Not for the first time, environmentalists with a (worthy) focus on local land use issues are at odds with mining projects that appear critical to the development of clean energy and climate solutions. A recent story on a major proposed lithium mine in Nevada, excerpted here, gives the gist of this unfortunate conflict between two environmental priorities that may clash in the permitting process:
In less than half a day, you could walk all the way around the 10 acres the endemic species Tiehm’s buckwheat calls home in the Silver Peak Range of Nevada, where the small wildflower with yellow pom-poms grows in part thanks to the soil beneath it being filled with lithium and boron.
Those two minerals have attracted the attention of Ioneer LLC, a mining company, which if permitted to begin construction would destroy 22 percent of Tiehm’s buckwheat’s critical habit while degrading 100 percent of the flower’s range via dust from construction, the disruption of pollinating insects and the introduction of more invasive plant species to the area, according to a report sent to the Bureau of Land Management by environmental groups and scientists fighting to save the species from the proposed mine. The BLM is overseeing the permitting of the project given its location on public lands owned by the federal government. . . .
The coalition’s review comes as the public comment period for the draft environmental impact statement for the Rhyolite Ridge mine comes to a close and is the latest in a years-long push to save Tiehm’s buckwheat. In 2017, Ioneer proposed mining the area, particularly for lithium, the metal critical for the energy transition needed for the batteries essential for electric vehicles and storing energy from solar and wind farms being built at scale around the country.
In a statement, Ioneer said the mine’s plan “ensures there will be no direct impacts to Tiehm’s buckwheat subpopulations” on the 10 acres of land where Tiehm’s buckwheat is currently located and “minimized and mitigated for indirect impacts within the plant’s critical habitat”— land protected under the Endangered Species Act where the wildflower could eventually grow. The species has seen steep population declines since the mine was first proposed, due to rodents eating them, according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, though environmentalists dispute that.
However, Ioneer conceded the mine “will eventually incur into roughly 21.6% of the critical habitat—but 10% will be impacted during the project’s first ten years.” The company claims it will revegetate the disturbed land with native plants, including replanting Tiehm’s buckwheat, and has spent millions of dollars in conservation efforts for the endangered species and will continue to do so.
“Ioneer strongly believes Tiehm’s buckwheat can and will safely coexist alongside our operations,” said Chad Yeftich, Ioneer’s vice president of corporate development and external affairs.
From the get-go, the project drew scrutiny from environmentalists hoping to protect the wildflower, which led the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to list the plant as endangered in late 2022 following a lawsuit and a public campaign supporting listing the species. Despite the listing under the Endangered Species Act, intended to prevent the species’ extinction, Tiehm’s buckwheat continued to face threats to its habitat from cattle grazing and Ioneer, which trespassed onto the wildflower’s protected habitat.
Through it all, the proposed mine has continued to move forward. The Australian mining company has secured agreements to provide lithium to automotive companies, including Toyota and Ford Motor Company, and last year received a loan of $700 million from the Department of Energy contingent on it passing its environmental review, something Donnelly said was the equivalent of the federal agency putting “their thumbs on the scale with the permitting process.”
The project is estimated to hold enough lithium for nearly 370,000 electric vehicles each year.
The story of Rhyolite Ridge has become one of the biggest fights on how the renewable energy transition can impact intact landscapes and protected species, an issue of growing concern as the Biden administration attempts to confront climate change.
“Our public lands have an important role to play in powering the economy of the future,” said BLM Director Tracy Stone-Manning when the draft environmental impact statement for the project was released in April. “Under President Biden’s leadership, BLM continues to support the development of critical minerals to power electric vehicles, renewable energy, new technologies, and critical infrastructure.” . . .
@Jonathan Marshall thank you for highlighting this article. Indeed, there is concern among environmentalists about a number of renewable and transmission projects in Nevada (a state where 87% of the land is public). Large scale solar threatens habitat, transmission development disturbs land and paves the way for cheatgrass (which fuels fires), geothermal and pumped hydro storage both have a water footprint. The electric utility reportedly hid data to route a major interstate transmission line across the border of a national monument rather than choosing a more expensive route that avoided the monument. And many Nevadans are skeptical since we have a perception that people elsewhere view our desert lands as wastelands and the federal government has spent decades trying to foist a nuclear waste storage site on us over the objections of the population. This can make it tricky for CCL to work with groups that we may be aligned with on other environmental issues, but who now are opposing most renewable, critical mineral and transmission development. There often is no perfect answer with the large task of transition to a renewable economy.
@Joanne Leovy Here is a controversial recent column by the Los Angeles Times' climate writer Sammy Roth, on the same issue of environmental/climate tradeoffs: “Why razing Joshua trees for solar farms isn’t always crazy.” An excerpt:
. . . The desert Southwest is home to some of the nation’s sunniest terrain, much of it within power-line distance of L.A., Phoenix, Las Vegas and other electricity-hungry cities. Some of the world’s biggest solar farms and battery storage projects have been built on those lands over the last decade, with President Biden hurrying to approve more. In April, the Biden administration announced it had achieved a congressional mandate to approve 25 gigawatts of renewable energy on public lands by 2025.
There are places to build solar projects besides pristine ecosystems. But there’s no get-out-of-climate-change-free card.
Want to take water-stressed agricultural lands out of production and replace crops with solar panels? Some farmers will take the deal, but their neighbors might fight like hell to stop you. What about private lands in the desert, just outside rural towns? Turns out a lot of people don’t want to live near industrial facilities. And God forbid you should try to build a solar project near “Double Negative,” landscape artist Michael Heizer’s outdoor installation in southern Nevada. Art lovers helped defeat that one.
Not all of those arguments are equally valid, in my view. But they all exist. They’re all being used to block climate-friendly energy development and keep humanity hooked to planet-wrecking fossil fuels. Pretending otherwise is a recipe for disaster.
Hence the need to accept killing some Joshua trees in the name of saving more Joshua trees.
I feel kind of terrible saying that, because I love Yucca brevifolia. I lived in Palm Springs for several years and fell in love with the desert by way of hiking and camping trips to Joshua Tree National Park, Death Valley and Mecca Hills Wilderness.
But I’ve spent 10 years reporting on energy and found it impossible to reach any other conclusion.
I’m not saying nothing matters except carbon. Paving over Joshua Tree National Park would be a terrible idea.
What we need is compromise. As I’ve written previously, conservation groups, solar companies and government agencies should keep working on good-faith efforts — much more quickly, please — that would hasten renewable energy development while also protecting 30% of U.S. lands and waters by 2030 and 50% by 2050, goals that scientists say are crucial for biodiversity.
We choose to do these things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. It’s easy to say, “Don’t kill Joshua trees; build solar farms somewhere else; fix the climate some other way.” It’s hard to say: “Making up for our past mistakes requires sacrifice; this is a burden we must bear.” It’s even harder when the past mistakes weren’t so much “ours” as they were ExxonMobil’s.
But this is the reality we face. This is our moon shot.
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