Resources have become weapons and strategic assets.
In a mountain town hollowed out by decades of deindustrialization, South Korea is reopening a tungsten mine dormant since 1994 — not merely as an economic venture, but as a declaration that raw materials have become instruments of geopolitical power. The Sangdong mine's revival reflects a broader reckoning among developed nations who built their digital and green economies on supply chains running almost entirely through China. It is a story as old as civilization: the nation that controls the materials controls the future, and those who forgot that lesson are now paying to relearn it.
- China's grip on 80% of global tungsten — and dominance over dozens of other critical minerals — has left South Korea importing 95% of a metal essential to its own semiconductor industry, a vulnerability exposed brutally by the 2021 urea shortage that sent drivers panic-buying across the country.
- The $100 million Sangdong project is South Korea's most concrete answer to that exposure, with a 15-year U.S. military supply contract already signed and half of projected output earmarked for domestic use — turning a dormant hillside into a strategic asset.
- Globally, at least 30 critical mineral projects have launched outside China in four years, yet the $200 billion investment needed by 2030 remains ten times what is currently committed, and environmental opposition has already killed projects in Serbia and Minnesota.
- Tungsten prices have surged over 25% in a single year, but China is simultaneously accelerating its own mineral exploration, meaning the window for competitive alternatives may be narrower than policymakers hope.
- For Sangdong's 1,000 remaining residents — down from 30,000 at the mine's peak — the reopening offers symbolic hope but limited jobs, as automation replaces the labor that once built an entire community around the mountain's blue-glinting walls.
In a town reduced to a fraction of its former self, South Korea is wagering on a blue-glinting metal to reclaim something it quietly surrendered over three decades: control over the raw materials its economy depends on. The Sangdong tungsten mine, 180 kilometers southeast of Seoul, closed in 1994 when Chinese supply made it unviable. Its reopening now is less about profit than about what officials call resource sovereignty.
Tungsten is embedded in the technologies that define modern life — cutting tools, microchips, electric vehicle batteries, military hardware. South Korea, home to Samsung and the world's highest per-capita tungsten consumption, imports 95% of its supply from China, which controls over 80% of global production. The lesson of dependence arrived sharply in late 2021, when Beijing restricted urea exports and South Korean filling stations descended into panic. The government's response was swift: a new economic security taskforce, a pledge to reduce reliance on what officials diplomatically called "a certain country," and Sangdong as its most visible symbol.
The $100 million project is expected to supply 10% of global tungsten when operational, with half reserved for South Korea's domestic market. A 15-year contract with a Pennsylvania supplier serving the U.S. military is already signed. Prices have risen more than 25% in a year, lending the project commercial logic alongside its strategic rationale. But the road is uncertain — China is expanding its own mineral exploration, and developed nations have a poor record of sustaining supply-chain commitments.
Sangdong's human story complicates the optimism. Once a town of 30,000 during the 1960s boom — when tungsten represented 70% of South Korea's export earnings — it now holds just 1,000 residents. A 75-year-old man who spent his working life panning tungsten from the local stream doubts the revival will restore what was lost. "The mine doesn't need as many people as before," he said, "because everything is done by machines." The government has pledged to subsidize tunneling costs and consider environmental support, but no one is promising the town its former life back.
The wider picture is a global scramble. The U.S., EU, Japan, Canada, and Australia have all launched critical mineral strategies, but the $200 billion in new mining and smelting capacity needed by 2030 remains ten times what is currently committed. Environmental opposition has already shuttered projects in Serbia and Minnesota. The path away from dependence on China, it turns out, is neither straight nor short.
In a town that has shrunk to a tenth of its former size, South Korea is betting on a metal that glints blue from abandoned mine walls. The Sangdong tungsten mine, 180 kilometers southeast of Seoul, closed in 1994 when Chinese supply made it uneconomical. Now, after three decades of silence, it is being brought back to life—not for profit alone, but for what officials call sovereignty over natural resources. The mine's reopening is a window into a much larger struggle: how countries dependent on China for the raw materials of modern life are trying to build alternatives.
Tungsten is everywhere in the technologies that define our moment. It hardens the cutting edges of tools, strengthens the filaments in lightbulbs, and is essential to the chips in phones, the batteries in electric vehicles, and even the tips of military artillery. South Korea, home to Samsung and other major chipmakers, consumes more tungsten per capita than any other nation on earth. Yet it imports 95 percent of what it needs from China, which controls more than 80 percent of global supplies. When Lee Dong-seob, vice president of Almonty Korea Tungsten Corp., the mine's operator, was asked why reopen now, his answer was blunt: "Resources have become weapons and strategic assets."
He is not alone in thinking this way. Over the past four years, at least 30 critical mineral mines or processing plants have been launched or reopened outside China—lithium projects in Australia, rare earth operations in the United States, tungsten mines in Britain. The International Energy Agency projects that global demand for critical minerals will quadruple by 2040, and demand for minerals used in electric vehicles and battery storage will grow thirty-fold. China is the largest supplier of 13 of the 35 minerals the United States classifies as critical, and controls supply of 21 key minerals for the European Union. The disparity is so stark that one industry analyst described it as China sitting down to dessert while the rest of the world reads the menu from a taxi.
South Korea learned this lesson painfully in November 2021, when Beijing tightened exports of urea solution, a chemical required by law in diesel vehicles to reduce emissions. Nearly 97 percent of South Korea's supply came from China. Shortages triggered panic-buying at filling stations across the country. The government responded by creating an Economic Security Key Items Taskforce and, under incoming President Yoon Seok-yeol, pledging to reduce dependence on what officials carefully called "a certain country." The Sangdong mine became a tangible expression of that pledge.
The project carries a $100 million price tag. When operational next year, it is expected to produce 10 percent of global tungsten supply, with roughly half reserved for South Korea's domestic market. The company has already signed a 15-year deal to sell processed tungsten to a Pennsylvania-based supplier that serves the U.S. military. Prices have moved in the mine's favor—tungsten costs have risen more than 25 percent in the past year, driven by the digital and green energy booms. Yet success is far from assured. China itself is stepping up exploration of strategic minerals, and developed countries have a mixed record of following through on supply-chain diversification commitments.
Sangdong itself tells a story of industrial decline and uncertain revival. Once a bustling town of 30,000 residents during the mine's heyday in the 1960s, when tungsten accounted for 70 percent of South Korea's export earnings, it is now home to just 1,000 people. Kim Kwang-gil, 75, spent decades panning tungsten from a stream that flowed down from the mine. He is skeptical about what the reopening will bring. "The mine doesn't need as many people as before, because everything is done by machines," he said. The government agency responsible for resource security has committed to subsidizing 37 percent of the tunneling costs and will consider further support for environmental mitigation, but there are no guarantees that the mine will reverse the town's long decline.
The broader picture is one of countries scrambling to secure supplies they once took for granted. The United States, European Union, and Japan have all launched or updated critical mineral strategies in the past two years. South Korea has signed collaboration deals with Australia and Indonesia on mineral supply chains. Canada and the European Union formed a strategic partnership on raw materials. Yet the scale of the challenge is immense. Investment of $200 billion in additional mining and smelting capacity is needed by 2030 to meet demand—ten times what is currently committed. Environmental resistance has already killed some projects: Serbia revoked Rio Tinto's lithium exploration license in January, and the Biden administration cancelled two copper and nickel leases in Minnesota. As countries race to diversify their sources, they are discovering that the path away from dependence on China is neither quick nor certain.
Notable Quotes
Resources have become weapons and strategic assets.— Lee Dong-seob, vice president of Almonty Korea Tungsten Corp.
The mine doesn't need as many people as before, because everything is done by machines.— Kim Kwang-gil, 75-year-old Sangdong resident
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does tungsten matter so much that a country would spend $100 million to reopen a mine that's been closed for 30 years?
Because it's in everything—your phone, your car battery, military weapons. And China has 80 percent of the global supply. That's not just an economic problem. It's a security problem.
But couldn't South Korea just keep buying from China? They're the largest trading partner anyway.
They could, and they did for decades. But then in November 2021, China tightened exports of urea solution—a chemical South Korean diesel vehicles need by law. Shortages hit within days. That's when people realized how vulnerable they were.
So this mine is about never being caught like that again.
Exactly. It's about what they call "sovereignty over natural resources." Having a backup plan when your largest supplier can turn the tap off.
Will it work? Can South Korea actually compete with China on price and scale?
That's the real question. The mine will produce 10 percent of global supply, which is significant. But China is also ramping up its own exploration. And there's no guarantee countries will stick with diversified suppliers if Chinese tungsten is cheaper.
What about the town itself—Sangdong? Does the mine coming back help the people who live there?
That's complicated. The town had 30,000 people when the mine was booming. Now it has 1,000. The new mine uses automation, so it won't create the jobs the old one did. One man who spent his life panning tungsten from the stream said he doubts it will change much.
So it's a strategic win for the country but maybe not for the community.
That's the tension. The mine solves a national security problem. But for a dying town, it might just be a symbol of what was lost.