A Mining Project in a Protected Wetland Grassroots Resistance to Extractivism at the Tala Hamza–Amizour mine in Algeria

In Algeria, the mining sector has gained momentum since the 2000s; it is now considered key to diversifying the Algerian economy and to ‘the reclaiming of Algeria’s sovereignty over national resources’, according to the Minister of Energy and Mines, Mohamed Arkab.3  Several major projects have been carried out or are currently under development, including the Gara Djebilet iron ore mining project in Tindouf in the southwest, 4 the phosphate mines intended for fertiliser production in Tebessa province in the east, and the zinc and lead mine at Tala Hamza–Amizour, in Béjaïa province, in north-east Algeria. These projects are described as ‘embedded’ or  ‘structuring’ 5 as they operate within both global and national economic circuits, notably by developing or strengthening connected industries. Zinc mining affects industrial sectors such as steel production (for galvanisation), alloy manufacturing (brass), the automotive industry, and various chemical and processing industries, such as pharmaceuticals, cosmetics and rubber. Lead is used in radiation protection and in the battery, glass and ceramics industries, among others. This development of the mining sector means an increase in the issuance of exploration and production permits to foreign companies, small local operators, and state-owned companies such as the National Company for Non-Ferrous Mining Products and Useful Substances (ENOF). Algeria is thus embracing the mining era, strengthening the extractive path it began with hydrocarbons. 

This study examines one of the so-called ‘structuring’ mining projects. It analyses the positions of the state and the agency of the social actors involved, and evaluates the extent to which these projects – which are embedded within relations of domination and inequality at both global and local levels – collide with environmental issues. It asks, in a context of climate change and significant human-induced environmental imbalances, to what extent environmental and local economic issues are a concern for the communities subjected to economic decisions that threaten their very existence, and how they can engage with them. 

Mining projects demonstrate the dangers of extractivism. We conceive of extractivism as a set of activities aimed at extracting resources purely for production- and export-oriented purposes, thereby dispossessing communities of their land and heritage while degrading their environment. Extractivism constitutes both a process of dispossession and a form of predation. It exploits inequalities by embedding communities in exchanges between raw material-producing countries and those in which transnational corporations dominate exclusionary global economic circuits; and it transforms regions into sacrifice zones. Extractivism further marginalises local populations by alienating them from their own resources. 6

Since the 2000s, Algeria has sought to address criticisms relating to its economy’s near-exclusive dependence on hydrocarbons by turning toward mining. 

Oil and gas have long been a mainstay of the country’s economy. Their contribution to GDP increased from 21.5% to 30.1% between 1993 and 1997. During this period, the share of hydrocarbons in government budget revenues rose from 58% to 63.9%, 7  and it has been increasing ever since. In 2000, oil revenues were estimated at $22 billion, and the hydrocarbon sector accounted for 40% of GDP, 80% of budget revenues, and 99% of exports. 8 Between 2019 and 2023, 9 it made up 86% of exports and 47% of budget revenues. 

Although frequently invoked by public authorities, the renewable energy sector remains underdeveloped. Instead, economic diversification efforts are increasingly being redirected toward the mining sector, which is presented as capable of delivering a ‘new impetus’ for strengthening ‘national sovereignty’. 10 
 

The Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour mining project in Béjaïa province provides a clear illustration of the extractivist dynamic behind the move to minerals. Launched in 2006, 11 the project took nearly 20 years to materialise before being selected as a project of ‘public interest’, presumed to serve the interests of the nation as a whole.

The mine is situated in the Soummam Valley, designated a wetland site of international importance under the Ramsar Convention, 12 which Algeria ratified in 1984. The region hosts rare species of flora and fauna, along with a groundwater aquifer estimated at 1,600 billion cubic metres. 13 With annual rainfall of around 1,200 mm/year14 – making it one of the rainiest regions in Algeria – the Béjaïa region is crossed by several rivers: the Soummam (90 km), the Agrioun (80 km), the Djemaa (46 km) and the Zitouni (30 km).

The area is characterised by family-based farming, 15 and by bigger industrial entities. The latter rely largely on the agri-food sector, with major companies such as the Cevital Group, Candia and Danone, alongside a network of medium-sized enterprises and a beverage industry which consumes substantial water resources. 16 

These companies generate large quantities of wastewater and untreated waste, which is discharged into nearby rivers (Oued Soummam, Oued Sghir, and Oued Amizour) before potentially reaching treatment plants and ultimately, the sea. 17 Marine pollution in Algeria – including the Béjaïa coastline – is a serious issue; it has led to a significant decline in fishing yields, which have plummeted by 80% since 2005. 18  This decline is anthropogenic, driven in particular by wastewater discharge, organic waste disposal and plastic pollution, all of which have harmful impacts on marine life and ecosystems.

The Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour zinc and lead mine is located on the border of two rural farming communes, Amizour and Tala Hamza, with a total population of 80,573 (77,756 in Amizour and 12,817 in Tala Hamza). 19  The mine covers an area of 234 km2, including part of the Soummam valley, 20  while the town of Béjaïa lies approximately 20 km away.

According to Messaoud Houfani, a geologist at the Ministry of Mines, 21 the state initially explored the area in 1977, but the project was not carried forward. It re-emerged in the 2000s, when Algeria shifted its attention to mining and enacted new laws in 2001 and 2014. 

Let’s provide a brief overview: Mining Law No. 01-10, dated 3 July 2001, marked the first time the sector was opened to foreign investment since its nationalisation in 1966. The law allowed foreign operators to invest and acquire mining permits in this so-called sovereign sector. It was reframed in February 2014 by Law No. 14-05, the Mining Activities Law, 22  which reasserted the state’s leading role in the exploitation and management of the mining sector. Article 72 of this law set a minimum public ownership threshold of 51%, while permitting partnerships with domestic and foreign private actors. In August 2025, Algeria enacted a new Mining Law, No. 25-12, which allows foreign companies to hold up to 80% of the capital and openly, as well as implicitly, undermines the importance of protecting the people and the environment. 

The Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour mine project originates from 2006, when the Ministry of Energy granted the Australian firm Terramin a mining concession permit with a 65% share while allocating 35% to the Algerian side. 23 

In 2014, the company Western Mediterranean Zinc SPA was established, 24 bringing together Terramin, ENOF, and the National Office for Geological and Mining Research. In 2022, Terramin’s share was reduced in line with the legislation in force since 2009 on the distribution of shares, i.e., 51% for the Algerian party and 49% for foreign partners. This revision nonetheless benefited Terramin, which gained from this adjustment despite having made no significant investment. As we will detail further below, the benefit was not a cash return, but paved the way to commercial incentives based on a long-term strategy. Terramin secured its position as a technical and operating actor of the project and received fiscal and economic advances, including the exploration in larger land perimeters. In 2025, the company was renamed Béjaïa Zinc and Lead SPA (BZL). 25 

In 2023, the Ministry of Energy granted the company a mining permit, along with significant tax incentives and state infrastructure spending. This followed ‘two feasibility studies in 2016 and 2018’ supposedly carried out by ‘leading global consulting firms’. 26 Nadjiba Bourenane, Director General of Mines at the Ministry of Energy also referred to ‘studies’ without providing any further details. Terramin’s website only mentions a single study. 

In spring 2026, the project appears to be ‘40% complete from a technical standpoint’. One of the issues mentioned relates to ‘hydraulic problems’, 27  according to an engineer quoted by the newspaper Horizon. Bruce Sheng, Terramin’s executive chairman, points out that the project has fallen behind schedule due to delays linked to site access. ‘Now that access to the site has been secured, we can focus on execution and move the project toward implementation” (op. cit.). As for the villages affected by the land acquisition, our research participants note that construction of the infrastructure has not yet begun and that the villagers still refuse to leave their homes. 

The mine’s capacity is estimated at 34 million tonnes, with an annual yield of 170,000 tonnes of zinc. 28 The ore grade is estimated at 5.6% zinc and 1.9% lead, 29 and the mine’s operational lifespan is estimated at 19 years, with the possibility of extension to 30 or even 40 years, as exploration is likely to extend beyond the original mining perimeter. According to the developers, the mine could generate around 700 direct jobs and 4,000 indirect jobs. 30 A training component is planned at the mine site, as well as at the Gara Djebilet Mining School, located next to the iron mine of the same name. The latter is a primary processing facility, whose opening was initially scheduled for 2025 before being postponed to 2026. Instead of a new school, it is rather the National Institute for Specialized Vocational Training (l’Institut national spécialisé de formation professionnelle INSFP) in the City of Tindouf, which was renamed he Centre d’excellence spécialisé dans les métiers des mines and has integrated eight mining specialties into its curriculum. 31 

The ore will be extracted by cut-and-fill ‘stoping’ method, which consists of vertically crushing and milling the rock. This technique is presented as a more environmentally friendly alternative to ‘block caving’, which would leave an open crater in Oued Amizour. 32 Although energy- and equipment-intensive, the chosen method allows for maximum ore extraction. The technique for maintaining underground chambers involves creating supports by backfilling and filling the voids left by ore extraction. This method allows for previously unmined neighbouring sections to be accessed in subsequent extraction. The backfill, however, contains mineral residues described as ‘more or less toxic’, 33 combined with water and cement. Pozzolan 34  is added to the mixture.
 

The analysis of the government’s arguments reveals how the discursive strategy operates, that is, silencing the opposition while reframing the voices of local communities to serve the official narrative. These strategies will be examined in more detail when we address the relationship between the state, civil society organisations and local populations, especially regarding calls for the protection of communities and their environment .

The authorities maintain that the techniques used pose no risk to the environment or public health, asserting that the backfill respects natural configurations, and that environmental impacts only occur underground, rather than extending to the surface and the air. According to Houfani, 70% of the waste produced will be buried. 35  Houfani even questioned the existence of the aquifer when he stated, ‘It is possible that there is no aquifer’, despite scientific evidence and the Ramsar technical documentation – which Algeria itself endorsed – which confirm the aquifer’s existence. 36 

Terramin’s ‘environmental management plan’ includes two components on public health and the environment, to be covered by the operating company, for which 25% of the project’s total budget, estimated at $500 million, will be allocated. 37  In other words, $125 million will be allocated to addressing health and environmental impacts, but only after the project’s completion, in 19 years’ time.

The literature on the impact of mining in the Maghreb has particularly stressed the socio-economic issues surrounding these projects, framing the environmental dimension as secondary, rather than an integral aspect of struggles against extractivist mining projects. Therefore the 2008 protest movement in Gafsa, in southern Tunisia, has been analysed through the prism of neoliberal predation, clientelism, and patrimonialism. 38 Other approaches focused on linking economic and political ecologies include the protest movement in Imider, in south-eastern Morocco, against the exploitation of a silver mine that had depleted the region, 39 or in Algeria’s In Salah region (1,200 km south of Algiers), against shale gas extraction, 40 where local environmental associations played a decisive role in the victory of the protest movement. Even more strikingly, the opposition of the entire population for more than five months – an unprecedented phenomenon in Algeria at the time – laid the foundations of civic socio-ecological demands.41 In the agricultural sector, the population of the Jemna oasis (south-eastern Tunisia) reclaimed produce and land from which it had been dispossessed.42 

The Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour case shares certain similarities with that of In Salah. In both cases, environmental protection associations were the first to respond and to document the dangers linked to the establishment of the mine. In the following section, we will briefly outline the response of the local population, seeking to understand why its arguments – though very sound – failed to trigger any significant opposition to the mining project, despite the region being renowned for its strong civil society and democratic struggles.

The Kabyle region of northern Algeria is known for its village committees, 43 made up of male representatives of families. Some village associations are often actively engaged in environmental protection and solidarity work. As soon as the decision was made to relaunch the mine project in 2020, many organizations took action, such as the Tiwizit/Solidarity Association from the village of Marj Ouamrane, the Ait-Yahya Association located in the same village, Imaziwen/Izghayen from Ait-Bouzid, and Tadarth Ibezghichen (an association formed by natives of a now abandoned village, whose former inhabitants still hold land, some of which continues to be cultivated). 44 The Talsa Timerzit and Ardh/Land associations are active throughout the province. In 2022, the Tiwizit, Ait-Yahya and Imaziwen associations formed a coalition to strengthen their voice. 45 

Disjuncture 1: Grounding Opposition on Environmental Issues

What were the main demands put forward by the inhabitants and associations of Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour, and how were their actions carried out? To address these questions, we first examine the social, environmental and economic concerns raised by opponents of the mining project. We then examine their political positioning, as well as the obstacles to information dissemination, and the modes of communication that develop within a constrained and exclusionary public space.

The associations emphasised two main dimensions: environmental and health issues on the one hand, and economic aspects on the other, particularly Terramin’s financial inability to operate the mine. Their criticisms ultimately concern two points: suspicions of corruption, not detailed in their various statements but already mentioned at the time the new mining concession was granted in 2006, and the repeated reactivations of the project despite the province’s negative opinion. 46 

The environmental argument is based on the site’s protected status as a wetland, which is nevertheless already experiencing upstream water stress due to extraction by existing water-related industries. The desalination plant under construction in Tighremt (30 km from Béjaïa), as well as water restrictions imposed on the population, both attest to this problem. 47 Despite water scarcity, 50% of the available water is still allocated to the mining project. This piece of information was uncritically propagated by the press, whose accounts about environmental protection measures lack clarity and precision:

Measures have been introduced to manage water resources in the region, through the installation of a drainage and water collection system to reuse 50% of the water in the deposit’s industrial production process, the protection of biodiversity, and the development of an environmental monitoring programme to allow for the ‘continuous assessment’ of the project’s environmental impact. 48 

This is just one example among many of the unsubstantiated claims circulated by the press on the allocated water percentage or on how biodiversity is taken into account in this distribution framework.

Furthermore, problems of runoff and toxic waste generation are considered unavoidable. The backfill of toxic materials, the storage systems in the form of water retention dams, along with the chemicals required for ore flotation processing, are ‘insufficient and ineffective’ for protecting the environment and local residents, according to the associations. Runoff will affect watercourses, surface waters, and the groundwater table located 300 metres from the Oued Amizour. The consequences will be devastating for flora and fauna, particularly rare or endangered species living on the coastal area near the mine. 49 A 2021 report by the UN Food and Agriculture Organization states that, ‘The stakeholders in the fishing sector are worried about the future of their activity, in light of the degradation of marine resources and environment, the expansion of economic activities, and the growing pressures on the coastal fringe.’ 50  Crucially, the mine is located not far from a seismic fault. 51  

According to the associations, human health will also be affected, as lead mining is well known for its damaging effects, including neurological disorders and cancer. They point to experiences in Algeria, such as the zinc mine near Sétif, 52  and elsewhere (in France, Latin America), highlighting the long-term toxicity of ores at the surface, in soils, and in the air. 53 

A member of the Talsa association states that: ‘the economic benefits will never compensate for environmental losses […] Practical experience shows that Chinese companies [Terramin is financed by Chinese state assets] 54 leave sites as they stand, [as was the case with] the El Abed mine [Tlemcen, north-western Algeria, closed in 2003], taken over by the Chinese, who left the ore exposed to the air, resulting in a 50% loss of ore.’ 55 

The preamble of the draft mining law (February 2025) challenged the protection of the Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour mining area under an international convention. Point 3 explicitly states that, once the wali [governor] grants approval, they cannot reverse that decision in the light of new data, which had happened in the past. Point 4 concerns the ‘streamlining of procedures for classified sites. This measure seems to be intended to harmonise mining and environmental legislation applicable to classified sites. In fact, the text refers to ‘recurring complications leading, in most cases, to the blocking of mining projects’ (Draft law No. 2025-5). 56  It concludes by emphasising the ‘need for a single authorisation procedure governed exclusively by mining activities’ legislation and thereby allowing for the revival of the mining sector’. The preamble is an important political piece in the process of implementing laws. It implicitly and subtly justifies the presidential decree that overturned the Ramsar convention (more detailed discussion below). It frames the debates. After some discussions in the parliament and the public warning of a few political parties, the Mining Law was passed by Parliament on 16 June 2025. 

The associations’ economic criticisms focus on the viability of exploiting such a mine, given that the zinc ore content is only 7%, as well as on the limited number of jobs created, with ‘this type of mine able to employ only 10% to 15% of the local workers’. 57  It is also worth noting that there is a lack of skilled labour in this sector in Algeria, which makes vocational training necessary. Besides, in this $500 million investment project, the state provides funds 58  for the infrastructure – access to the new Highway 20, bridges, a new dock, airport works – and preferential tax treatment 59  for investors. On top of this, Terramin lacks funds and borrowing capacity. Its projects are financed by its partners, such as the Japan Organisation for Metals and Energy Security 60 and SEEC, which is owned by the Chinese government and administered by the Sipac agency, 61 as well as the China Investment Corporation, which manages China’s sovereign wealth funds. Indeed, the company’s financial reports show that it has not generated any profit since it began operating. 62

According to the associations, proper economic management of this state-neglected region – whose inhabitants are forced into ‘exile’ due to lack of employment – would involve developing alternative economic activities aligned with its touristic potential and agricultural character, notably mountain farming, small-scale livestock breeding and orchard planting, all of which would help sustain populations in rural areas and foster the creation of integrated agricultural value chains.

How do such positions and arguments circulate within the public sphere, and what do they reveal about the relationship between the state and civil society, as well as the possibilities for civic political participation? The state’s decision-making power is key to understanding its relationship with both civil society and the population. As mentioned above, in 2006, the state allowed Terramin 65% of the profits from the mine’s operation; in 2023 it authorised the company to operate the mine. As is the case throughout Algeria, civil society in Béjaïa province had no influence over the decisions and could only react, as was the case in the town of In Salah. In 2020, residents of the villages of Aït Bouzid and Marj Ouamrane began to engage in discussions about the project, despite the restrictions imposed by the COVID-19 pandemic. These discussions continued and later enabled the associations to pool their efforts within a coalition.

The relationship between the state and village associations and committees is unequal. The two sides do not actually meet, so what is described as a ‘debate’ is in reality a series of statements rather than a conversation. The public sphere is merely a space in which communication resources are deployed unevenly by each side. Government representatives – such as the Minister of Energy, senior officials, journalists and even academics appointed to committees – are featured on national television and radio and in the print press (both public and so-called private), while associations and civil society are confined to social media (notably Facebook) and to a limited number of online channels such as Montreal-based Alterna TV and the internet channel Berbère TV.

This unequal relationship is also reflected in the dissemination of information and in strategies for withholding it. The example of the impact assessment for the mine project illustrates how residents’ participation is conceived and the nature of the relationship between state and society. While the law requires local authorities to make impact studies public, in practice, these studies are used to obfuscate and control the spread of information. One resident reported that ‘the associations mandated people to take a closer look at the impact study and consult it at the Communal People’s Assembly, [because] we did not have access to it and were not given a copy so that we could properly study it’. The village committees delegated members to consult it, which required several hours of work. They concluded that the impact study dated from 2018, and was not recent, as the wali (governor) of Béjaïa had claimed. According to the associations, the study was ‘merely a technical note’ and not a study in the strict sense of the term. To no avail, the associations have been asking for a meeting with the person who carried it out, as well as with the authorities, to discuss its problem areas.

The awareness campaign led by local associations began in February 2021. The municipality of Amizour invited the population to express their opinion on the 2018 feasibility study in a dedicated register. The register recorded 176 signatures against the mining project and 16 in favour of it. A letter containing the signatures had been addressed to the provincial authorities through the municipality, but the mayor blocked it; the associations only became aware of this much later.

Across all levels (ministry, province, district, municipalities), the authorities tend to take over opportunities for participation and alternative proposals put forward by associations and residents, using them for their own purposes while limiting their actual implementation. For example, despite the law requiring public consultation, representatives of citizens’ committees are prevented from participating in the few meetings with the wali, while requests from associations and inhabitants are simply ignored.

We are a state-registered association. […] We were supposed to receive invitations, but they only invited the association president. He requested to receive four or five invitations because he didn’t want to go by himself [to avoid getting intimidated]. However, he was informed that he would receive only one invitation, which led him to decline the invitation. 63 

At times, the wali holds numerous meetings – which could be characterised as ‘communication operations’ – but without any subsequent action.

We met with the wali three times, and each time, he made us promises, which turned out to be lies. […] For example, when our experts (from the villages) were supposed to meet with those from Algiers and the University of Béjaïa. We were confidently looking forward to it, but they didn’t invite us. 64 

The establishment of the ‘University of Béjaïa Expert Committee’ constitutes a strategy of circumvention and reversals from the authorities. This university-based committee operates directly under the Ministry of Mines and Energy. Although it is portrayed as independent and neutral, it actually serves as a tool for legitimisation of the mine and persuasion of the people: it hides under the cloak of scientific authority to address the local population and the Algerian population in general.

This committee acts as a lever for other state-led practices, to which it is organically connected. It played an active role in a national conference titled ‘Scarcity of Mineral Resources and Algeria’s Positioning: The Role of the Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour Zinc–Lead Deposit’, held at Abderrahmane Mira University of Béjaïa, on 4 October 2023. This conference was attended by at least four ministers and ministerial representatives, as well as all local elected officials. 65 

The absence of representatives from village committees was glaringly obvious, which led residents to stage a protest. The ‘Gathering of Ait Bouzid Citizens’ was held on 13 October 2023, in their village. The declaration issued after this gathering, signed by 87 citizens, deplores the exclusion of the voices of those most directly affected and holds ‘[the] project initiators, [the elected officials], [the] university scientific committee, [the] local authorities… as solely responsible for the environmental and health disasters that would strike [the] region.’

Members of the University of Béjaïa Expert Committee repeatedly appear on television, even contradicting their own findings. Aïssa Mouhoubi, the committee’s spokesperson and chair, is an economist specialising in the hydrocarbons sector. In 2006, 66  Mouhoubi wrote ‘the increasingly frenetic extraction of hydrocarbons, the major source of energy consumed, may prove detrimental to the sustainability of this very development and, inevitably, to social well-being’, and ‘decision-makers seek to maximise hydrocarbon production by handing it over to foreign companies that have demonstrated their “greed” throughout history’. However, in 2023, this same individual backtracked on his 2006 arguments concerning sustainability, social well-being, and the ‘greed’ of foreign companies. In his numerous media appearances in Algeria, Mouhoubi only mentions the profits generated by mineral extraction, citing the Chinese model as an example. According to him, ‘the mines and mining projects [included] in the new economic policy’s agenda are means of conquering markets with the leadership of decision-makers’. What, then, becomes of the people and sustainable development, which have become nothing more than empty rhetoric? 67 

Just as Messaoud Houfani, a geology expert at the Ministry of Mines, claims that it is ‘likely that there is no groundwater table’, for Mouhoubi, there is no such thing as an ‘energy transition’. He explains this by playing on words: according to him, the world has only ever experienced ‘energy additions’. He says that solar and wind energy are ‘sources of energy’, while minerals are, in contrast, ‘means of energy production’. He concludes that it is essential for the mine to be operated, brushing aside concerns about climate change, environmental risks to populations and the spaces they inhabit, as well as the ‘greed’ of foreign companies. 68 

The ambiguity of the state also lies in what is said and what remains unsaid, and spans two political periods: that of Abdelaziz Bouteflika (1999–2019) and that of his successor, Abdelmadjid Tebboune (2019–present).
In 2006, the Ministry of Energy, under Chakib Khélil (1999–2010), launched the first phase with Terramin. In 2023, the same Ministry, under Mohamed Arkab (1 April 2019 – 24 June 2020, and 22 February 2021–present), ratified the agreements and granted Terramin the mining rights (2023). The continuity of mining policy follows the course set by the Algerian state. From Bouteflika to Tebboune, it has remained the same, even though the latter seems to have taken it over and made mining his economic credo: as noted by the

Talsa association report 69 , the Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour mining project has become a ‘Presidency’ project, in a similar vein to all other mining projects. As such, the capacity of local associations to intervene is extremely limited, and any critical stance toward mining projects is suppressed.

The deadline for the start of mining operations was set for March 2026, which has led to increased crackdown, particularly since late February 2026. To cite one example, while we were drafting this text in March 2026, four representatives of the Aït Bouzid village committee were summoned and interrogated by the gendarmerie in Béjaïa. The prosecutor accused them of obstructing a state project and has requested a warrant for their imprisonment. 70 They have appealed and are currently under judicial review, awaiting trial, i.e. after the official inauguration of the mine. These individuals are being criminalised following complaints filed by the mayor of Tala Hamza and Terramin itself. The economist Djelloul Slama was also targeted 71 after he voiced his opinion on the production of iron from the Gara Djebilet mine on television. Slama did not, however, openly oppose the mining project; instead, he spoke, with figures to support his analysis, about Algeria’s capacity to process this ore and the project’s short-term profitability. After the broadcast, the expert disappeared for several days before being brought before court. No reliable information has been released about him since. 
 

The Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour mining project appears unstoppable. The ‘soft’ methods used to stifle demands, the isolation of the population and civil society organisations through communication blockades, and the lack of recognition of the legitimacy of their opinions and actions are accompanied by various repressive measures. This ‘soft’ management – as illustrated by the non-intervention of the police in response to villagers’ protests – is rooted in an ambiguous relationship to the law, allowing for a flexible and expandable use of coercive practices. We examine this extensibility of repression in the following paragraphs.

The mining issue is, at its core, a question of law. Indeed, the associations have invoked the law to articulate their positions, citing specific legal provisions or employing expressions such as ‘the laws of the Republic’. This recourse to law and to the rule of law runs up against the (dys)functional administration and deterrent political practices. The law too can be stretched and reversed. For example, it sometimes takes the environment into account, but at other times stretches environmental regulations to fit the mining legislation. It may regulate the 49% cap on foreign ownership, yet still allow that share to be extended to 80%.

This interplay of shifts and reversals is difficult to discern. It is both blurred and obscured by the powerful media machinery of an omnipresent state and its representatives (governors, ministers, presidents, academics, experts, journalists), who are perceived as holding authority or a form of pre-emptive right over people’s lives in the name of a supposedly protective and paternalistic state, which is in fact acting against its own people. In this sense, it is the state itself that dispossesses populations of their territories. This dispossession is akin to the ‘accumulation by dispossession’ advanced by David Harvey (2004). 72  Indeed, it is the Algerian state, rather than the company Terramin, that dispossesses populations of their land while offering compensation. This dispossession process entails a concentration of capital in the hands of a few (here, the state), and more importantly – and of greater concern here – rests on a continuous, unidirectional cycle of resource depletion: first hydrocarbons, then minerals, and finally and simultaneously, water. 73 

The government’s stance, which is amplified by both print and online media, portrays mining as a sort of panacea that would free Algeria from its dependence on both the international market and mineral prices. This position overlooks the fact that the mineral market consists of exclusive and exclusionary niches, 74  already carved out by multinational corporations. 75 It fails to take into account the reality of the mineral production chain, where minerals are bound for export in their raw or ‘pre-processed’ state due to a lack of processing infrastructure. Research on industrialisation highlights the challenges Algeria faces in gaining control of its economy 76 and achieving a minimal level of successful integration. The ideological use of the term ‘ore processing plant’ is creating a confusing picture, suggesting that Algeria has greater control over its raw materials, and has thus emerged as a global actor in the sector. In fact, the term ‘ore processing plant’ does not mean ‘processing plant’. It simply means separating the mineral from the commercially worthless material that surrounds it to produce a semi-raw material. True processing results in a pure material ready for use in other alloys and industrial products. 

To process a mineral does not, therefore, mean to transform it; with the slippage comes misunderstanding. Indeed, the management of the Algerian national economy relies, paradoxically, on foreign direct investment (FDI), 77 which enables multinational corporations to intervene in and gradually reshape the economy over the long term. What, then, remains of ‘national sovereignty’?

The government is feigning engagement in dialogue (giving the impression that it is consulting local communities) while simultaneously carrying out its crackdown. The so-called ‘consultation’ with residents is nothing but a surveillance strategy; it serves as a means of identifying them to later harass, threaten, and punish them. The grassroots community hike to the mine site, organised by community groups in 2023, was closely monitored and suppressed. Four security checkpoints were set up, and, according to residents, ‘people from other regions were prevented from joining the hike after being stopped in Béjaïa’. One witness reports that:

There were undercover security officers and plainclothes police officers with us. Some tried to snatch the video camera from a citizen who was with us. This is when they started scaring people. They wanted to rip the memory card out of Radio M's reporter. Télévision Berbère’s reporter got scared and ran away.

Association leaders’ arguments are based on sound legal grounds. Yet, they still find themselves facing suppression tactics and being subjected to threats and harassment. One such example is Kamel Aissat, a microbiology professor and well-known activist residing in a village near the mine, who was charged on 6 June 2023 under Article 96 bis of Law No. 20-06 of 28 April 2020 of the Penal Code, before being tried for the deliberate dissemination of ‘false and defamatory information likely to undermine public security or order’. His trial drew considerable attention in online media, nationally and internationally. The Court of Appeals of Bejaia upheld final acquittal on 5 May 2024.

The justice system is also deployed by mining representatives to intimidate villagers opposed to the project. According to testimonies, when residents blocked the movement of heavy machines toward the mine in the Spring of 2025, the Algerian director of the mining project called a bailiff. The villagers directly confronted her, in the presence of police officers who did not intervene, claiming that the situation ‘involved private property’. The five affected villages – Aït Bouzid, Ibezghichen, Ibitouten, Ath Ayad, and Aymoune – each have village committees. A member of one of these committee explains:

We often consult each other as we are all impacted by this issue. Wherever they (the mine operators) go, our people are there to stop them from moving forward. The project director told us she just wanted to do four more drillings, but the residents rejected this.

The residents we interviewed testified to the repression they face and to how difficult it is for them to openly express their position against the mining project. One of them spoke of ‘the fear that has crept into people’s homes […] Now, the government has succeeded in instilling fear among people. They are backing down on their rights […] They are backing down from their own homes.’ 78  Some associations no longer attend meetings ‘because they are afraid’. Opinion leaders are also targeted. A villager and an activist recounted:

We got in touch with someone who runs an influential [Facebook] page in Béjaïa. The person told us they would come with a drone to make a documentary about the region and tell the whole story, but they never showed up. A few days later, they told us they had received warnings from security services. They were told that if they spoke about the project, the authorities would file a lawsuit against them. That’s what they told us. If they’re lying, then we’re lying with them.

The state has succeeded in weakening resistance through more covert and less confrontational policing tactics, compared to law enforcement measures used in previous conflicts in the region (in 1995, 2000, 2001 and 2011). 79 Yet, while these methods may be less brutal, they remain no less coercive. Alongside this, the state deploys the judicial apparatus in its sovereign, repressive, and parliamentary forms. Together, these measures show how physical and police repression now operate under the guise of ‘law’ and the rules of law, which are themselves based on a far more silent, incriminating, and deterrent State apparatus.

The Mining Law enacted by parliament on 3 August 2023 effected two shifts: 

Upstream, the 2023 decree bypassing the (Ramsar) International Convention on Wetlands, which protected the Soummam Valley, now designates mining sites and operations as being of ‘public interest’. 80 This decree circumvents parliamentary debate and any meaningful public consultation. Downstream, the new Mining Law allows foreign companies to hold up to 80% of the capital, 81  whereas previously their shares could not exceed 49%. 82 These shifts reinforce an understanding of law as flexible and malleable, calling into question the very principle of ‘sovereignty’.

While the mantra of ‘preserving national sovereignty’ 83 is invoked for mining projects, including the Tala Hamza–Oued Amizour one, neoliberal policies are being brought into effect to permit the near-total withdrawal of public authority from so-called strategic sectors 84 while granting property rights to foreign companies. 85 

The Mining Law is just one example of how the Algerian state is promoting mining at the expense of the population and the environment. In parallel, police interception and repression, the silencing of residents, prosecutions, legal and political manipulation, and the dispossession of inhabitants from their land in Algeria give further evidence. Through subtle yet authoritarian distortions, the mining project has been redefined as a ‘project in the public interest’.

Community associations have struggled to find avenues of communication as very few are available. The region affected by the mine suffers from unemployment and underemployment, and it is even more difficult to raise environmental issues ‘when one is poor’, as association leaders acknowledge. Moreover, the lack of an integrated agricultural policy has weakened the local productive fabric, discouraged small-scale individual enterprise, and resulted in the formation of semi-rural areas with no clear or dominant economic profile, or lacking economic integration. This repression has been made possible by the fact that this region, despite its network of experienced activists, has been progressively silenced since the 2019 Hirak, a large-scale popular protest movement that acted as a wake-up call of unprecedented scale for the political regime in power.

The process of silencing opposing voices was initially brought about by equating all forms of protest in the region with the Kabyle Auto-determination Movement (MAK), which is framed as a criminal threat to national unity. In this respect, the MAK constituted an obstacle to the claims advanced by associations. Subsequently, the discrediting of environmental associations’ discourse regarding a site classified as being of ‘global interest’ has weakened all other voices that might emerge in opposition to similar projects in Algeria.

The mining project also raises the issue of both tangible heritage (the historic villages) and intangible heritage – an issue that has been ignored by the authorities but brought forward by residents and associations. There are, for example, cemeteries of the martyrs of the War of Independence and ‘ancestral cemeteries’ located within the mining area. We ask how can ‘national sovereignty’ be reconciled with the denial of those who sacrificed their lives for the nation, yet remain ignored and unhonoured?

Finally, the so-called ‘shift toward mining’ is in fact nothing more than a new form of extractivism and ‘path dependency’ 86 – that is, a continuation of the same patterns of production and adaptation by dependent countries to the new ‘global demand’ (to use the words of those in charge of the project). This leaves no room for imagining alternatives, nor for exploring production methods that are sovereign, fair, ecologically sound, and mindful of persistent inequalities; ones that are based on policies grounded on solidarity rather than predatory and clientelist approaches.