Conflicts and Legitimacy of Environmental Organisations Facing Mining Projects in New Caledonia-Kanaky

Abstract

This chapter deals with conflicts and the legitimacy of environmental associations in conflict with, or holding to account, recent nickel projects in New Caledonia-Kanaky – Goro Nickel in the South and Koniambo in the North. Based on the concepts of environmental justice and resource conflicts, and on environmental management provisions, we discuss how environmental associations dealing with mining impacts raise their voice, gain legitimacy and intervene in environmental monitoring. The organisations CEK/Environord, ŒIL, CCCE and Rhéébù Nùù pursue different approaches and strategies. CEK was internal to the mining company KNS (Koniambo Nickel SAS) before becoming more “independent” under the label “Environord” (despite continuing financing from KNS). Rhéébù Nùù aimed to fight against the Goro Nickel project in the South before signing a pact with the Brazilian group Vale, with royalties and community benefits. ŒIL is advised by an independent scientific committee which gives it broader legitimacy. Its environmental monitoring allows it some participation in the project, but decision-making remains with the mining operators. Despite the important actions of these NGOs, the pro-independence party FLNKS and the upheavals in 2020 around the selling of the Goro Nickel smelter show that political authorities in New Caledonia-Kanaky are trying to obtain greater control over nickel extraction, processing and exportation themselves.

1 Introduction

Large-scale mining projects have been shown to lead to extensive environmental damage, social upheavals and widening economic disparities (Bebbington et al. 2018; Dunlap 2019; Kowasch 2018). Landscape modifications introduced by mining include pits, waste piles, built structures (e.g. motorways, bridges) and geomorphological phenomena (e.g. debris fans and turbid rivers) (Bridge 2004).

Major environmental impacts include metal-mining wastes, and UNESCAP (1992) divides these into physical and chemical forms. Physical pollution results from the egress of particulates into the atmosphere, into water or onto land. However, chemical pollutants (such as chrome, mercury or cyanide) are the primary focus of objections to mining activities. According to Horowitz et al. (2018, p. 4), “the environmental legacies of decades of un-regulated mining and the need for long-term monitoring of post-mining landscapes have only recently come into focus”. Widespread environmental impacts often disproportionately affect the land-based livelihoods of nearby communities (Downing et al. 2002; Horowitz et al. 2018). Indigenous communities rarely benefit from large-scale mining operations, and the social arena of the projects can be described as inherently unequal. Mostly layered on centuries of exploitation, mining companies usually fail to invest benefits locally (Bebbington et al. 2008, 2018; Yeh and Bryan 2015). Therefore, local peoples living close to mine sites are often victims of major environmental and social impacts (Freudenburg and Wilson 2002; Sachs and Warner 1995). Generally, an analysis reveals the historical reasons for this process of becoming vulnerable or why people become “victims” of environmental damage (Füssel 2006; Porto 2012). Vulnerability refers to uneven power relations of actors involved in resource extraction, sometimes leading to what Harvey (2003) called “accumulation by dispossession”. By expelling a resident population to create a landless proletariat, land is released “into a privatized mainstream of capital accumulation” by (private) companies (ibid, p. 149).

Transnational mining companies have identified achieving a “(social) license to operate”, that is, gaining social acceptance, as a major risk to their businesses (EY 2018). The industry is under tremendous pressure to improve its social and environmental performance (IIED 2019) and “social and environmental corporate responsibility”, but the definition of responsibility is itself controversial (Dahlsrud 2008). The mining sector considers local economic stability and environmental protection as requirements for making non-renewable resource extraction more sustainable (Bridge 2004; Esteves 2012). But as Bebbington et al. (2018, p. 1) highlight, definitions “…differ based on the degree to which analysts emphasise goals of poverty and income inequality, environmental justice, gender equity, or human and citizenship rights”.

Companies have, of course, invested in new technologies aiming to improve ecological and economic efficiency, but dialogue and the development of “partnerships” with civil society groups have no straightforward templates or a guarantee of success (Zhouri 2015; Zhouri and Laschefski 2010). The International Council for Mining and Metals (ICMM) was founded by the mining sector in 2001. The council brings together 25 of the world’s leading miners and metal processors, comprising Glencore, Vale and other multinationals. It is a sort of “club” of self-styled responsible mining companies (Bebbington et al. 2008; Kowasch 2018) that requires a commitment to ten principles that include the integration of sustainable development in corporate strategy (principle 2) and the improvement in environmental performance issues (principle 6). The principles of ICMM give the extractive industry sector a coat of green paint, so that much of the discussion regarding how to manage mining more effectively and with less environmentally destructive techniques has emphasised the importance of institutions and better governance (Karl 2007; Humphreys et al. 2007; Bebbington et al. 2018). The ICMM can be seen as a step to promote Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) in the resource sector. However, there is no external independent control of the measures and rules established by the council. Critical scholars such as Schwartz (2011) and Brock and Dunlap (2018) argue that CSR has to be contextualised within a neoliberal toolbox designed to increase profits so long as the activities stay within the rules of the game. By taking the example of the Hambach coal mine in operated by the German energy company RWE, Brock and Dunlap (2018, p. 36) say the company tries to “maintain legitimacy and ‘pacify’ opposition” around the mine.

Many authors have shown that science and expertise are also political issues (e.g. Callon et al. 2009). Controversial techno-scientific practices, and their development, raise questions about democracy. In this chapter, we focus on mining companies that take on the role of experts to measure the effects of their own activities. They deploy a set of studies and measurement devices and report on their environmental impacts and their local dialogue with state administrations and local populations. Hence, we want to ask – in the light of the abundant negative characteristics of mining operations and the profit orientation of multinational companies (MCs) – can environmental organisations be locally legitimate when they are funded by the company they are monitoring? Our broader objective is to discuss how mining companies deal with controversial issues such as deforestation or toxic leakages and how they are involved in environmental politics together with or against local associations.

As other chapters in this book show (see Chap. 9 by Demmer and Chap. 2 by Rodary for example), New Caledonia-Kanaky possesses around a quarter of worldwide nickel reserves, and two major nickel processing plants were built in the last 20 years: Goro Nickel and Koniambo. We will explore how the two mining projects define the links between their environmental impacts, their responsibilities and political and democratic issues. The mining sector is at the core of the decolonisation process and of claims by the Kanak independence movement so that political questions have to be raised within this chapter. Political issues are also linked to environmental aspects of governance. We start with a discussion of environmental justice approaches and a presentation of our methods used, before giving a short history of the Goro Nickel and Koniambo projects and their environmental monitoring. The chapter finishes with a discussion of critical voices, scientific engagement in environmental monitoring and the impacts of the decolonisation process on mining politics.

2 Resource Governance and Conflicts

In their book on Governing Extractive Industries, Bebbington et al. (2018) analyse the contemporary politics of resource governance in Peru, Bolivia, Ghana and Zambia. They caution against seeing too much convergence across their case studies but conclude that some key elements of transnational couplings hinge around: “colonialism and post-colonialism; global commodity prices and domestic political and economic dynamics; state capitalism and neoliberalism; and corporate strategy and new investors” (Bebbington et al. 2018, p. 200). The authors highlight that in all four countries, resource extraction is still associated with the exercise of colonial power and conflicts, which was also the case in New Caledonia-Kanaky until the construction of the Koniambo smelter in the North.

A number of concepts link resources and conflicts, such as “resource wars” and the “resource curse” (Bridge 2004; Le Billon 2012, 2015; Watts 2004). Cooper (2006) argues that resource war narratives fade out the sociopolitical history and context of conflicts, which is shaped and overlaid by religious, environmental, political and/or social tensions. However, mining can be a catalyst and a driver for conflicts shaped by (capital) accumulation by dispossession and uneven benefit distribution. We suggest that resource conflicts can enhance, revive, intermingle with and/or shape (existing) tensions over land, customary issues, identity and religion. Conflicts are often driven by issues of social and environmental (in)justice, by marginalisation, and different perceptions of nature. According to Escobar (2006, p. 9), “many communities in the world signify their natural environment, and then use it, in ways that markedly contrast with the more commonly accepted way of seeing nature as a resource external to humans and which humans can appropriate in any way they see fit” (cited in Le Billon 2015). An appropriation of nature includes forms of accumulation by dispossession (Harvey 2003) through “land grabs” by globalised corporations for resource extraction, extensive cattle farming or conservation. There are parallels between contemporary reports on “accumulation by dispossession” and historical enclosures under earlier phases of capitalism (Glassman 2006). Capitalism, just like neoliberalism, is inherently an environmental project. The hybrid “socio-natural” character of resources themselves reveals the complexity of conflicts.

A complex (post)colonial context in New Caledonia-Kanaky influenced mining development in the North of the country. Le Billon (2015, p. 182) defines “the idea that people in general will ‘naturally’ fight over resources rather than find cooperative solutions” as a “pathologization of social conduct in relation to resource control”. Major struggles emerge over resources because the transformation of uneven power relations is at stake (Bryant and Bailey 1997). In New Caledonia-Kanaky, we will show that “resistance” to mining and smelting, sometimes violent, has helped negotiation and rethinking of some aspects of projects. Resistance and violent opposition often emerge when local people are not respected, or the way in which the negotiations are conducted is unsatisfactory for local communities. The Goro Nickel example shows how (violent) opposition can turn into negotiation and cooperation, which does not mean that conflicts are avoided or that uneven power relations no longer remain.

Many Indigenous people in the world claim their rights to the land of ancestors impacted by mining and other economic projects. The Goro Nickel project is also an example where Indigenous Kanak people used the UN Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples from 2007 as a bargaining tool, since in Article 28.1:

(…) indigenous peoples have the right to redress, by means that can include restitution or, when this is not possible, just, fair and equitable compensation, for the lands, territories and resources which they have traditionally owned or otherwise occupied or used, and which have been confiscated, taken, occupied, used or damaged without their free, prior and informed consent. (UN 2008, p. 10)

3 Environmental Justice and Management

Historical processes of environmental degradation and resource dispossessions are a component of environmental injustice (Le Billon and Duffy 2018; Pellow et al. 2001). New Caledonia-Kanaky was mined from the 1860s onwards (Bencivengo 2014), and for decades, “Société Le Nickel” (SLN) – a French company founded in 1880 (Filer and Le Meur 2017) and today a subsidiary of the multinational group Eramet – had a monopoly on nickel processing. Its smelter, Doniambo, was inaugurated in 1910 as the only processing plant until the construction of Goro Nickel and Koniambo around a hundred years later. The Indigenous Kanak were excluded from working in the nickel sector for many decades. Only after World War II did they get jobs, for example, as truckdrivers. In addition, subcontracting arrangements for Kanak enterprises have grown since the 1990s, with the development of more mines in the North Province (Le Meur et al. 2012).

Environmental justice (EJ) goes to back to Robert D. Bullard who campaigned against environmental racism in the USA. Bullard et al. (1997, p. 65) highlighted that the EJ framework rests “on an ethical analysis of strategies to eliminate unfair, unjust, and unequitable conditions, and decisions”. An unequal distribution of burdens and benefits often applies to the extractive industries. While private and state mining companies seek highly profitable growth, Indigenous and other local peoples have been especially susceptible to marginalisation and the destruction of livelihoods (O’Faircheallaigh 2013). Indigenous communities, who often lack political influence because of their small numbers combined with discrimination and social disadvantage, rely heavily on land and natural resources affected by mining activities. Moreover, they are vulnerable to the settlement of immigrant populations.

Distributive justice has not favoured Kanak communities (Svarstad and Benjaminsen 2020). According to Schlosberg (2004), distributive justice is one of three core elements of radical environmental justice (EJ) – together with recognition-based and procedural justice (see also Svarstad and Benjaminsen 2020). There are (unequal) distribution of burdens and (financial) benefits related to environmental interventions, including extractive operations. Distributive justice includes principles such as vulnerability, need and responsibility. Originators of environmental destruction should take responsibility for their actions and fix the problem and/or compensate those who have endured the burdens (Walker 2012).

In general, the balancing of costs and burdens of mining development against opportunities (jobs, subcontracting, royalties, etc.) has rarely been balanced. Indigenous people often lack capacity to influence and set the terms under which mining operations occur on their lands. O’Faircheallaigh (2018) has developed criteria for evaluating agreements that have emerged from negotiations between Aboriginal peoples and mining companies in Australia. The criteria, which can be applied elsewhere, include the dimensions of environmental management, cultural heritage protection, rights and interests in land, financial payments, employment and training and business development. The dimension of environmental management is particularly interesting for this chapter. For assessing environmental management provisions, O’Faircheallaigh (2018) sets up eight criteria from −1 to +6. The worst case are provisions that limit existing rights of Indigenous and local people. In the best case, Indigenous people have the capacity to act unilaterally to deal with environmental issues associated with the mining project (Table 8.1).

Table 8.1 Criteria for assessing environmental management provisions according to O’Faircheallaigh (2018) (modified)

According to Wang (2015), criteria 4, 5 and 6 may represent an opportunity for Indigenous communities to redress long-standing grievances and to gain customary legitimacy among their members. Local (traditional) knowledge and experience should form part of sustainable environmental management, in which case Indigenous people can become active environmental agents, “contributing to surveillance of protected areas and their own communities through self-disciplining” (Wang 2015, p. 326). Empowerment and inclusion can amount to a reaffirmation of the otherness of Indigenous peoples (Wilder 1997). It can also play a critical role in reducing vulnerability of local communities that are “victims” of environmental impacts. From the perspective of multinational companies, environmental monitoring can be entrusted, in part, to local Indigenous communities to benefit from their knowledge but also to pacify tensions and conflicts. Companies can also strengthen customary and land legitimacy of Indigenous clans. But Indigenous communities often have no option to disengage. They do not have the option to move elsewhere since land is imbued with cultural identity and emotional significance (Horowitz et al. 2018). Thus, they may face the choice between resisting or negotiating some (financial and economic) benefits, perhaps with cooperation in environmental monitoring.

In the following section, we will see how claims and negotiations on environmental justice and monitoring, decolonisation and equal benefit sharing articulate in New Caledonia-Kanaky in the two large-scale nickel projects over the last 20 years.

4 Methods and Engagement

We carried out interviews between 2008 and 2022 with representatives of the environmental organisations ŒIL (Observatoire de l’environnement Nouvelle Calédonie), CCCE (Comité Consultatif Coutumier Environnemental) and CEK (Comité Environment Koniambo)/Environord, with members of the customary committee “Rhéébù Nùù” and with representatives of the mining companies Vale and KNS (Koniambo Nickel SAS, a joint-venture between the Indigenous Kanak-driven company SMSP and Glencore). The number of interviewees was balanced between the different actors involved with a slight bias towards customary and NGO representatives (Environord, Rhéébù Nùù) and to Kanak people working in the mining sector. We posed questions on environmental impacts and monitoring, conflicts and benefit sharing. Most of the interviews were not recorded, because of their sensitivity. In addition to interviews, we conducted participatory observations at meetings and conferences including at the mines, with NGOs (such as Environord) and with politicians and customary representatives.

We both conducted our PhD research on mining governance in New Caledonia, including several months of fieldwork. In addition, one of the authors worked as a postdoc at the French National Research Institute for Sustainable Development (IRD) in Nouméa and as a lecturer at University of New Caledonia. He also lived for 2 years in the community of Baco in the neighbourhood of the Koniambo project, welcomed by a Kanak family. Over time, social relations have become real friendships, with many repeated visits (Kowasch 2014). This position raises challenges: it contributes to critical engagement (Fisher 2008) and a state of “between-ness” (Nast 1994), but care is needed when conducting ethnographic fieldwork and or consultancy (Kirsch 2018).

One author did do a consultancy study for KNS (see Rosner et al. 2016). He did not experience any restrictions in expressing his opinion in the final report and used the information for other research projects and publications without KNS’s prior approval. KNS is keen to use the Koniambo project for economic and political emancipation and to engage with scientists. Having access to mining companies can provide a better understanding of their socio-environmental and political impacts. Some information is included in this chapter, and following Batterbury (2019) and Baird (2014), we both agree that engaged academic research can be useful.

5 Contextualisation of Two Major Nickel Projects: Goro Nickel and Koniambo

The nickel sector is the engine of the New Caledonian economy. Although it contributed only 4.1% to the New Caledonian GDP in 2017 (it has fluctuated between 3% and 9% over the last 10 years), the sector represented 91.4% of export values, rising to 93.9% in 2019 (ISEE 2020). An ISEE study on the impacts of nickel (2020) estimated that a quarter of private sector employees depend directly or indirectly on nickel exploitation in New Caledonia-Kanaky. The overall wealth generated by the nickel sector amounts to 1.15 billion euros, that is, 20% of the market wealth created in 2019. This includes activities directly or indirectly linked to the sector, including household consumption.

The extraction of nickel ores (saprolites) began to increase significantly in the 1950s, as Fig. 8.1 clearly shows, and is now at a historic high. However, laterite ores, present to the south of Noumea and fuelling the Goro Nickel project, were only exploited from the 1990s.

Fig. 8.1

Extraction of nickel ores from 1875 to 2020 in wet tons. (Sources: ISEE and DIMENC, adapted by Bouard (cited in Bencivengo and Bouard 2021))

Figure 8.2 shows the ten largest producers of nickel ores worldwide and their production in the time span between 2017 and 2021. In 2017, New Caledonia-Kanaky was the fourth largest producer of nickel ores; in 2021, the Pacific archipelago is still at the fourth place, behind Indonesia (whose production is rapidly increasing), the Philippines and Russia. In 2022, New Caledonia-Kanaky produced 190,000 tons of nickel ores, compared to 186,284 in 2021 (Garside 2022; Reichl and Schatz 2023).

Fig. 8.2

Major countries in worldwide nickel ores production in metric tons from 2017 to 2022. (Source: Reichl and Schatz 2023)

Ferronickel, which contains approximately 35% nickel and 65% iron, is the most important refined nickel product from the territory. New Caledonia-Kanaky is the second largest producer of ferronickel worldwide, with a production share of 9.31%, but far behind Indonesia (53.3%). In 2019, 75% of metals exported were ferronickel, 16% NiO (nickel oxide), 7% NHC (nickel hydroxide cake) and 2% CoCO₃ (cobalt carbonate) (ISEE 2022). While the Koniambo smelter produces ferronickel (as does the old Doniambo processing plant in Nouméa), Goro Nickel’s final products are NiO, NHC and CoCO₃.

5.1 Goro Nickel

In 2003, the Canadian mining company Inco (later to become Vale, which is the largest company worldwide based on 2017 production totals) started to build a processing plant in the South of New Caledonia on the Goro plateau, with a future annual production output of 60,000 t of nickel and 4500 t of cobalt (Fig. 8.4). The mine, with an area of approximately 21 ha, had a life expectance of 29 years. It is open cast, and laterite ores are dug to a depth of 50–60 m (Mining Technology 2019). Nickel (oxide and hydroxide cake) and cobalt are delivered by a conveyor to the Prony Port, from where 4500 containers can be exported annually. After substantial delays during the construction, the processing plant and the mine opened in 2010. The shareholding was Vale (95%), and SPMSC (Société de Participation Minière du Sud Calédonien), a public mining holding company supported by the three provinces of New Caledonia-Kanaky, had 5% (Fig. 8.3).

Fig. 8.3

Nickel mines and smelters in New Caledonia-Kanaky in 2020. (Source: https://georep.nc/, cartography: Kowasch 2020)

The hydrometallurgical process of the Goro Nickel project means a discharge of wastewaters (36,000 m³ per day) including manganese and chrome into the New Caledonian fringing lagoon via a 24-km-long pipeline lying on the sea floor at a depth of 35 m. The wastewaters were a major reason why the project attracted violent protests by local Kanak clans and environmental organisations during its construction phase. To reduce environmental impacts, Vale Nouvelle-Calédonie declared that the group has invested about € 850 million for environmental monitoring and repairs or 21% of the total investment of the company (Vale 2016). But the most dangerous impact has been almost entirely ignored. According to Horowitz (2019), mercury used in the coal-fired power plant will contaminate seafood, upon which local communities depend for subsistence.

Several environmental incidents occurred and even led to suspending metal production for 6 months in 2012 following spills. Other environmental impacts include the damage of an oak forest located near the smelter in 2011 (particularly gum oaks, an endemic species) and the leak of an acid process solution in May 2014 in the creek of the North Bay, because of a human error: thousands of fish and shellfish died. In February 2019, the Nouméa Court ordered Vale to pay around € 92,000 to an environmental association for the moral and ecological damage suffered in two separate episodes (NC la 1ère 2019). This legal conviction was not the first one for Vale related to environmental damage. In practice, Vale never fully mastered the high-pressure-acid-lead (HPAL) technology used to convert ore to nickel oxides (Reuters 2018).

Despite the troubled history of the Goro Nickel project, the processing plant (Fig. 8.4) produced 2780 t of cobalt and 40,300 t of nickel in 2017, its sixth year of operation (Vale 2018; Reuters 2018). According to Eduardo Bartolomeo, the head of the company’s base metals division, Vale commissioned a “very detailed study to know exactly why we can’t achieve our nameplate capacity” (Reuters 2018). The goal became to invest $500 million for the period 2019–2022 to get the plant operating at 50,000 t per year of nickel products (ibid. 2018; Horowitz 2019). The real incentive was the coming “electric vehicle revolution” (EVR), to turn its nickel division around. Indeed, nickel is vital to lithium batteries, in part at the expense of cobalt on price and supply stability grounds. Five years ago, however, this seemed to lie in the future, because batteries only accounted for approximately 5% of total nickel demand (ibid. 2018). Vale found big investment in the EVR to be risky at the time, although more recent events after they sold the mine proved them wrong.

Fig. 8.4

Goro Nickel smelter. (Credit: Kowasch 2009)

In November 2019, between the first two referendums on political independence (in 2018 and 2020) (see Chap. 18 by Fisher in this book), Vale announced it would close the nickel refinery due to technical and financial problems. “We are unable to produce sufficient nickel. It is therefore better to limit the damage and close the processing plant with approximately 90 jobs than the entire operation in New Caledonia and leave 1,300 people on the street”, said Pierre Tuiteala, the manager of the Soenc-Nickel (employees and workers union in New Caledonia). Vale planned to maintain cobalt production, increase the amount of NHC (low-grade nickel) and export crude ores. Representatives of the Brazilian company presented their strategy to the New Caledonian parliament and explained that the planned exports of raw ores should be around two million tons per year. However, exporting raw ore is a complex political issue, with several interests wishing to see it processed before export. The approval process was difficult and needed an amendment to the mining law (Outremers 360° 2019).

In April 2020, SOFINOR, a public investment company of the North Province, expressed interest in acquiring the Goro plant, in partnership with Korea Zinc, a leading global metal producer. Under the bid, the three provinces would jointly get a majority stake in the new company and control of the smelter. But conservative politicians in Nouméa opposed SOFINOR’s influence in the South Province, because it is governed by an anti-independence party. Negotiations between Vale and the Australian company New Century Resources were also suspended in September 2020 after local opposition. At the end of October, Antonin Beurrier, the CEO of Vale Nouvelle-Calédonie, surprisingly announced the creation of a new company “Prony Resources Nouvelle-Calédonie”. Over half of the shares in the future Goro Nickel project would be held by New Caledonian interests, while the Swiss commodities trader Trafigura would hold another quarter. The independence movement disagreed that Trafigura should be given preference over the SOFINOR/Korea Zinc offer. They said Trafigura was only interested in buying the smelter and mining titles to sell on when the market for nickel was more active, in order to maximise profits. Violent protests against Trafigura disrupted the New Caledonian economy, but Korea Zinc formally withdrew its bid on 7th December. A day later, Vale accepted the offer of Prony Resources and Trafigura.

The deal was signed in March 2021 and provided a 30% shareholding by the SPMSC. Another 21% went to the company’s employees and the local population, bringing New Caledonia’s share in Goro Nickel to 51%. The newly founded finance company Prony Resources (founded by Antonin Beurrier) will get 30% of the shares, and only 19% go to Trafigura. The participation of Trafigura was contested throughout by two local initiatives, the “Usine du Sud = Usine Pays” (Plant of the South = Plant of the Country) and “Instance Coutumière Autochtone de Négociation” (ICAN) (Indigenous Customary Negotiating Body), composed of eight senior chiefs of the Djubea-Kapumë customary area, the Drubéa-Kapumë customary council and the Rhéébù Nùù committee. They finally accepted that the 51% shareholding belonging to local interests was sufficient. The contract also included clauses about environmental protection. But end of 2023, Goro Nickel is in financial difficulties again, and the smelter is placed under conciliation proceedings.

Most of the workers at Goro Nickel live in Nouméa and commute to the plant, approximately 70–80 km away. The Kanak communities in the vicinity of the mine (Goro, Touaourou, Waho and Unia) and the smelter have not experienced strong in-migration and economic development from the mining project. The capital city profits economically, and the South Province government has always supported the project, against local (environmental and customary) opposition.

Vale has engaged in various participatory and environmental monitoring initiatives. Those initiatives are internal or externally led, but continuing environmental and customary conflicts have given rise to new political identities composed of Indigenous groups presenting themselves as environmental activists, which we will analyse in the next section.

5.2 Koniambo

The Koniambo project (Figs. 8.3 and 8.5) has a powerful symbolic importance for the Kanak independence movement that governs the North Province of New Caledonia-Kanaky (Fisher 2013; Pitoiset and Wéry 2008; Kowasch 2010, 2018; Kowasch et al. 2015). In the 1990s, political leaders of the North Province and the small mining company SMSP (owned by the North Province) began a search for an industrial partner to build a nickel processing plant in the province. This was part of the “rebalancing” goals established by the Matignon-Oudinot Accords in 1988. Since then, three-quarters of the finance released in French development contracts has gone to the North Province and the Province of Loyalty Islands and only one-quarter to the South Province (based on the budget of 1988) (Kowasch 2012a), where 74.4% of the total population live (Census 2014; ISEE 2016). The North Province, where 70% of the population are Kanak (ISEE 2016), lags significantly behind the South in economic terms (Kowasch 2018). Overall, three out of four jobs are located in Greater Nouméa (David et al. 1999; ISEE 2016; Kowasch 2012a, 2018), and a large majority of enterprises are located in the South Province (74.9%), where 33% of the population is European and “only” 26% are Kanak (ISEE 2016).

Fig. 8.5

Koniambo smelter. (Credit: Kowasch 2009)

The political authorities of the North Province long argued for localising the nickel industry in the North, using it to drive an urban growth pole close to a processing plant. The Bercy agreement in 1998 fixed an exchange of mining titles between the Poum massif (in the ownership of SMSP) and the Koniambo massif (in the ownership of SLN) (see Chap. 9 by Demmer in this book). This allowed the Koniambo project to proceed with an industrial partner, which was initially Falconbridge (49% of the shares) and the local SMSP (51%). While Falconbridge brought financial means and technical know-how into the new joint venture, SMSP yielded the mining titles and had the support of the local population. After the signature of the Bercy agreement, the construction of a nickel smelter started in 2006. Some months later, in August 2006, the Swiss group Xstrata took over Falconbridge and became the new partner of the Kanak-driven SMSP. In 2014, the Koniambo nickel smelter was finally inaugurated, in the presence of the French president François Hollande.

Typical for the fast-changing mining sector, in 2013, ownership changed again, when the British-Swiss commodity trading and mining company Glencore completed the takeover of Xstrata and acquired the 49% shareholding. The composition of the project did not change, but other Glencore operations were exposed for violating human rights, having working conditions resembling slavery, corruption and poor environmental performance. These claims apply variously to the Kolwezi cobalt mines in DR Congo, the McArthur River Mine in Australia and the Tintaya and Antapaccay mines in Peru. In addition, between 2017 and 2019, the company spent “millions bankrolling a secret, globally coordinated campaign to prop up coal demand by undermining environmental activists, influencing politicians and spreading sophisticated pro-coal messaging on social media” (The Guardian 2019). Due to weak nickel market conditions and to unprofitable operations, Glencore decided on 12 February 2024 to sell its 49% stake in Koniambo, leading to a six-month period in which the smelter’s furnaces will remain hot to maintain the viability of the site (Reuters 2024; pers. information, 2024). Both companies, SMSP and Glencore, assure they will look for a new industrial partner for KNS.

The Koniambo project in northern New Caledonia includes the Koniambo mountaintop mine, a large processing plant using a pyrometallurgical process, a deep-water port and a coal-fired power plant on Vavouto peninsula (Fig. 8.5). The urban growth pole project has advanced over the last 15 years, and the population has risen to about 11,000 people in the three nearby municipalities Voh, Koné and Pouembout (VKP). The Indigenous communities living in the vicinity of the smelter mostly support the project (Kowasch 2010; Rosner et al. 2016), but it is conflictual for many people to dig up the rugged mountains that constitute ancestral land, while developing Western-style shopping and hotels, modern housing and new public facilities like a swimming pool, a movie theatre and bike tracks (Batterbury et al. 2020).

6 Environmental Monitoring at Goro Nickel and Koniambo

We now return to the crucial issue of the environmental performance of these two projects and how they should be monitored. Local communities in New Caledonia have long-term experience with environmental impacts resulting from mining activities since nickel deposits were discovered in 1876. Environmental impacts are a major concern for both projects. The following section thus discusses how environmental conflicts and monitoring were negotiated.

6.1 Goro Nickel

In 2002, Indigenous communities in Yaté, the most southerly municipality of New Caledonia, formed “Rhéébù Nùù” (which means “eye of the country”), a customary association, in order to start discussions about the Goro Nickel project and to monitor its (future) environmental impacts. Rhéébù Nùù was initially strongly opposed to the scale and to the location of the project and organised blockades of the construction site, engaged in acts of vandalism and initiated legal action against the mining company. The customary association accused Inco of ignoring international environmental norms and disrupting sacred and taboo places. Moreover, Rhéébù Nùù worried that the pollution might have implications for human health. Horowitz describes the most violent acts by members of the association that occurred in October 2006: “Destroying equipment and infrastructure, they [the activists] dug trenches and set up barriers made of cars and burning tires, blocking access to the site”. The next day, they “were joined by 100 more activists as well as 200 gendarmes who released teargas on the activists and fired on a pick-up truck that was charging at them” (2009, p. 248). She pointed out that Rhéébù Nùù members not only “destroy company equipment; they also targeted fellow community members” (2009, p. 256), who did not agree with the violent acts against the mining project.

To resolve the conflict, the provincial government created a Committee for Information, Consultation and Environmental Monitoring (CICS) in 2004 (Horowitz 2011). This committee was intended to bring the mining company, Caledonian politicians, public services, local communities and (scientific) experts to the table. One major role was to answer the questions raised about manganese discharge into the lagoon. With support of environmental associations, Rhéébù Nùù showed that no viable studies could determine the impact of the wastewater. CICS discussed the choice of experts and what measures should be taken to control environmental impacts of the mining operations. At the first CICS meetings, Rhéébù Nùù was then considered as a misinformed actor, and their concerns about environmental impacts were minimised. Their demands did not seem legitimate to the others involved. But at the following meetings, the customary association assumed a role as “non-specialist counter-expert” (Interview, 2014). They were able to discuss technical, political or ethical uncertainties about the scientific studies of wastewater and were recognised as a legitimate actor in environmental monitoring (Merlin 2014). The last meeting of CICS aimed to concretise an agreement with Vale, the “Pact for Sustainable Development of the Big South”, and to create a new environmental monitoring association, called “ŒIL”. Despite the violent opposition to the project in its early years, Rhéébù Nùù signed the pact in September 2008 – after winning the council election in Yaté. Through this IBA, the mining company committed the following:

• (a) To an extensive reforestation programme

• (b) To create a Consultative Customary Environmental Committee (CCCE)

• (c) To create a Corporate Foundation to finance local development initiatives (educational, economic and sociocultural) (Vale et al. 2008)

The support from Vale was for three programmes with € 14 million (CCCE), € 45.56 million (foundation) and € 20.1 million (reforestation programme) over a period of 30 years (Vale 2013). In exchange for Vale’s commitment, Rhéébù Nùù renounced violent or illegal actions (Vale et al. 2008). Thus, all protests were extinguished. By their about-face on the project, Rhéébù Nùù members sought to gain (back) legitimacy and power, because the association became a principal representative of local Indigenous communities. The declaration of Rhéébù Nùù to transform into a political party and to compete in council elections in the municipality of Yaté – and win the elections – was a key part of their campaign. However, the committee still continued fighting for environmental justice, but benefit sharing and gaining (customary) legitimacy were officially recognised, although they had existed already.

Financed by Vale, the CCCE recruited and trained seven “environmental technicians” and an engineer, integrated into Vale’s environment department. The aim was to ensure the participation of customary authorities in environmental monitoring and the consideration of traditional Kanak knowledge. It has published a monthly environmental monitoring newsletter. The December 2018 issue, the most recent on the homepage as of December 2022, indicates that the effluent into the lagoon was 100% in accordance with norms (CCCE 2019a). Two minor incidents were detected related to the environmental performance of the smelter and the mine. The CCCE also (co)finances and publishes reports and studies realised by scientists of IRD based in Nouméa or other research institutions and engineering companies. In 2017 and 2018 for example, CCCE published four reports, two of them together with ŒIL (CCCE 2019b): (a) a study of maritime traffic in the South Grand Lagoon in order to assess the risk of collision and disturbance for the humpback whale population of New Caledonia (Bourgogne et al. 2018); (b) a synthesis of studies on humpback whale distribution dynamics in southern New Caledonia (Derville and Garrigue 2017); (c) data acquisition from a network of reference stations in freshwater environments: physical chemistry and benthic macro-invertebrates (Mary 2017); and (d) participatory monitoring of the reefs of the Great South (Job 2017). In addition, the committee has published annual reports of its activities. There has, however, been no output since the end of 2018.

Vale (co)financed this research through the intermediary of the CCCE. The committee is partly involved in environmental monitoring, even if this work does not always directly concern the mining project (e.g. the studies of humpback whales).

One year after the signature of the “Pact for Sustainable Development of the Big South”, in 2009, the South Province decided to establish ŒIL. Unlike the CCCE, the association appears to be independent vis-à-vis the mining company, even if the latter participates in its financing. ŒIL, which is composed of members, voluntary experts and a secretariat whose employees earn wages, is a “hybrid forum” (Callon et al. 2001). Public and private participation mingles and members include six different groups: (public) institutions, municipalities (Yaté and Mont-Dore), representatives of locale communities, environmental associations, the private sector (the mining company) and a consortium of economic actors. The objective of ŒIL, which is still functioning, is to produce environmental indicators to monitor the impact of Goro Nickel. Since 2013, for example, it has coordinated the Acropora project, part of the New Caledonia Coral Reef Observation Network (RORC, initiated in 1997). In 2019, six out of nine coral reefs close to the plant were in good health, two were satisfactory and one mediocre. Over time, reef health has been maintained for eight of the nine. The indicators include coral cover, invertebrate and fish density, coral breakage and necrosis and presence of rubbish and fishing gear (ŒIL 2020).

ŒIL continued its work after the smelter and mine were sold in 2021. The CCCE was affected when members of the committee participated in sometimes violent demonstrations about mine ownership in 2020 (“Usine du Sud = Usine Pays”). In December, there was property damage at the smelter, and the French High Commission in Nouméa ordered protests be broken up, echoing the law-and-order rhetoric of the South Province leadership (Maclellan 2020). In response, French anti-independence proponents armed with hunting rifles mounted roadblocks, at least until the transport of weapons was banned. “Usine du Sud = Usine Pays” and ICAN argued Vale was selling the project while leaving behind a big environmental mess. The various movements, including those involved in environmental monitoring, wanted New Caledonian control of the business, rather than another multinational player. This was finally obtained, even if the Swiss trader Trafigura remains a partner in the new consortium.

There is a very different pattern of participation and environmental monitoring around the Koniambo project. Local communities are more invested in it economically, and the question of environmental impacts is raised differently.

6.2 Koniambo

On 14 February 2007, the North Province and the mining company KNS signed a voluntary environmental charter concerning the minimisation of environmental harms from Koniambo. An environmental committee was created to assess the various mining impacts across the region, including environmental quality and subsistence activities like agriculture, hunting and fishing. The “Comité Environnemental Koniambo” (CEK) also had watershed protection as an aim and monitors the effects of mountaintop mining on plants and animals. The environmental charter mandated the gradual restoration of mine sites with endemic species during the operation phase. The aims of CEK can be summarised as follows (CEK 2010a; Kowasch 2010):

• To implement the environmental charter

• To contribute to the consultation and information process based on the results of the environmental monitoring programme of KNS

• To provide stakeholders in the North Province with information about environmental policies and measures

• To deal with any environmental issues related to the Koniambo project

• To bring elements of analysis and reflection to the mining company

• To communicate on the techniques and studies concerning environmental protection

The CEK, whose chair was Jacques Loquet, a former mine worker, had 18 members and could set up working groups. It included representatives from the mining company, the French state, the provincial government, public institutions (mostly Kanak in this region), the municipalities, customary representatives (one became the president) and environmental associations. Meetings required the presence of at least three-quarters of the members. The work of the members was voluntary, but compensation was provided for their function or mandate. KNS helped with secretarial support.

While the structure of CEK looked to be representative, they were forced to reflect on their structure and ability to communicate. An information hub was not developed, due to a lack of financial resources. While environmental associations regularly attended the meetings, customary authorities did not, lacking transport or having overlapping commitments (with customary affairs in particular). They also felt that environmental measures in the field were insufficient, lacking enough communication, consultation and investigation. According to the committee, the environmental monitoring method was not effective, and the tasks were performed anarchically, without developing any significant indicators of project performance. Loquet proposed four solutions (Kowasch 2010):

• (a) The CEK leaves the mining company KNS to carry out its actions and work independently.

• (b) The CEK remains within KNS but is given the means to carry out its mission properly.

• (c) The CEK accepts a solution recommended by KNS: the creation of a legal entity.

• (d) The CEK develops a different internal/external strategy.

The choice to leave the company required (a) creating a new (independent) environmental association or joining an existing one. As Rhéébù Nùù’s experience in the South demonstrated, the environmental struggle is best fought external to company control. New members could be recruited, although probably hostile to the Koniambo project. The disadvantage would be the lack of access to mining operator documents, and the committee wanted to retain an element of neutrality in the face of public scrutiny of its actions.

Choice b included the risk of being an organisation denounced as too closely aligned with KNS, without a legal framework or its own budget. KNS would have to provide the means for its operation. Nonetheless, it would have access to data and internal information.

The creation of a legal entity (choice c), an association with its own operating resources and budget, had advantages for the mining company, because it would not have to deal with the budget and the activities of the committee. The question of who would appoint the president and how customary representatives could be integrated into the CEK remained.

As for a dual internal/external strategy (choice d), questions would be raised about regulating disagreements and separating environmental analysis from implementation. A dual strategy would make it possible to put pressure on the ground but only if the committee has the means and power. Independent scientists could be funded to carry out impact studies, which would increase credibility in the eyes of the local population.

Events came to a head when CEK organised a visit to the future smelter for “opponents” from the proximate Kanak community of Oundjo, thus leading to accusations from other more supportive clans that the committee had lost credibility. At the end of September 2008, KNS proposed that CEK worked from outside [option a or c]. For Loquet, this was telling, suggesting KNS wanted: “to get rid of a baby who is becoming too cumbersome and too greedy because he/she wants to grow up” (CEK 2008). Loquet complained that the work of the committee was little understood by the local population. At a meeting in the Kanak village of Temala, an Oundjo fisherman confirmed: “We know you exist but we don’t know what you are doing” (CEK 2010b, p. 2). The CEK’s room for manoeuvre remained narrow. The committee was not integrated into the environmental monitoring meetings of the project and therefore did not participate in KNS’s environmental decisions. They continued for a few years, but an external evaluation of the CEK in 2016 revealed that the committee was again regarded as an organisation under control of the mining company.

In 2017, CEK finally left KNS to form an independent environmental association, called “Environord” (Interview Loquet, 16/8/2019). KNS supplied financing of the new association for its first years. Environord now organises monthly meetings that are attended by KNS representatives (from the company environment department and/or its small community relations team; interview, October 2022), environmental and citizen associations and customary representatives. But the association has only two employees, one is permanent and the other one fixed-term. Environord now has responsibility for air quality monitoring, which shows a degree of confidence of KNS towards the association. Nevertheless, it remains a challenge to find qualified local people to undertake such studies (Interview Loquet, 16/8/2019). Environord seeks to collaborate with other actors in environmental research projects but still lacks financial means.

7 Discussion: Positioning and Legitimacy

7.1 Colonialism and Postcolonialism

As other chapters show (e.g. by Batterbury et al.), the independence leader Jean-Marie Tjibaou (murdered in 1988) transformed Kanak senses of self and identity, when he asked “Where do we come from? Who are we? Where are we going?” (Tjibaou 2005, cited in Fisher 2014, p. 1–2). Since then, Kanak political leaders have “increasingly talked about ‘recognition of identity’, ‘decolonisation’ and ‘full accession to sovereignty’ rather more than independence” (ibid. 2014, p. 10). Their involvement in the nickel sector is a crucial element for most Kanak political leaders to accede to economic and political sovereignty. In 1995, the economist Jean Freyss noted that “the battle for development becomes the instrument of Kanak combat” (1995, p. 59; see also Demmer 2002; Mokaddem 2010; Kowasch 2012b). The strategy of the independence party FLNKS is to build economic and political independence, using nickel processing to create added value (Demmer 2007). The real purpose is not profit-making but a political goal, differing somewhat from Rhéébù Nùù’s discourse which was about Indigenous rights nested within their environmental protest against Goro Nickel. Their claim was that Indigenous peoples are closer to nature, work with less advanced and polluting technologies and defend biodiversity as knowledgeable users of natural resources. But the broader independence movement, led by its signature Koniambo project in the North, has taken a different view and pursued an industrial strategy to support rights and recognition.

FLNKS independence leaders have very rarely been defenders of a fetishised tradition and identity politics that seeks recognition in law (Demmer and Salomon 2013). The FLNKS wants to use the mining sector as an instrument for economic and political emancipation, and this explained the great support that neighbouring Indigenous communities gave to the Koniambo project. They still perceive Koniambo to be “their project” in order to generate employment and services and “development” (Kowasch 2018). To a certain extent, this has muted criticism against the project among Indigenous communities close by, and can make Environord’s role somewhat delicate. Environmental justice is an integral part of Kanak culture, but environmental impacts of mining projects are often described as the “price to pay” for new jobs and political emancipation (ibid. 2018).

The discourse of Rhéébù Nùù also changed in recent times, approaching or even agreeing to the FLNKS strategy. Many members of the committee integrated the newly founded initiatives ICAN (Indigenous Customary Negotiating Body) and “Usine du Sud – Usine Pays”, which both supported a majority shareholding of SOFINOR/Korea Zinc in the Goro Nickel project (applying the 51/49% model known from Koniambo). But anti-independence politicians were opposed to an expansion of SOFINOR to the South. Sonia Backès, the leader of the anti-independence coalition “Avenir en Confiance” and president of the South Province, argued that “those who are proposing this want to economically colonise the Southern Province” (Maclellan 2020). Backès, who supported Emmanuel Macron for the French presidential elections in 2022, is strongly opposed to an independent New Caledonia-Kanaky. Known for her reactions to critical journalists, she told the UN Special Committee on Decolonisation that in New Caledonia, there are no longer any colonised peoples (NC 1ère 2021). After difficult negotiations, the final compromise for control of the Goro Nickel project was a 51% shareholding for the “country” including SPMSC (30%), company employees and local communities (21%). Although not a shareholder, the American electric car giant Tesla has joined as a technical advisor to improve the industrial process, since it needs the “ethical nickel”. The mining titles of the Goro deposit will be held by the South Province (via PromoSud) and will give rise to royalties. Backès says the agreement is a new model based on control, development of wealth and environmental protection. But it is still a huge and quite destructive nickel mine. Mining companies such as KNS acknowledge that (opencast) mining must reduce its (massive) environmental damage. In the next section, we discuss in more general terms the role of local organisations in this huge challenge.

7.2 Legitimacy and Critical Voices

Local communities in New Caledonia-Kanaky wonder if CCCE, ŒIL, Rhéébù Nùù and Environord can monitor mining companies effectively and importantly, actually hold them to account. If they can, it is a source of hope for other local battles with mining companies worldwide. But how can organisations and association have legitimacy and acceptance when they are funded by the company they are monitoring?

In the South, the Pact has negated the “ability to protest” (Horowitz 2014, p. 98). Some of the Rhéébù Nùù members expressed regret about signing it and wondered whether they had “signed too quickly” (ibid. 2014, p. 98). In the North, the former CEK president of Environord regretted the lack of finance and operational support, constraining its freedom. Both mining companies, Vale and KNS, benefit from New Caledonia’s neoliberalised regulatory and fiscal policy environments (Horowitz et al. 2018). Switches of tactics have been evident. In the South, Vale faced informal regulatory challenges from Rhéébù Nùù (ibid. 2018). Activists based their legitimacy on ties to customary authority. However, when protests became more violent, customary authorities felt uncomfortable supporting the committee and Vale and then switched tactics and brought customary authorities to the negotiating table in order to destabilize Rhéébù Nùù’s claims and legitimacy (Horowitz et al. 2018). The committee needed to ensure customary legitimacy so it accepted the Pact that its lawyer, and Vale’s lawyers, had negotiated. This seems an odd about-face; Rhéébù Nùù was defending Indigenous legitimacy, which was unfortunately controlled by Vale by that stage. The mining company wanted the “social license to operate” (Fisher et al. 1985), which was also the purpose of the “Pact”. Nonetheless, Rhéébù Nùù did not have support from all families and clans in the communities, and some customary authorities and villagers taunted the committee as being corrupted by the mining operator. The committee had accepted a degree of effluent flowing into the Caledonian lagoon, while getting financial compensation and support for onshore development projects. Therefore, customary legitimacy dropped away with the signature of the Pact with Vale. Rhéébù Nùù members – and the CCCE as well – were not perceived as legitimate representatives of all Kanak communities in the South. On the other side, the Pact shows that Rhéébù Nùù prioritised recognition (as partner for negotiation with Vale) over their environmental and economic concerns (Horowitz 2014). While ŒIL follows a scientific appoach, the representational strategy of Rhéébù Nùù is symbolic-historical-political in nature, too quickly coopted, and thus it ceased to be accepted by local communities as a legitimate representative.

The recently founded initiatives “Usine du Sud – Usine Pays” and ICAN do not want to be “neutral”. They defend a political position that meets the claims of the independence movement FLNKS: the control of natural resources by the territory. Environmental monitoring is one of their issues, largely organised and supported by Kanak independence activists. Nonetheless, it is embedded in their social-political claims for resource sovereignty, expressed as territorial majority shareholding in the project and greater benefit-sharing.

The Kanak band Humaa-gué is based in the Touaourou community, close to the Goro Nickel plant, and they have denounced environmental destruction in the neighbourhood of the Goro Nickel project (fieldwork, 2022). They are mostly in favour of the FLNKS approach to economic participation and political emancipation. Their Kaneka¹ song “Terre du sud” (Land of the South) addresses the issue. Here are the original and translated lyrics:

Terre du sud (2012)	Land of the south (2012)
Oh toi, l’industriel actif à deux pas de chez moi Regarde tout près de toi en contrebas dans ces vallées Tous ces gens-là qui vivent de cette eau venant de la terre Imagine un instant que tes enfants sont là parmi eux	Oh you, the mining company operating just a stone’s throw from my house Look very close to you, below in the valleys All these people who live from this water that comes from the earth Imagine for a moment that your children are there among them
Si cette terre du sud est l’avenir, Elle n’est pas le cobay de l’avenir industriel Si cette terre du sud est l’avenir, Elle n’est pas le cobay de l’avenir industriel Unissons-nous main dans la main Et travaillons pour un avenir meilleur	If this southern land is the future, It is not the testing ground of the mining operator If this southern land is the future, It is not the testing ground of the mining operator Let us unite hand in hand And let’s work for a better future
Si de nos jours encore, l’avenir dépend de cette cause Alors, dis-moi pourquoi cette science nous est encore occulte Si de nos jours encore, l’avenir dépend de cette cause Alors pourquoi occultes-tu le droit à nos valeurs	If even today, the future depends on this cause So, tell me why this science is still hidden to us If even today, the future depends on this cause Then why do you hide the right to our values
Si cette terre du sud est l’avenir, Elle n’est pas le cobay de l’avenir industriel Si cette terre du sud est l’avenir, Elle n’est pas le cobay de l’avenir industriel Unissons-nous main dans la main Et travaillons pour un avenir meilleur	If this southern land is the future, It is not the testing ground of the mining operator If this southern land is the future, It is not the testing ground of the mining operator Let us unite hand in hand And let’s work for a better future

In the North, Environord is still an ally of KNS. As highlighted, the purpose of the former CEK was to communicate the techniques and studies of KNS concerning environmental protection. Since the creation of Environord, the association has gained in self-awareness and “legitimacy” and acceptance, even though it still depends on KNS financially. Based on the model of ŒIL (which is also co-financed by a mining company), the association aims to conduct scientific studies or to award them to look for partners. In contrast to Rhéébù Nùù or ICAN, different actors of society are members, including public institutions, the local (provincial) government, the mining company and all local communities of the (VKP) region represented by customary representatives. KNS participates in (nearly) all meetings of the committee – in contrast to public institutions and the local government.

We argue that “participation” in an environmental association (here Environord, CCCE or ŒIL) is in fact another means of social control and discipline exercised by a mining operator, as Saldi et al. (2014) show for a case in Argentina. As this book shows, the question of local input into environmental monitoring is part of “a dispute between (individual) parties each with their own specific interests” (Zhouri 2015, p. 454), which is based on the existence and persistence of dissent (Mouffe 1999). ŒIL, CCCE and Environord play their part, but they are not totally distanced from the organisation they are monitoring. In the same way, land claims and conflicts between different Kanak clans in New Caledonia also instrumentalize economic projects such as mining to gain (customary) legitimacy and influence (Kowasch 2012b).

Referring back to O’Faircheallaigh’s (2018) criteria for assessing environmental management provisions (Table 8.1), using the capacity to act unilaterally to deal with environmental concerns or problems associated with the project is not really happening, because of the company support through funding. In contrast to the CCCE, ŒIL appears to be more independent from the mining company, although it does have some corporate financing. As a “hybrid forum” (Callon et al. 2001), ŒIL has an independent scientific committee and can conduct environmental studies without company consultation. However, the association cannot force the company to take certain measures or decisions. Since Environord is no longer an integrative component of KNS, the committee can independently evaluate environmental management systems and issues. It may also suggest ways of enhancing environmental management systems, but KNS is not obliged to address their suggestions. Moreover, Environord is too small to have all of its own finance. It is a tool to federate different actors from civil society to communicate about environmental protection measures. But negotiation with customary authorities has to occur directly, in the communities and at conferences with clan representatives and customary authorities.

KNS has a double perspective. Glencore (which currently withdraws from New Caldonia-Kanaky) has a profit motive and sees Environord as an instrument for environmental monitoring and communication. But in their 2020 sustainability report, reflecting the changing language of the times, the company wants to be an active and valued participant “in all the communities that host us” (Glencore 2020, p. 59). They also highlight that they pay “all relevant taxes, royalties and levies required by local and national regulation in our host countries” (ibid, p. 65). These are, however, quite favourable in New Caledonia-Kanaky.

8 Conclusion

According to O’Faircheallaigh (2018), environmental management provisions intermingle with social and political claims for benefit sharing and legitimacy, especially in a context of decolonisation. Questions of environmental and social justice (Svarstad and Benjaminsen 2020) thus play a key role in negotiations between local communities, environmental organisations and mining companies. The crucial challenges for mining companies, outside their responsibilities to shareholders, include reducing their environmental impacts, integrating local communities and demonstrating legitimacy in their environmental monitoring.

We have shown that Goro Nickel and Koniambo have different social-political contexts, dating back to the administrative division into three provinces in 1988 – one governed by an anti-independence party and two supporting independence. The Koniambo project in the North therefore had a completely different political independence strategy behind it, explaining its greater acceptance by the local Kanak people. Resistance against the mining project was muted and restrained. Rhéébù Nùù, by contrast, used environmental claims to raise customary legitimacy concerns in the South, initially with outright protest. ICAN, including Rhéébù Nùù members, later aligned their claims for the control of mining resources, similar to the FLNKS strategy in the North and also highlighted environmental damage.

By studying these environmental associations and committees, we have shown that “legitimacy” is always negotiated. The Koniambo project involves local businesspeople, urban planners and Kanak communities. It is an economic project with political intentions, which is very visible when traversing the growing urban agglomeration that has grown up alongside it. Since the beginning, the participation and inclusion of Kanak communities have been considered vital. Therefore, CEK and later Environord – despite its financial funding by KNS – benefit from broad legitimacy, whereas Rhéébù Nùù and ICAN in the South lack this.

In the efforts to hold both projects to account for any environmental damage, independent scientific studies seem to be better accepted. Greater legitimacy is given to studies that are financed by public services than by private companies, and Environord wants more public institutions such as the provincial government to co-finance its staff and scientific work. Environord has sought greater impartiality, based on the model of ŒIL in the South, but needs this to be financed. ICAN and Rhéébù Nùù took another path. From the viewpoint of its detractors, the latter sold its soul by signing an agreement with Vale after fighting against Goro Nickel, according to local opponents to the committee (various interviews between 2008 and 2014). CCCE is still not recognised by all Indigenous communities in the South. The acceptance of the latest deal in 2021 giving 51% of the Vale project to local actors will need strong evaluation after some years of operation, on social and environmental grounds.

Associations and committees can be instrumentalised by mining companies. We know that the involvement of Indigenous people is sometimes used by mining operators as a marketing façade. Even when they are trusted, the communication of scientific results remains problematic, especially when feeding back to local communities. New Caledonia-Kanaky has good levels of formal education, but scientific papers – if written in French – are often not distributed in villages and communities, and presentations mostly occur in the cities. Customary representatives sometimes do not attend meetings and participation, always recommended for any form on impact assessment, is a challenge for mining companies. Discussions have to take place on an equal footing. Of course, where the oral tradition is still present as in New Caledonia-Kanaky, the word will always reach the rest of the local community. But to change power relations between mining companies and local communities, a “swap” of (or at least participation in) decision-making concerning environmental monitoring and mining operations in general will be necessary.