Around the impoverished villages near Lake Kivu in the eastern part of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), you can still see evidence of the boom. Makeshift mines dot the countryside there, constant reminders of a once desperate search for a metallic ore called coltan.
None of the coltan stayed in the country of course. It was funneled out onto the global market, where it is a key component in the production of computers, cell phones, video game consoles and a host of other electronics.
All around the world, from offices in Tokyo to basements in Toronto, Congolese coltan can be found in the devices we use every day. Few know it’s there, even fewer know where it comes from.
But back in the DRC, coltan is murder.
From 1998 to 2003, half a dozen African countries and more than 25 rebel groups fought bitterly for control of the country’s coltan mines. Known as Africa’s World War, the battle killed more than five million people.
Villagers were kidnapped at gunpoint and forced to dig. Children were enslaved and women were raped by the thousands, all in the pursuit of coltan.
Armies and rebels lucky enough to find some were greeted with open arms by Western companies looking to profit from the worldwide electronics industry.
There was, after all, money to be made. As the world eagerly awaited the 2000 release of Sony’s Playstation 2, for example, the price of coltan spiked from $44 a pound to $275 a pound.
Those numbers suited the warring factions just fine because it meant more money for weapons and more incentive to control the mines. In 1999 alone, the Rwandan army—a central figure in the DRC’s war—made a staggering $250 million from coltan.
Playstation 2, meanwhile, went on to become the world’s best-selling game console.
At the height of war, the United Nations released a damning report linking our coltan consumption to the DRC’s plight. It detailed how armies and rebels fought and killed to supply our demand.
The report went even further, naming specific American and European mining companies that were either complacent in the killings or directly guilty of partnering with the rebels.
Nothing ever came of the allegations though, as alleged diplomatic pressure forced the UN to bury the report. Greed, it seemed, was excusable as long as it was profitable. The story of coltan was forgotten.
If this all sounds familiar, that’s because it is. Coltan is just one in a long list of natural resources pillaged from developing countries for our own consumption. Western demand for diamonds, gold and oil have all left a trail of despair in their path.
Little seems to have changed since the days of Africa’s World War—including our indifference to the plight of those who supply our goods.
In the DRC, some 45,000 people still die every single month from hunger and disease. The price of coltan may have dropped to pre-war levels, but people there are still suffering.
What’s worse is that it’s only a matter of time until the Congolese feel the wrath of our greed once again. When the next big technological innovation hits—perhaps a new iPhone or Nintendo Wii— and our coltan supply dwindles, the West will once again look to Africa, where most of the world’s coltan remains.
At the end of the Congolese war, just 15 per cent at the global population had a cell phone subscription. Today that number tops 60 per cent. Massive markets are opening up in China and India, where millions more people are buying record numbers of electronic goods.
For those still reeling from the first coltan boom, this is a ticking time bomb.
No one would ever suggest that we boycott electronic goods, nor is it fair to blame the average consumer for Africa’s plight. But without a strict regulatory system similar to the one that now targets blood diamonds, coltan will once again make war and death profitable.
Beyond that, we need a shift in focus away from the shameful pursuit of profit that drove our companies to partner with bloodthirsty rebels. If the recent global recession taught us the economic consequences of greed, then coltan and the DRC should teach us the consequences on human life.
Perhaps then, mass murder in Africa would spark the kind of outrage that faulty mortgages seemed to.
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