Editors’ note: This article is published in a six-part series. You can read the entire series here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, and Part 6.

International corporate invasion and the resistance against lithium mining

In Bosnia, the quantities of minerals underground are often listed in the millions of tons. There are an estimated 1.5 million tons of lithium carbonate, 94 million tons of magnesium sulfate, and 17 million tons of boron located under the hills of Majevica. The municipal seat of the mountainous region of Majevica, Lopare, is less than a couple hours’ drive east of Petrovo, an important municipality on Ozren. On the European Union’s Critical Raw Materials list, the three minerals mentioned above are all identified as not just “critical,” but as “strategic” resources. Given that the EU depends on China for 97% of its magnesium imports, for example—and that there is a rapidly growing demand for lithium—it is inevitable that international mining companies will home in on Majevica and other sources on Europe’s periphery. The EU’s directive to reduce its dependence on China compels that move. 

Thus in recent years, the Swiss mining company Arcore AG conducted explorations on Majevica in a bid to begin mineral extraction. Representatives of Arcore claimed that they “conducted the search in accordance with the highest geological and environmental standards, strictly adhering to regulations, and therefore met all the requirements to apply for the concession.” However, observers of the results of lithium mining around the world assert that there is, in fact, no such thing as safe lithium mining. One analyst commented that “sustainable [lithium] mining does not exist, since it is a contradiction to talk about caring for nature and at the same time extracting lithium on a large scale.” 

Ratko Ristić reinforces this position. The Belgrade University forestry professor notes that “most of these mineral resources that they would exploit here are also available in the EU. However, they don’t want to do it in the EU because they value the health of their people and preserve their environment.” Ristić adds, “They see the Balkans as a cheap resource base, and what prevails is that they count on the weakness of political systems here, the corruption of so-called political elites, and very low environmental protection standards.” Ristić concludes that there is no such thing as “green mining.”

Residents of Majevica are worried that their lands will be covered with toxic dust from the mining. Widespread sentiment strongly opposes excavation of their healthy green hills. Some locals are warning that they will “physically defend” their land. In response to the environmental threat, in 2023 local activists formed an association, Čuvari Majevice (Guardians of Majevica) to organize resistance to the mining. 

In October of 2024, I met Andrijana Pekić, a schoolteacher and one of the lead organizers of the resistance. Andrijana grew up in Lopare, and now teaches both in the nearby city of Ugljevik and in a village outside of Lopare. She teaches in two schools because neither has enough students to fulfill the requirement for full-time employment. By way of introduction to the natural beauty of Majevica, Andrijana drove me up to a viewpoint and visitor center called “Eko izletište Viva Natura Busija.” The name of the “Eco-park” is often shortened to the colloquial “Busija,” an archaic word for a place that holds personal meaning for someone.

As we drove into Majevica, Andrijana described to me the riches of traditional life in that hilly region. There has been a monastery on Majevica for centuries; a restored church building at that location is at least 200 years old. There are mineral springs. Farmers grow plums and strawberries, and they produce honey and smoked cheese. Andrijana told me that “anywhere you plant, something will grow there.” 

Following along roads that were rather better-developed than those on Ozren, while the hills were somewhat gentler, we arrived at Busija. There Svetozar Ostojić, an affluent local businessman, had received a concession to develop a relatively remote part of the mountain. Over ten years, he converted an undeveloped fire road into a paved street that leads to a guest house, a picnic area, and some recreational installations in the making. From an altitude of 840 meters, one lookout affords an outstanding view in several directions. The air where we were standing was purer than it was anyplace that we saw in the distance. To the west we saw Tuzla “like in the palm of your hand,” as they say in the local language. And to the northeast we spied Bijeljina, the second-largest city in the Republika Srpska.

Mr. Ostojić holds to a rustic aesthetic that requires all structures in his park to be built of wood or stone. Located in a large expanse of oak and beech woods, the park contains a restaurant, outbuildings, and a new artificial pond with fish already present. Ostojić’s plans are ambitious; he reckons that the work is only about 15% finished, and that ultimately there will be a hotel and additional recreational facilities. Regardless of their background, developers of touristic facilities must be quite open to inter-ethnic cooperation. The meandering inter-entity boundary created by the 1990s war is such that in spite of political divisions, the beautiful “ethno-parks” of Bosnia-Herzegovina are often situated a stone’s throw from the neighboring entity. There is a natural familiarity between Tuzla and Majevica, the latter being a traditional place of recreation for the city dwellers. The war only created a temporary division; Mr. Ostojić has recognized the regional connection by participating in the development of a ski path that crosses the entity boundary. 

Lopare: Municipal center of Majevica and ground zero for lithium prospecting

Moving on from Busija to Lopare, we passed ancient stone houses, orchards, home gardens, wooded areas, and schools. Some of the schools that we passed were shuttered due to lack of students. Andrijana told me that before the war, 15,000 people lived in the municipality; today, she estimates, that number is down around 8,000.

There were a few very overgrown stećaks—massive, ancient tombstones—in one privately-owned woods. Andrijana commented, “So much of historic value has been destroyed; each new regime that comes in neglects the old monuments.” She further spoke of the spatial plans drawn up by the municipality and the entity, both of which call for a nature reserve to be established on Majevica. She explained that the Republika Srpska is legally required to draw up a new spatial plan every 15 years, and the last one was created in 2010. Andrijana fears that a new plan written in 2025 could omit the idea of a nature park. “There is so much potential in a nature reserve,” she said. “My husband and I have traveled a lot, and we know that, in comparison, this is a lovely country. We appreciate the treasures of nature here. But our politicians choose to destroy this, to open mines, instead of enjoying healthy food, drinkable water, and the beauty of this region.”

As we rode, Andrijana outlined the history of lithium exploration on Majevica, saying,                 

Foreigners want to come and extract lithium and other minerals here in a cheap way. In 2002 Rio Tinto was here digging, and then they left, because they saw that there was not enough of a water source to process the ore. So they went to Serbia. That company had destroyed aboriginal land in Australia. Then in 2011 and 2012 a Canadian firm came, but they left, deciding it was not worth it. Then in 2018, the Swiss company Arcore came.      

The company received a prospecting license; it began exploration in 2020 and finished in 2022. Republika Srpska law affords the prospector two years after finishing exploration until one is required to apply for a concession for mining. This term expired, but the RS authorities extended the deadline to February 2025.  Meanwhile, the Republika Srpska Bureau for Protection of Cultural-Historical and Natural Inheritance initiated research on the biodiversity of the Majevica region; such a project typically takes 18 months to complete. Experts go into the field and catalogue the flora and fauna of the area. The resulting list supports the argument for creating a nature reserve.

The case for creating a nature reserve on Majevica is reinforced by Bosnia’s state-level spatial plan adopted in 1981. It called for the expansion of the protected surface of Bosnia-Herzegovina to 15.03% by the year 2000. As we have seen, protected coverage remains around a paltry 3%. Regarding the preservation of biodiversity, in 2002 Bosnia-Herzegovina signed the Convention on Biological Diversity, a world-wide agreement to foster biodiversity and environmental protection. Being a signatory to the Convention ostensibly puts Bosnia’s intentions in harmony with the European Union’s Natura 2000 network that advocates protection of endangered habitats. Furthermore, it also implies respect for the European Red List, an extensive evaluation of the status of species throughout Europe as endangered or vulnerable. This list contains species endemic to Bosnia and, as such, can act as a signpost for conservation. Of course, all of this depends on the political will of Bosnia’s leadership.

We arrived at Lopare, a small town that had to have seen better days. Today most of the older buildings have been replaced by ones of no architectural note. The river Gnjica, which later joins the Sava River, is sadly lined with concrete as it flows through the center of town.

But Lopare is the administrative “ground zero” for lithium exploration on Majevica. It was indicative of this that, as Andriana and I lunched at a hotel restaurant, we noticed six stout men sitting at another table. One of them was Petar Đokić, Minister of Energy and Mining for the Republika Srpska. It could not have been by chance that Đokić was visiting one of the most impoverished municipalities in the entity. 

Creating the resistance

In October 2023, the Tuzla-based grassroots environmentalist organization Karton Revolucija posted video clips online (here and here) about the potential damaging effects of lithium mining on Majevica. It was at this time that Andrijana learned of the threat; she recounted to me that

Before that, no one knew about this. People started to talk about the problem. I did know that for years, companies had been coming here to do research, drilling, seeking minerals.

I saw that no one was talking about this. It was as if no one was interested. I had a feeling similar to what I felt when I was a child and the war started. There was so much destruction in that war, and people were not conscious of what was going to happen. It is like that now; no one is aware. So I started to research the problem on the internet, to see if anyone was saying anything at all against the mining. A video by Karton Revolucija jumped out at me. They had been on Majevica, saw the drilling holes, and started to bring up the problem. They were the first who were aware, and who came to Majevica and drew attention to the situation.

At this point, Andrijana decided to found an organization with a handful of friends from Lopare. They formed Čuvari Majevice, registered it as an NGO, and created a web page on the internet. Today, she told me, “the organization counts 7,000 members. But those are people who click on something. In fact, Čuvari Majevice has 21 members. That’s how many signed up to be members; to be a member, you have to work.”

Čuvari Majevice held its first public gathering in December 2023. “There were more than 300 people in Dom Kulture [Lopare Cultural Center],” Andrijana recounted, “and there had never been that many people in that building.” Mayor Rado Savić was there and, due to his support for mining on Ozren, his reception was not friendly. People in the audience expressed their opposition to the proposed mining of lithium, and criticized Savić for allowing geological explorations to start here. Up to that point, Mayor Savić had supported the mining project, but he saw something new: the public opposition. A few days later, Milanko Tošić, a member of the municipal assembly, returned his mandate and withdrew from the municipal assembly. He explained that he didn’t want to have anything to do with this project.

“Municipal elections were set for October of 2024,” Andrijana told me. “On social media, people were starting to call for Tošić to run for mayor. Now, Savić understood that he had a serious opponent, and he changed his opinion about the mining project.” No environmental activist that I have met was convinced of the sincerity of Mayor Savić’s change of heart.

Čuvari Majevice organized a second mass gathering in Lopare, to discuss what the group was preparing. There, members introduced an initiative to promote the establishment of a nature reserve on Majevica. A third public meeting took place in Ugljevik, in February 2024.

The prospect of lithium mining on Majevica indeed concerns nearby Ugljevik, as well as Bijeljina and Zvornik, because any pollution of the air and water on the mountain would quickly threaten these cities. Given this, Čuvari Majevice cooperates not only with Karton Revolucija, but also with Eko Put of Bijeljina, Korak of Zvornik, and the nation-wide network Eko BiH, as well as the Ozren activists and organizations all the way over to the Pliva region. Several organizations collaborated to put up billboards in Lopare, Bijeljina, Brčko, and Tuzla expressing opposition to lithium mining.

Andrijana told me, “Our policy is to collaborate with everyone who has the same goals we do. Our only strength is to be in a network. We must collaborate—Banja Luka, Sarajevo, Pliva, Bijeljina, Ozren, and Majevica—we’re all in the same dilemma. How will we defend ourselves? Our strength is nothing if I’m small, if you’re small, if he is small. We must all work together; we cannot be divided.” 

The grassroots activists are not alone in their fight against the mining. In September of 2024, the  mayors of eight towns and cities, from Lopare to Tuzla, and from Ugljevik to Brčko and Bijeljina, signed a public letter in opposition to extraction of lithium. In the letter, the mayors declared, “We expressly object to the opening of a lithium mine… on Majevica. Opening of the mine can cause irreparable damage to the people and environment, and endanger the survival of the population in these areas… The repercussions to health are truly great, as has been proven… Tourism and lithium do not go together.” 

Not surprisingly, backlash against the environmentalists arose quickly. Andrijana recalled,

We saw small articles in the newspapers from Banja Luka, including [Republika Srpska President] Dodik’s ATV [Alternative TV]. They call us “traitors,” and say that we are “paid by foreigners,” and that we are “working with Muslims in the Federation.” They assert that the “Federation wants to hamper development of the Republika Srpska.” I also heard that “the Albanians are financing us.” That is their story. These lies create difficulty for us when we try to explain to uneducated people that they are not true.

Two petitions

In the spring of 2024, Čuvari Majevica initiated the circulation of a petition against lithium mining on Majevica. There were strict regulations controlling petitions in the Republika Srpska, requiring each page of the petition to be stamped by the relevant agency in Banja Luka—and the petition drive was limited to seven days. Mayor Savić directed the project and circulated the petition around Lopare, gathering 3,700 signatures. 

Activists were disappointed because they had expected to be allowed to circulate the petition in the other affected communities, but it did not work out that way.

In the summer, the petition was presented to the Republika Srpska National Assembly (NSRS) for a vote. Of 83 representatives, 64 were present. Only 21 voted against the mining project, and the rest neither opposed it nor abstained. The petition failed.

Later in the year activists, led by Eko Put of Bijeljina, organized a second petition drive to be circulated in Bijeljina, Zvornik, Ugljevik, and Lopare. Andrijana noted that this time, the petition was better written, having been drafted by experts from the Banja Luka–based Center for the Environment. In addition, the time limit for circulating petitions was expanded to one month.

Eko Put announced that the new petition called for the establishment of a nature reserve on Majevica: “The goal is protection of Majevica Mountain as a nature reserve, and the prevention of geological research and extraction of mineral ores, including lithium.”

The petition drive lasted from December 21, 2024, to January 19, 2025. The mid-winter drive gathered 6,057 signatures in the four communities. Some activists were disappointed that the turnout was not much larger. One of them wrote me and commented that “This was a very small number of signatures for these two cities and the two municipalities, so I don’t consider that it was a success.”

As of June 2025, activists were still waiting for the Republika Srpska National Assembly to address the initiative to protect Majevica. However, in late spring the Republika Srpska government issued an opinion that it was “not necessary” for the NSRS to discuss the matter. The opinion is not legally binding on the NSRS; however, given that the body’s dominant parliamentary coalition is in President Dodik’s pocket, it appears doubtful that the petition will reach the National Assembly.

Nationwide elections at the municipal level took place in early October, between the circulation of the two petitions. The two main contenders for mayor in Lopare municipality were Milanko Tošić, the principled former municipal assembly member, and the incumbent Rado Savić, the erstwhile mining promoter who had changed his mind. Savić won convincingly with around 3,400 votes; Tošić received half as many.

Surreptitious drilling and damage

In 2020 Arcore began exploratory drilling here and there in the hills of Majevica—sometimes with permission on people’s private lands, and sometimes surreptitiously, without permission. Contrary to the company’s assertions, people who lived near the exploratory drilling quickly noticed unhealthy effects. Water analysis of well water in one village revealed heavy metals, leading to the conclusion that the water was unsafe to drink.

The case of damage to one villager’s water source, that of Jovan Krsmanović, is relatively well publicized. In 2020, Krsmanović allowed Arcore to conduct exploratory drilling on his land; later, his well ran dry. Arcore had guaranteed that his property would be restored to its original condition, but the company reneged. 

Andrijana drove me to Mr. Krsmanović’s home in the village of Vukosavci. On the way, she showed me an illicit drilling site in a sloped field. At the bottom of the field, there was a small puddle of mud with dirty water coming out of it, draining into a ditch by the side of the road. Workers had left metal containers and other garbage nearby.

We arrived at the property of Mr. Krsmanović and walked across some fields to a place where Arcore had drilled. The company had guaranteed Krsmanović restoration if there were any damaging consequences stemming from the exploration, so he gave written permission to drill. The workers drilled down to a depth of 250 meters. A water well is usually about 15 meters deep, Andrijana told me—or an artesian well can be more than 50 meters deep.

Six months after the exploratory drilling, Mr. Krsmanović’s well dried up, and trees and grass near the site died. It was apparent that drilling resulted in the diversion of the underground water in the area. A nearby well belonging to Krsmanović’s neighbor failed as well. They complained to Arcore, which sent out workers to investigate the problem. The company declared that it could not be proved that the problem was due to Arcore’s exploration. Inspectors from Arcore conjectured that Mr. Krsmanović disrupted the workings of the well himself. Upon discussing this during our visit, Mr. Krsmanović simply responded, “That is a lie.” 

Now, Mr. Krsmanović and his neighbor have connected to the city water system. But the water’s quality is inferior, and service is intermittent.

Arcore concession and merger 

In mid-February of 2025, three events that portend imminent mining on Majevica took place in short order. First, just three days before the expiration of Arcore’s deadline to apply for a concession to mine on Majevica, on February 14, 2025, the company filed the necessary request. A representative of the company noted that this was just the beginning of the application process, because it was still necessary for Arcore to file an economic report, as well as an environmental study. Arcore announced that it expects to be able to begin mining by late 2028. Then on February 17, Arcore and the Canadian firm Rock Tech Lithium Inc. agreed to establish a joint-venture operation that envisions Arcore supplying lithium to Rock Tech’s processing factory in Guben, Germany, not far from Berlin. The joint company, to be 75% controlled by Rock Tech, would thus form an integrated supply chain that is expected to provide the German auto industry with enough lithium for 500,000 cars per year. 

Arcore states that the lithium mine will be of the open pit variety. The company promises that its mining project “will be developed in cooperation with local stakeholders and in compliance with the strictest environmental, social, and governance (ESG) standards.” And on February 19, President Dodik met with representatives of Arcore and Rock Tech at the entity’s Palace of the Republic. At this meeting, Arcore’s managing director Vladimir Rudić expressed the expectationthat an ore separation plant would be built somewhere in Lopare—with the promise that it would be “outside of a populated area, with the goal that the factory not cause displacement of the residents. It will also fulfill all environmental standards…”

Processing of the ore requires much water: up to 15 million liters per ton of lithium. Taking this into account, environmental activists from Majevica are skeptical that separating the ore will be possible with the limited amount of water available in the area; for this reason, they find it more likely that the process would take place across the River Drina in Serbia. In any case, they remain determined to oppose the mining. 

Andrijana insists, 

There is no comparison between the profit from the mining and the destruction it causes. So we have no option but to work. I cannot give up, and I cannot comprehend the people who would destroy our land. I must do it for the children. Otherwise, there is no future. Our children will be sick from drinking the water and from breathing the air.

On March 12, 2025, environmental activists from Majevica and Bijeljina organized a public meeting in Lopare to protest the planned mining project. Activists from the Center for the Environment, Ozren, Karton Revolucija, and Eko BiH came to demonstrate that, as one of them wrote me, “We are sending a message of unity to show that this struggle against a lithium mine is not just local, but regional—and even broader.”

Hundreds of people from the region gathered to hear Bijeljina Mayor Ljubiša Petrović declare, “You will not dig! We have a strategy for struggle in legal terms and we have a strategy for struggle in the form of civil disobedience; this means that it is the people who will decide.” The day before the gathering, organizers presented a demand to the RS Ministry for Energy and Mining calling for the suspension of concession grants until the citizens’ initiative for the creation of a nature reserve on Majevica is passed. The Bijeljina organization Eko Put, along with the rest of the anti-mining network, plans ongoing resistance. The municipal government at Lopare has continued its support of the anti-mining drive.

In the time that I have been investigating environmental resistance and meeting with activists, I have often heard the statement, “The corrupt leaders have run out of ways to steal from economic institutions, so they have turned to natural resources to enrich themselves.” Republika Srpska opposition politician Nebojša Vukanović expressed the thought in a pithy way: “Milorad Dodik continues… with a final act of treason, with unforeseeable results, first of all environmental ones. He wishes for us literally to become a colony.” Vukanović was not just blowing smoke. In late May of this year Dodik, while embroiled in an escalation of his secessionist project, made a proposal to President Trump. In a “Ukraine-style mineral deal,” he offered Trump access to the Serb-controlled entity’s critical raw materials in return for a guarantee of the RS’s “sovereignty.”

In an interview, Andrijana Pekić expressed her and her colleagues’ determination to carry on the struggle against the invasion of the mining companies:

We remain dedicated to our path and to the struggle for the status of a protected area, that is, that Mt. Majevica can only be a nature reserve. Anything else is unacceptable as long as the deeply rooted problem of corruption of the Republika Srpska institutions is not changed. In such conditions, we are witness to countless examples of disregard for the rules and standards, and all this leads to the serious damage of people’s health… and irreparable destruction of nature.