Mining+Indigenism+Dysfunctional Govt: Fix the Problem, Move On

Mining in Mexico has always been a cocktail of riches and rupture. Today, the country finds itself suspended between two seemingly irreconcilable visions: on one side, the mining industry, desperate for stability and investment; on the other, Indigenous communities defending their ancestral territories not as real estate, but as sacred, biocultural landscapes. This article sketches out a pathway — less utopian and more overdue — toward reconciliation: a participatory mining model with real Indigenous ownership, inspired by successful examples from Canada, New Zealand, and Norway. Spoiler: It’s entirely doable, if we stop pretending otherwise.

Two Mexicos, One Battleground

Recently, two media headlines encapsulated the madness. On one side, the Mexican Mining Chamber (CAMIMEX) proudly announced over US$5 billion in projected mining investment for 2025. Government officials celebrated this figure as a sign of economic vitality, even establishing an educational committee to foster mining innovation and self-sufficiency.

Meanwhile, the Wixárika Regional Council demanded the immediate cancellation of all mining concessions in Wirikuta — a territory UNESCO had just recognized as a World Heritage Site. The message was unambiguous: no mining here, not even the "green" kind.

And the Mexican government? Like a half-awake referee at a bar fight, it applauded both sides. Innovation in the morning, sacred territory protection by lunchtime. If that’s governance, I’m a Norwegian oil tycoon.

Can we reconcile the irreconcilable?

Yes. But only if we stop treating Indigenous demands as sentimental relics and start treating them as sovereign positions.

To Indigenous peoples, territory is not a mineral deposit, it is a living entity, layered with spirituality, memory, and meaning. Reconciling this with a profit-driven industry won’t happen through lip-service consultations. It requires legally binding frameworks, territorial exclusion zones where mining simply isn’t allowed, and co-ownership models where Indigenous communities hold real shares and decision-making power.

It’s not that complicated. But it does require giving up the fantasy that development can happen without consent, and that corporate social responsibility stickers are an acceptable substitute for actual justice.

A Government Split in Two (and Falling Apart Anyway)

If reconciliation is difficult, Mexico’s federal government makes it practically absurd. The Ministry of Economy pushes forward with technological modernization and capacity-building for the mining sector. Simultaneously, the president’s office has frozen new concessions in the name of environmental stewardship.

This is not strategic ambiguity, it’s institutional schizophrenia. Policy signals contradict one another, legal certainty vanishes, and stakeholders lose patience.

Mexico’s government behaves less like a mediator and more like a confused bystander, cheering both teams in a match it refuses to referee. To truly govern, it must establish clear rules, enforceable boundaries, and create an autonomous institutional space where decisions aren’t made according to electoral mood swings or X (aka Twitter) trends.

Where Indigenous Peoples Own the Mines (and Nobody Exploded)

What seems impossible in Mexico is already happening elsewhere. In Canada, the Tahltan Nation holds equity in mining operations and exercises cultural veto power over land use. In New Zealand, Māori iwi run diversified investment trusts that include mining, guided by kaitiakitanga — an environmental ethos that puts long-term stewardship over short-term profit.

Australia has its own model: Native Title Agreements that grant Aboriginal communities negotiated rights and benefits. Are these models flawless? Hardly. But they’re miles ahead of Mexico, where Indigenous peoples are still fighting for the right to be consulted, let alone included.

What makes these models work?

It’s not corporate charity, or cultural purity. It’s institutional design.

In Canada, Indigenous land rights are recognized in law, making consultation and negotiation a legal requirement, not a PR exercise. Communities have built technical capacity by training lawyers, engineers, geologists, and economists from within.

Autonomy doesn’t descend from the heavens,  it is constructed through governance, education, and access to capital. And most importantly, there are areas where mining is simply off-limits because the community says so. Period. No boardroom can override a sacred mountain.

Do Non-Indigenous People Benefit, too? Yes, Shockingly

The myth that Indigenous participation is a tax on growth needs to be retired. Participatory models result in fewer lawsuits, fewer blockades, and fewer costly delays. Infrastructure improves. Employment expands. Public services get a boost. Investors love predictability, and Indigenous consent offers just that.

In short, inclusive mining is not just morally sound, it’s economically smarter. Shocking, I know.

What Mexico Is Losing by Refusing to Change

Estimates suggest that Mexico loses between US$1.2 and US$1.5 billion annually by clinging to its outdated, conflict-ridden mining framework. This includes canceled projects, stalled investments, unresolved litigation, and reputational damage.

But there’s a deeper loss: legitimacy. Every time a concession is imposed without consent, trust in public institutions erodes. And a state without legitimacy can’t govern. It can only improvise.

A Blueprint for Mexico

Our Think-Tank proposes a National Model for Participatory and Biocultural Mining (MPBM), built on five pillars:

1. Co-ownership: Indigenous communities hold shares and voting rights in mining projects.

2. Biocultural territory: Legal recognition that land is not just dirt, it’s culture, memory, and ecology.

3. Binding consultations: No project moves forward without formal, informed Indigenous consent.

4. Shared governance: Creation of a National Indigenous Mining Council with regulatory teeth.

5. Pre-funded remediation: Environmental repair budgets must be secured before the first rock is moved.

It’s not a revolution. It’s just what any reasonable country would do if it wanted to avoid lawsuits, uprisings, and international embarrassment.

Norway Did It Better. We Should Steal Their Homework

While Mexico struggles to draft mining permits that don’t immediately trigger lawsuits, Norway created the Government Pension Fund Global, a sovereign wealth fund built from oil revenues. It invests globally, operates transparently, and benefits current and future generations alike.

Mexico could establish its own Biocultural Generations Fund (BGF), fed by royalties from mining in Indigenous territories. Legally insulated from political meddling, it would finance education, infrastructure, ecological restoration, and cultural preservation.

Imagine a mining project that leaves behind not just a hole in the ground, but an investment in the future. Radical, right?

Mining doesn’t have to be a synonym for dispossession. But transforming it into a vehicle for justice requires more than rhetoric. It requires architecture — legal, institutional, and financial.

Mexico stands at a crossroads. It can continue with a mining model built for the 19th century, peppered with 21st-century hashtags. Or it can embrace a future where Indigenous peoples are not obstacles to progress but co-authors of it.

The question is no longer whether we have enough gold in the ground. It’s whether we have enough imagination — and courage — to change the rules of the game.

And if not now, when?