Conservation and Extraction: The New Face of Green Colonialism in West Africa

Whether you're in Paris, Montreal, or New York, this reality concerns you: in West Africa, the alliance between mining extraction and biodiversity conservation isn't a break from the past, but the continuation of a reinvented colonial pattern. Take Simandou in Guinea: this iron ore deposit, Africa's largest, is presented as the cornerstone of a "green steel revolution". Backed by Rio Tinto and Chinese investors, this $24 billion project promises to reduce carbon emissions. But look closer: this "greenness" spreads across mountainous forests of exceptional ecological richness, where large-scale extraction threatens endemic species and ancestral communities. 150 kilometers south, the Mount Nimba range, a natural jewel and UNESCO World Heritage site, is also coveted. A simple white rope separates the strict nature reserve, sanctuary to Western chimpanzees and unique toads, from the Ivanhoe Atlantic mining concession. Here, the World Bank bets on "forest-smart" mining practices, a model claiming to reconcile technological innovation with environmental responsibility. But behind this discourse lies a darker reality: the state often facilitates the expropriation of agricultural and indigenous lands, reclassified as mining concessions or forest reserves. This convergence is no accident. Since the International Council on Mining and Metals was created in 2001, the industry has adopted a language of sustainable development. As Rio Tinto's David Richards states, mining can be "part of the solution to biodiversity conservation". In exchange for legitimacy, companies fund ecological offset programs, like ArcelorMittal's in Liberia, implemented with Conservation International. These biodiversity offsets, promoted by the International Finance Corporation, allow extraction to continue while meeting environmental standards. But this alliance rests on a deeper logic: capitalism reinvents nature as capital, generating new accumulation opportunities. Environmental historian Archana Prasad emphasizes this: this dynamic relies on expropriation, restructuring relations between the Global North and South. African states often act in concert with transnational capital, aligning national development goals with the interests of their own bourgeoisie and the global economic elite. The result? A neoliberal conservation that, under the guise of sustainability, reserves more African land and biodiversity for external forces. World Heritage sites, recognized for their "outstanding universal value", are increasingly under pressure from extractive industries. Far from being contradictory, destructive extraction and the formal setting aside of land now operate hand in hand, enabling accumulation through dispossession and privatization. Thus, whether speaking of Simandou or Mount Nimba, the pattern is identical: "green" becomes an alibi for a new form of colonialism, where protecting nature serves to justify its exploitation. Our ecological and cultural heritage is thus transformed into a commodity, in a cycle perpetuating historical imbalances. The real question isn't whether extraction can be green, but for whom and at what price this greenness is negotiated.