Brown: Hungry tech sector will force tough choices over critical minerals

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In January 1913, workmen expanded the basement of a 900-seat downtown theater in Hibbing, Minn., to build an ornate smoking lounge for a higher class of patrons. Twelve feet down, their shovels struck a soft, dark material that resembled the rich hematite iron ore being mined half a mile away.

The proprietor, a raconteur named W.J. Power, desperately wanted to save vaudeville from the scourge of motion pictures. But he was also a longtime mining speculator. He knew what he saw. With his theatrical investment in mind, he told the Hibbing Daily Tribune that rumors were overblown, that they only found “discolored quicksand.”

By summer, the dazzling Power Theater re-opened with a nationally celebrated Catholic boys choir singing in front of a full orchestra. And yet, within just five years, the theater was demolished. U.S. Steel had quietly secured the mineral rights years earlier. When World War I depleted existing reserves, the company cleared Hibbing’s entire business district and moved the town 2 miles south to create the world’s largest iron mine.

No one could have stopped what was coming out of that mine, for what emerged was the primal steel of modern America. From this yawning canyon spewed the richest economy on Earth and decisive victory in World War II. The disruption was undeniable, but the spoils irresistible to a nation hell-bent on progress. Iron Range communities would remain dependent on mining revenue for generations unto the present.

Today, Hibbing Taconite still blasts where the old town once stood, but the mine is poised to run out of ore within a few years. Over a century, automation, consolidation and bigger equipment eliminated thousands of mining jobs, with autonomous trucks idling on the distant horizon. Last May, Cleveland-Cliffs laid off 630 workers in Hibbing and Virginia, Minn., with only dim prospects of a callback. Locals fear another industry contraction.

Some hope that a 21^st century tech boom will fuel another transformation for aging mining towns, while others fear the consequences. Minnesotans should know what they’re getting into. This kind of change throws people and places like dice.

“Critical minerals” refers to mined material that might be short in supply, high in demand, or whose supply chains might be threatened.

Rare earth elements are 17 specific critical minerals with high tech applications. The Trump administration has announced several deals to acquire these elusive commodities in recent months, including agreements with Australia and Japan within the past few weeks.

“Rare earths, they’re not rare,” said Ernest Scheyder, author of “The War Below: Lithium, Copper and the Global Battle to Power Our Lives.” “What’s rare is to find them in economical quantities.”

China processes a vast majority of the rare earth elements used around the world, in part because doing so is an environmentally fraught, expensive proposition made easier by an authoritarian government. This strategic decision made years ago now gives China extraordinary leverage in diplomatic and trade negotiations. The rest of the world now realizes it needs to catch up in both rare earth and critical mineral production.

“What Cliffs is doing is realizing that, sure, it’s got a core business with steel. But as it produces the building blocks for steel can it also get rare earths?” said Scheyder.

In “The War Below,” Scheyder spends a chapter exploring critical mineral mining proposals in Minnesota.

“The more that we engage with each other, with our elected officials, with the companies that make the products we use every single day, I think we’re going to get to a better sense of consensus around this,” said Scheyder.

Last month, I visited Talon Metals, a proposed nickel mine in Aitkin County. The corporate headquarters is an old house in Tamarack, Minn., located across a narrow street from a shop where core samples are tested and stored. Staff members have been caring for a friendly stray cat that appeared to have run of the facility. This sort of informality is the hallmark of a junior mining company trying to win permits.

Like most mining projects in Minnesota, Talon has generated local support and opposition. But the mine is distinct from other proposals located in historic iron mining communities like Hoyt Lakes and Ely.

In early plans, the mine resembled ones we’ve seen before, with overburden piles exposed to rainwater that would gradually leach chemicals. Last year, the mine redesigned its plans so that everything from the trucks emerging from underground to the trains that haul off the ore remain enclosed indoors. Waste rock is distributed back underground, greatly reducing environmental risk.

“What our team hopes is that we show we are actively listening,” said Jessica Johnson, the company’s vice president of external affairs. “That might not be enough for everybody, but we hope people see we’re trying.”

Trying is important. The public needs that from mining companies as much as they do the minerals.

Right now, the demand for critical minerals is rising with a technological tsunami of renewable energy, artificial intelligence and ever-more-sophisticated electronics. Scheyder said his research shows only three ways forward.

“Either the United States or other nations have concrete discussions about how we get more of these minerals, or we recycle more, or we use less,” said Scheyder. “It seems like some kind of mix of all three is the way we’ll move forward here.”

“Ore is not the handiwork of mankind, or of his genius, but the act of Providence,” bellowed Vic Power at a Labor Day address. “We found the iron land of Minnesota controlled by the millionaires of New York City. We sought to correct a condition for society.”

One hundred and ten years later, our moment requires a lot of honest conversation about what mining gives and what it takes away. The discovery of ore is not the end but the beginning of a negotiation over how the public will benefit from the mine being there.

Mining might not always be the right solution in every place where ore is found. Mining proposals are often puffed up to goose stock prices and generate political support. But neither should we ignore responsible proposals that fill serious demand. If recycling or conservation sound better, then we’re going to have to seriously invest in those things, which come with different tradeoffs.

Growing up on the Iron Range and researching its history for the last two decades taught me something that all mining communities learn to understand in time.

When a mine opens, it screams until the air runs out. They all fall silent in the end, leaving us with nothing but what we built for the future.