In the Trás-os-Montes village of Covas do Barroso, recognized for its World Agricultural Heritage, the prospect of an open-pit lithium mine has opened a deep wound in the community.

From the concrete threat to the land, water, and local way of life emerged a persistent resistance, made up both of neighbors who never imagined themselves as activists and of support networks that now extend across the country and internationally.

In this conversation, Elisabete Pires, a resident of the village and member of the association Unidos em Defesa de Covas do Barroso (UDCB), and Diogo Sobral, also from the association, explain how the struggle was organized, what is at stake with the mining project, and why they believe its impacts go far beyond the limits of the village.

Between a deep attachment to the land, technical and legal arguments, and collective mobilization, they argue that protecting Barroso is also about defending basic principles of environmental justice and democracy.

Photograph: Unidos em Defesa de Covas do Barroso

Can you tell us how the resistance in Covas do Barroso began?

Elisabete: It started around 2017, when we realised how serious the situation was. At first the Savannah project advanced very quietly and seemed harmless. No one told us what was really coming.

The alarm was raised when Professor Catarina Alves Scarrott discovered that in England the project was already being promoted as what would become Europe’s largest lithium mine.

We then tried to gather information, which was very difficult, and many people began to join us, both abroad and in Portugal.

That’s when we created the association, to gain better access to information and representation. We quickly understood the devastating impact this could have on our territory and kept asking for support. Over time more and more people joined the resistance, which continues to this day.

What exactly does the Savannah/Barroso Mine project involve — what type of extraction and which areas would be affected?

Diogo: Savannah’s project began in 2017 with the purchase of part of an existing quarry in Covas do Barroso and has since planned to expand and develop an open-pit industrial mine. Initially, the mine was expected to include nine pits—the excavation sites—but the current proposal foresees four pits, the deepest reaching around 250 meters.

The direct area of extraction is estimated at 70 hectares, equivalent to 70 football fields, although everything indicates that the company intends to expand the project over time. Extraction would require the installation of several infrastructures, such as tailings dams and processing facilities. The lithium concentration in the area is approximately 1%.

Which concrete environmental and social impacts worry the community most? Are there decisive studies or testimonies?

Diogo: The project primarily involves rock blasting using explosives, which directly affects the quality of life in nearby villages. Another major concern is water: the company estimates it will use around one million litres per day—an enormous amount in a country facing increasing water scarcity.

The existing environmental impact studies lack rigour, as they fail to consider effects such as the spread of contaminated dust. The impacts are not confined to the local area. For instance, an independent study by Professor Steven Emerman indicates that, in the event of a tailings dam collapse, toxic waste could reach the Douro River and then the Atlantic Ocean. This shows that the project’s effects extend far beyond the immediate territory.

In 2023 the environmental agency issued a conditionally favourable Environmental Impact Statement (EIS). How did you react and why was it so contested?

Elisabete: We felt it like a punch to the stomach delivered by the Portuguese state. We are talking about a territory recognized as a World Agricultural Heritage, and suddenly there is a plan to turn it into a landscape of pits and destruction. It is very hard to accept.

The main concern is water, which is already a scarce resource globally. This project could contaminate the Covas River, which flows into the Douro and then into the Atlantic, and it could also affect many high-quality water springs that currently supply the villages directly, without the need for pumps or engines. If the mining goes ahead, we fear that this water will become contaminated and even scarcer, due to the enormous level of consumption projected.

For us, this was a poorly made decision. So much so that the Public Prosecutor’s Office and other organizations identified flaws in the process and even called for the annulment of this favourable Environmental Impact Statement.

The Public Prosecutor’s Office and several organizations claimed there were flaws in the process and called for the annulment of the Environmental Impact Statement (EIS). What are the legal and technical arguments for demanding this annulment?

Diogo: The opinion issued by the Public Prosecutor’s Office brings together several of the main arguments against the project. From the outset, it points to incompatibilities and, above all, to a lack of rigour in the assessment of environmental impacts and risks. According to that opinion, accident forecasts and the proposed mitigation measures—for example, those intended to protect the region’s wolf packs—are weak and poorly substantiated.

Another important point is that these mining projects are being assessed in isolation. The cumulative effects of multiple mines in the same region—such as the Barroso mine and the Romano mine in Montalegre—are not being taken into account. This distorts the real perception of the total impact.

There is also the issue of the right to information and public participation. During the public consultation process, access to documents was made difficult and deadlines were shortened, which goes against the international obligations assumed by Portugal under the Aarhus Convention. The international committee responsible for monitoring compliance with that convention has already publicly criticised the Portuguese state for failing to properly guarantee the rights of affected communities.

In short, legal, technical, and democratic arguments all converge on the same conclusion: this Environmental Impact Statement lacks credibility, appears to respond more to political than to scientific criteria, and should therefore be annulled.

The European Commission recently labelled the project “strategic”. What changed and how is this seen locally?

Diogo: For now, it was mostly a symbolic gesture, but one with political weight. It’s a clear signal of institutional support from the European Union, sending a message to investors and the industry that this is a priority project. This can help speed up licensing and facilitate favourable decisions.

Locally, we received it with indignation. It seems to us that the European Union is increasingly less committed to environmental protection and more willing to sacrifice territories and communities in the name of economic and strategic objectives. The right of affected communities to say “no” is not being respected as an essential part of a healthy democratic process; our concerns are treated as obstacles to progress.

But no crisis can be resolved against the people or against democracy. This logic of forcibly putting everyone “on the same side” and accepting the sacrifice of entire communities is dangerous. Still, this status does not deter us: we continue to fight.

Elisabete: In the end, it’s always the same people who pay the price. The big players pollute and destroy, and the small ones are sacrificed in the name of supposed green energy. But cutting down trees and contaminating water to build a mine is not green energy, and it never will be.

What have been your biggest victories and defeats so far?

Elisabete: We haven’t had major victories, but we haven’t suffered major defeats either. It’s an uneven fight—like little fish against sharks—but we have managed to hold back progress.

They have said several times that extraction would begin “in a few years”: they mentioned 2020, then 2021, and now they point to 2028. This constant postponement shows that the resistance is making a difference. We live in a stalemate: the company tries to move forward, sometimes pushing legal boundaries, and then is forced to step back.

For us, it’s already a small victory to keep this distance between the project and its realization. Every year we gain is another opportunity for the mine never to open and for the project to eventually fall apart.

What actions have proved most effective?

Elisabete: The camp has been important for bringing people to Covas do Barroso. Those who come help in whatever way they can and then carry our struggle back to their own networks and communities. The demonstrations also gather many people and give us strength. At one point, we even blockaded machinery for months, always with constant support from outside.

In January 2025, we organized a hike up the hill—where they had already started digging, sometimes abusively—followed by a well-attended picnic with villagers and supporters from almost every district in the country. That support shows us that we are not alone and gives us the motivation to keep going.

The more people join, the better. Anyone who comes with good intentions is welcome to discover the village and be part of this struggle, which is not just about Covas do Barroso. What is at stake here will have impacts far beyond our land.

Diogo: There is no single decisive action. What makes the difference is pressure on multiple fronts at the same time. From citizen monitoring on the ground, to legal actions, to contesting narratives in the public space, creating content, presence in the media, fundraising, and social mobilization.

Our strength lies in our ability to bring many people together and make the struggle visible. We need support in terms of resources, presence in the village, and help to dismantle political narratives that legitimize projects like this. As Elisabete says, anyone who wants to make this struggle their own is welcome.

How can civil society support concretely?

Elisabete: The first step is to visit our village and see on the ground what is at risk. You can also watch the film we made about this situation. Then, in your own communities, you can organize discussions, bring groups together, share information, and help explain the issue in simple terms, dismantling the technical and distant discourse used to justify the mine.

Financial support is also important, because the struggle is fought on multiple legal and technical fronts, and we are a small community. We need everyone’s help.

Diogo: In the short term, we are preparing a public campaign focused on the annulment of the Environmental Impact Statement. We have gathered independent technical studies, including critical analyses of the air quality assessment. One of these studies highlights a lack of rigour: measurements were taken at only one location and over a short period, when the correct approach would be to measure at multiple points throughout an entire year to understand wind patterns and dust dispersion. Furthermore, the dusts most hazardous to health were not even considered.

These data, combined with many other critical opinions, reveal deep technical and democratic flaws. Our immediate goal is to inform and mobilize: to explain how the EIS was carried out, why it is not credible, and why it must be annulled.

Those who wish to support us can follow and share information on our social media, participate in actions, help disseminate these studies, and strengthen the solidarity network across the country.

How did you mobilise the local community?

Elisabete: It was immediate, because the destruction is literally at our doorstep. You just have to step outside to see what is already being done. Once we understood what was at stake, it was easy to bring people together. The hardest part is accepting the idea of losing everything that sustains our lives.

Here, everyone has work and a way of life connected to the land: farming, livestock, construction, caring for the elderly. This is not a land abandoned and waiting for jobs to come from elsewhere. It’s a living community.

In my case, I was born, grew up, got married, and have always lived here. If the project goes ahead, I would have to leave my own land—something I never imagined. The same is true for many of my neighbors. We want to maintain our peace, our space, and our way of life. That is what we feel they want to take from us. That’s why the mobilization was swift: because the threat is direct and personal.

How do you overcome the fears linked to direct action like camps or blockades?

Elisabete: Fear exists, and it is strong, because we are not activists by choice; we were pushed into it. We are peaceful people who just want to live quietly. But when we feel that our basic rights are being taken away, we have to find the courage.

Often, we feel that the company has all the rights and the community almost none. That is very hard. Even so, we continue, as long as we can. We hold onto hope and believe that we will prevail.

Diogo: Part of overcoming fear is learning to live with it. There are real concerns, such as potential legal costs or judicial consequences from acts of resistance. That burden is also a form of violence in this situation.

What allows us to move forward despite this is a deep conviction that we are doing what is right. That certainty ultimately speaks louder than the fear.