In a small village in Katanga, eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo, men and women dig with their bare hands in search of cobalt. They do so without machinery, without labor protections, and without knowing that the mineral they extract will be exported to Europe to power the electric mobility of the 21st century. This scene, repeated across the continent, is not an isolated anecdote: it is the hidden core of a global energy transition that has yet to learn the meaning of justice.
As an African journalist specialized in strategic communication and global affairs, I refuse to accept that the green future of the Global North must be built on the bent backs of the Global South. The current race for lithium, cobalt, and rare earths has turned Africa into the central board of a renewed geopolitical contest, where sustainability is still entangled with new forms of dispossession and dependency.
From Zimbabwe to Namibia, foreign investments are multiplying under promises of development. Yet while corporations sign contracts in Brussels, Beijing or Washington, our communities still await access to electricity, quality education, and basic labor conditions. The paradox is painful: the continent richest in strategic minerals remains the least benefited.
But this is not solely a story of victims. It is also a story of resistance. Women miners’ networks in Zambia, community cooperatives in Madagascar, and young environmental leaders in Mali are raising their voices. They denounce the lack of transparency in contracts, document abuses, and demand an energy transition that does not replicate the colonial logics of the past.
The African Union, the African Development Bank, and initiatives like the African Alliance for a Just Transition are beginning to articulate a new narrative—one that places climate justice at the center and insists that no sustainability is possible without sovereignty. Recent reports from the Natural Resource Governance Institute indicate that over 75% of profits from African lithium continue to leave the continent without generating added value, technology, or dignity.
This imbalance is not only economic—it is deeply narrative. Who tells the story of African lithium? In what languages, from which geographies, and through whose cameras is progress defined? As Africans, we must reclaim the right to tell our own story, to shape our models of development, and to determine our collective destiny.
Amnesty International and DW Akademie have rigorously documented the social consequences of this mining rush: child labor, forced displacements, and environmental degradation. In response, women like Amina, a 24-year-old activist in Kinshasa, organize grassroots workshops on labor rights within their mining communities. “We are not just poverty statistics,” she says. “We are guardians of a wealth the world needs—but it must respect us.”
Signs of change are emerging. Governments such as Botswana’s are renegotiating contracts under new legal frameworks that prioritize local benefit. Movements like “Afrika Vuka” are advancing a people-led energy transition. And committed journalists—from Nairobi to Abidjan—are dismantling the false promises of development without equity.
The challenge is enormous, but so is our resolve. Lithium diplomacy can no longer be decided without us. Africa is not merely a warehouse of minerals—it is a continent of ideas, of peoples, of dignity. In this energy battle, we must be more than suppliers. We must be authors.
Zanele Dlamini, South African senior correspondent at Phoenix24, covering African affairs, rights, and digital justice.