Corporate Capture and the Creation of False Enemies: How Criminalising Environmental Movements Fuels Green Extractivism

Contradictions abound in the world of raw materials, and the subject may become quite delicate when it comes to corporate profits, human rights, environmental damage, corruption, extractivism, and livelihoods. Diego Marin, our Senior Policy Officer for Raw Materials and Resource Justice, is no stranger to the heated debates that characterise this field. Throughout his career, he has navigated the intricate web of these competing interests, advocating for a just and truly sustainable approach to resource management.

Recent events have presented a disturbing new challenge. The EEB is deeply concerned by the unprecedented public ad-hominem attacks and name-calling directed at Diego, notably originating from a researcher at the esteemed KU Leuven. While such personal attacks might, in isolation, appear trivial, they reflect a broader, more sinister pattern: the systematic discrediting and criminalisation of environmental movements and activists to silence dissent and protect extractive agendas.

Criminalisation takes various forms. Smear campaigns, unfounded allegations, and the weaponisation of bureaucracy are all examples of subtle tactics. Alternatively, it can be overt: repression, imprisonment, or Strategic Lawsuits Against Public Participation (SLAPPs), a type of abusive lawsuit used by corporate power to suppress free speech, the public interest, and people power, typically targeting environmental and human rights’ defenders, journalists, whistleblowers, and watchdogs. Today, we see a worrying convergence of these tactics—a combination of corporate and far-right strategies to crush environmental resistance.

Environmental NGOs are suffering increasing defamation. Earlier this year, an EPP MEP brought up a so-called “green lobby scandal”, claiming—without evidence—that EU-funded NGOs were secretly lobbying for the Green Deal at the Commission’s request. Meanwhile, the UK’s draconian anti-protest laws make peaceful climate marches illegal, labelling activists as “eco-terrorists.” In the United States, a North Dakota jury determined that Greenpeace must pay $660 million for supporting Indigenous-led protests against the Dakota Access Pipeline, setting a shocking precedent for corporate retaliation against environmental protection.

At a time when ecological mobilisation is urgently needed, environmental activists are increasingly criminalised as state enemies. This is a strategic discreditation aimed at enabling “green extractivism” – the deceptive rebranding of mining and harmful energy projects as climate solutions, while ignoring alternatives that could reduce resource consumption and foster a human rights and worker-centred ecological transition.

Against this backdrop, the KU Leuven-funded documentary Not in My Country—featuring Peter Tom Jones and backed by subsequent advocacy campaigns, emphasises the ongoing, subtle, and overt criminalisation of environmental movements. Academics and filmmakers have already condemned the initiative as a “documercial” for its one-sided corporate framing, accusing it of perpetuating a “neo-colonial, extractivist narrative” under the pretence of climate activism.

The documentary portrays local opposition as a Russian-funded conspiracy, evoking the discredited tactics of the “green lobby scandal” and minimising environmental and social concerns, as well as the Vučić government’s repressive tactics.

The documercial’s title, “Not in My Country”, purposefully mimics the “Not In My Backyard” (NIMBY) trope with a manipulative twist, portraying environmental campaigners as hypocrites (“You demand green technology while opposing the mines that supply its materials”). This disingenuous framing reduces complex ethical debates and impacts to simplistic gotcha rhetoric, ignoring several legitimate concerns, such as how and where extraction occurs; equating all opposition with hypocrisy; erasing crucial distinctions between blanket anti-mining stances and resistance to specific exploitative projects like Rio Tinto’s Serbia venture; and ultimately absolving corporations of accountability by shifting blame to communities fighting for sustainable alternatives.

Controlling the narrative is exactly Peter Tom Jones’ modus operandi. In late March, Diego was invited to participate in a debate on March 28th, following the screening of “Not in My Country” at Docville, where Diego accepted the invitation. However, Peter Tom Jones (who had blocked Diego on LinkedIn) abruptly cancelled the event, citing “safety concerns” for the panellists and stating that other participants had withdrawn. 

Diego was not informed of the other panellists during the panel debate, who he later discovered to be a KU Leuven professor of chemistry, a representative from Transport and Environment, who, despite their extensive work in the raw materials sector, are neutral towards the project, a representative of Euromines, the European association of mining companies, and himself. Effectively, the views in favour of the mine outnumbered those opposed.

Peter Tom Jones has publicly framed the cancellation as “a blow to the freedom of speech in Belgium”. However, Belgium has always valued free speech alongside the freedom to peaceful protest. If you make provocative films championing a project that has sparked mass opposition, you can’t pretend to be surprised when that opposition speaks up. 

Tine Hens’ excellent research for the Flemish independent media outlet, “Apache”, led us to the conclusion that Peter Tom Jones cancelled the screening since Diego agreed to participate in the panel debate. This pattern indicates the documentary’s true function: not dialogue, but monologue.

In politics, everything revolves around narratives: the stories we tell. People like Peter Tom Jones cannot fathom how environmental NGOs, which have been advocating for climate action for years, can suddenly turn their backs on lithium mining, a supposedly “crucial” metal for the energy transition. However, the amount of lithium the world needs is still up for debate.

The projections are flawed. Metal demand projects are not very versatile; models focus on technological development and market data on predictions of consumer behaviour, GDP growth of a stable 2-3% for the next 30 years. They do not actively try to model behavioural change (which is admittedly more difficult), a global economic contraction due to climate impacts, or they underestimate technological advancement. They cannot functionally predict technologies that we do not yet know exist.

While lithium remains critical for EVs and energy storage (accounting for 80% of demand), developing alternatives and more efficient resource use could significantly reduce reliance on new mining. Breakthroughs in sodium-ion battery technology already provide feasible lithium substitutes, and urban redesign that prioritises public transportation over private vehicles could slash mineral needs. 

According to Transport & Environment, right-sized EV batteries could cut lithium demand by one-third, while Amigos de la Tierra estimates that recycling, longer product lifespans, and mobility reforms could meet 67% of mineral needs through circular systems. Most strikingly, studies in the United States show that lithium demand could plummet by 90% through three key measures: reducing car dependency, optimising battery sizes, and expanding recycling infrastructure. When demand reduction is prioritised with technological innovation, these solutions highlight a false contradiction between climate action and mineral extraction

What’s even more concerning is that the Critical Raw Materials Act seeks to fast-track mining projects in Europe and beyond, even in ecologically vulnerable regions, based on inflated demand projections that systematically ignore proven demand-side solutions. The “Not in My Country” documentary reinforces the idea of “mine first, ask questions later”.

The documentary also reveals some sinister developments behind the scenes. The documentary’s suggestion that Russian actors are inciting local resistance to Rio Tinto’s project represents a dangerous trend in Europe: using pre-existing geopolitical fears to scapegoat dissent. By framing grassroots resistance as foreign-engineered—a method traditionally used to discredit civil rights, anti-war, and labour movements—the film weaponises Europe’s fraught relationship with Russia to undermine legitimate grievances.

This not only echoes Cold War-era “red scare” propaganda but also aligns with far-right tactics that associate dissent with treason. Such narratives constitute a form of subtle criminalisation, portraying activists as unwitting (or willing) agents of a foreign adversary rather than citizens exercising democratic rights. The goal is to distract attention from corporate abuses—in this case, Rio Tinto’s exploitative practices and the Vučić government’s repression—by manufacturing a “shadow enemy.” Given the Vučić regime’s close ties to the Russian government, reports of Russian-funded protests appear ludicrous.

However, this is not the first time that companies have used “red scare” tactics to undermine environmental action. In 2023, the industry began promoting narratives that environmental movements were doing China’s bidding. They also falsely claimed that environmental groups had disproportionate access to EU officials compared to mining interests, casting doubt on NGO funding sources and laying groundwork for the baseless accusations that emerged in the “green lobby scandal.” This deceptive comparison conveniently ignored that most environmental NGOs do not focus on mining issues at all—an intentional conflation to discredit legitimate advocacy.

Finally, Peter Tom Jones’ attempt to use the documentary’s cancellation as evidence of environmental movements’ oppressive nature mirrors the playbook of the infamous psychologist and far-right darling Jordan Peterson. Despite that, Peterson and Jones are on completely separate sides of the scale on climate action. Both are weaponising “free speech” as a shield to deflect scrutiny and portraying themselves as martyrs to “cancel culture.”

The parallel runs deeper. Jordan Peterson campaigns against what he terms “woke censorship”, aligning with far-right rhetoric that frames climate activism as authoritarian overreach. This narrative positions corporations and certain political regimes as champions of “rational debate” while depicting environmental advocates as adherents of a “pseudo-religion” seeking socialist control over society. While Jones may not embrace Peterson’s more extreme positions, his rhetoric shares notable similarities, particularly in characterising anti-extractivism activists as emotionally driven zealots akin to “Jehovah’s Witnesses”.

Here’s the twist: “Green” extractivism is based on far-right logic. By rebranding Rio Tinto’s mining ventures as “climate pragmatism”, Jones echoes the far right’s false binaries (“jobs vs. environment”, “progress vs. protest”) to justify sacrificing communities and ecosystems. Meanwhile, his emotional cries about “censorship” distract from the real silencing of Serbians facing Vučić’s repression, researchers challenging inflated lithium demand projections, and communities proposing ecological alternatives to increased extraction.

This is the dark synergy of our moment. Corporate extractivism adopts far-right discourse tactics (conspiracy, free-speech panic) to justify ecological plunder, while far-right movements exploit green transition anxieties to fuel backlash. Both profit from the same lie: that justice, whether social or environmental, is a threat to “freedom”.

Since the publication of this article, Peter Tom Jones issued a public apology to the EEB via LinkedIn. However, the individuals directly involved—Diego Marin and Robin Roels—had already been blocked by Jones on LinkedIn and only learned of this apology through third parties. The EEB received no email, letter, or invitation to meet regarding this matter, suggesting the apology was more about public image restoration than genuine remorse. If scientific integrity truly matters at KU Leuven, both Peter Tom Jones and Rector Luc Sels owe a sincere apology, not to the EEB, but more crucially, to the people of Serbia who refuse to become a mining colony.