A growing concern today is that the acceleration of the so-called ‘twin transition’ — green and digital — is dramatically increasing global demand for critical minerals (CMs). In response to this increasingly recognised challenge, several research agendas have emerged.

A central question is how resource-rich but economically disadvantaged countries might benefit from this demand without falling into a new ‘green resource curse’. At the same time, there is mounting evidence that the extraction of CMs is deepening environmental degradation and social injustices, and is increasingly associated with conflict in mining regions. In response, some scholars and advocates call for reducing the material intensity of digital and low-carbon technologies to curb mining-related harm, while others focus on how mining practices themselves might be reformed to become more socially, environmentally, and economically sustainable. Finally, concerns are mounting that the intensifying global race to secure access to these minerals is raising new geopolitical tensions between states.
Impact of military mobilisation
By contrast, much less attention has been paid to the growing demand for critical minerals driven by a second major transition: the rapid acceleration of military mobilisation — what UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer has described as achieving ‘war-fighting readiness’ — which also relies heavily on digital infrastructures and the minerals that support them. As Vivoda et al recently note, “while much of the existing literature on [Critical Minerals] centers around their role in the energy transition, and despite their critical importance to national security, the focus on defense CMs remains underexplored”. This point is also made by Girardi et al, who have argued that “…the energy transition and digitalization have brought critical raw materials (CRM) to the forefront of international politics. However, little is said about the fundamental role that CRM play in the defence sector and the possible impact of CRM supply chain disruptions on the military domain”.
Only recently has wider media coverage begun to highlight how military mobilisation and conflict drive the extraction of critical minerals — a view that contrasts with seeing military mobilisation merely as a consequence of the race to secure these minerals for digital and green transitions. For example, writing for Global Witness, Cat Rainsford points out that United States President Trump’s eagerness to secure critical minerals in Ukraine and elsewhere is a decision that – given Trump’s well-known disdain for climate change and sustainability agendas – makes little sense in terms of low carbon transitions. In her view, rather, it is the importance of minerals such as gallium and titanium for military applications that seems to be increasingly driving efforts to secure access, suggesting the emergence of a ‘military-minerals complex’.
Media coverage in Europe, too, is increasingly highlighting how critical mineral strategies are being framed in terms of security and defence. The European Commission has proposed establishing strategic reserves of rare earths explicitly in response to security concerns and has signed strategic raw materials partnerships with Canada, Namibia, Kazakhstan, Ukraine, Chile and the Mercosur. EU Commissioner Stéphane Séjourné has argued that these efforts are essential for “competitiveness in the energy transition as well as defence and aerospace,” pointing to China’s export restrictions as a threat to vital supply chains.
This prompts important questions: why are certain minerals designated as ‘critical’ in the first place? To what extent are these designations shaped by military priorities rather than civilian or sustainability-related concerns? And what are the broader implications of this growing defence-related demand for critical minerals?
Lessons from history
The military drivers of critical minerals should come as no surprise. Throughout history, military needs have played a major role in shaping extractive activities and in defining what counts as a ‘critical’ resource. From coal during the Napoleonic Wars, oil in the First World War and later conflicts, and the mining of uranium for nuclear weapons after World War II — the imprint of military priorities is clearly visible in the historical directionalities of resource extraction and use. This influence was especially pronounced given the ‘dual-use’ nature of many technologies, where the boundaries between military and civilian sectors became increasingly blurred with the rise of powerful civil-military industrial complexes.
Read our report on critical minerals and conflict
History thus suggests that even if the overall military demand for coal, oil, or uranium was relatively limited compared with the demand by other sectors — the strategic prioritisation of these resources for weaponry and warfare played a decisive role in shaping the paths that were taken. In this light, Rainsford’s observation resonates strongly: “the defence industry is not the main source of US demand for rare earths but it is key in arguments about their criticality.”
It also highlights why we cannot afford to ignore the military dimensions of today’s mineral rush, shaped around two pressing questions:
- How is strategic military demand shaping, and how might it continue to shape, emerging extraction patterns beyond the well-recognised drivers of low-carbon and digital transitions?
- What does this mean for sustainability and development research, which has largely focused on greening supply chains and mitigating local harms under the assumption that green and digital transitions are the principal forces behind rising mineral demand?
If we acknowledge the significance of a military–digital twin transition, the terrain of debate shifts considerably. This reframing prompts a host of more specific questions.
Impact on low-carbon energy sectors and development
For scholars and practitioners of sustainability transitions: how might accelerating military mobilisation — now a major driver of “market tightness” — affect the prospects of low-carbon energy sectors? Could militaries come to compete directly with renewables for scarce inputs, undermining efforts to align mining with sustainability standards?
In financial, as well as economic, social & governance (ESG) arenas, how will a ‘new era’ of investment into defence stock reshape the governance frameworks designed to promote responsible mining?
For those concerned with development: how could intensifying military imperatives redirect the trajectories of resource-rich countries, many of which see mineral extraction as central to their development strategies? What implications might this have for trade agreements and global governance arrangements around mineral supply chains, and how might it constrain the policy autonomy of producing countries?
For debates around justice, participation, and local ownership: how might a growing military stake in mineral supply chains alter the very narratives and possibilities of community involvement and democratisation at extraction sites?
If military mobilisation and conflict are recognised not merely as outcomes of critical mineral politics but as key forces driving them, then struggles over critical minerals demand a deeper interrogation of the military logics and complexes that propel today’s scramble. This opens up vital new lines of inquiry for anyone concerned with how transitions in energy, technology, and security intersect with questions of development and justice.