly mined metals for electric vehicle batteries, she said.

“Demand for newly mined minerals is not fixed. We can’t build sustainable electric vehicles with dirty sourcing. We can’t repeat the injustices of the dirty fossil fuel era, and we can’t mine our way out of the climate crisis”.

Last year, Lead the Charge, a coalition of environmental, labour and human rights groups advocating for a more equitable and fossil-free auto supply chain, evaluated major automakers on their performance across environmental impacts, human rights and Indigenous Peoples’ rights.

It found that while parts of the electric vehicle industry were beginning to adopt stronger policies on supply chains and responsible sourcing, progress remained uneven.

Some companies have introduced commitments on issues such as mineral sourcing and labour standards, but the report concluded that implementation and enforcement continue to lag behind stated ambitions.

Consumer pressure on EV companies to source copper sustainably could be a useful tool, said Emily Iona Stewart, head of policy and advocacy at Global Witness, an international NGO that investigates environmental and human rights abuses.

But she said a more troubling trend is how these minerals are increasingly being caught up in broader geopolitics and directed towards industries like AI and defence, rather than green technologies.

“At least when they had this altruistic end use, consumers and end companies would be more interested in doing supply chain due diligence and asking those actors who were further upstream to ensure that they had high standards,” she said.

“While an EV consumer might ask about the origins of the material in their car, nobody’s asking whether the minerals in a bomb are fair trade.”

China’s dominance in both the critical minerals race and the development of EVs and other renewable technologies mean it is central to how the industry develops, experts said.

Nickel ore, one of the Philippines’ largest mineral exports and a key material for EV battery materials, is overwhelmingly shipped to China. United Nations export tracking data between 2020 and late 2024 showed that roughly 90 per cent of Philippine nickel ore exports were bound for Chinese ports.

Much of Tampakan’s copper concentrate would likely be exported to smelters in the region, including China.

There are already signs that some Chinese companies are beginning to adjust their environmental practices in response to rising scrutiny, said Iona Stewart.

One major driver has been the European Union’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM), which will impose carbon costs on certain imported goods based on how they are produced.

While the initial rollout focuses on sectors such as steel, aluminium and cement, the broader signal is clear: Carbon intensity and environmental standards are becoming trade issues and EV companies will be no exception.

“Internally in China, they actually have some pretty good environmental laws on the books that have been developed over the last decade or so, including around mining,” she said.

“China really ought to externalise them, and hold Chinese-registered companies overseas to the same standards.”

For Sukal, the damage seen at mining sites elsewhere serves as a cautionary tale.