By Staff Reporter
A critique of Zimbabwe’s timid attempt at resource nationalism- a right policy, taken too late, risking squandering an opportunity to leverage on global demand for lithium.
The trucks haven’t stopped. Each day, an estimated 3,000 tonnes of lithium concentrate roll out of Zimbabwe’s mines, destined for refineries in China and South Africa. In the dusty mining belts of Goromonzi, Buhera, and Bikita, local communities watch as their hills are hollowed out, water tables drop, and roads crack under the weight of extraction. In return, they get few jobs, little compensation, and even less say.
In June 2025, Zimbabwe’s Minister of Mines and Minerals Development, Winston Chitando, announced that exports of lithium concentrate would be banned beginning January 2027. It was presented as a decisive turn toward beneficiation, the long-promised vision of transforming the country from a raw resource exporter into a value-adding economy.
The problem is timing. “By 2027, the party may be over,” says Farai Maguwu, executive director at the Centre for Natural Resource Governance (CNRG). “The best of Zimbabwe’s lithium could be gone, we could be importing the same lithium from China.”
A policy adrift
The African Mining Vision (AMV), a 2009 pan-African blueprint, set a clear direction for African states to leverage their abundant mineral endowment for broad-based economic development. “Africa’s natural resources should be used to catalyse broad-based growth and development,” it states. That means moving beyond “exploiting finite resources for export with minimal local processing,” towards “downstream value addition and beneficiation.”
Yet, in Zimbabwe, as in much of Africa, policy execution rarely matches the rhetoric.
Zimbabwe’s original 2022 ban on raw lithium ore exports was widely praised. But when global lithium prices plunged by over 70% in 2023, Harare quietly reversed course, citing the need to keep mines afloat. Foreign mining houses—particularly Chinese-owned firms like Bikita Minerals and Prospect Lithium Zimbabwe—resumed exports with vigour.
Now, with prices stabilising, the government is reintroducing the ban—but not until 2027, giving miners a three-year window to extract and export as much as they can. Critics call it a “regulatory holiday for looters.”
Too little, too late
The consequences could be immense. At current rates, Zimbabwe will export 1.62 million tonnes of concentrate before the ban takes effect. “It’s a textbook case of failed resource nationalism,” says Maguwu. “You announce the right policy, but you implement it with a delay that renders it ineffective.”
That delay carries multiple costs. First, resource depletion: Lithium is a finite asset, and high-grade ore is being front-loaded into export markets. Second, missed industrial opportunities: battery-grade lithium hydroxide fetches up to ten times more than concentrate. Third, the erosion of policy credibility: International investors, already wary of Zimbabwe’s volatile regulatory landscape, may see this as another sign of institutional fragility.
But perhaps most troubling is the social cost. The Africa Green Minerals Strategy (AGMS), adopted by the African Union in 2023, urges countries to ensure that critical mineral extraction is “aligned with the socio-economic priorities of the host state, including the protection of community rights and environmental sustainability.”
That ideal is far from reality in Zimbabwe. Villagers near mines report displacement, contaminated water sources, and little to no consultation. “We have lost our dignity in the eyes of government all because of investors that come to mine minerals in our backyards,” one Bikita resident lamented to CNRG.
Models to learn from
Zimbabwe’s dithering stands in sharp contrast to other resource-rich nations. Indonesia, for instance, enforced a full ban on nickel ore exports in 2020, despite fierce opposition from global interests. It paired the ban with fast-tracked licenses, incentives for domestic refining, and strong state backing. As a result, this has spurred over $30 billion in battery investment within three years, and a seat at the global table for electric vehicle supply chains.
Even Australia, which continues to export lithium concentrates, has pushed aggressively to climb the value chain, leveraging partnerships under the Minerals Security Partnership with the United States and the EU. It’s Kwinana and Kemerton lithium hydroxide refineries now serve as case studies in how state support, even without export bans, can anchor a domestic industrial base.
Another lesson is from Botswana’s bold decision to ban the export of raw diamonds and mandate local processing, which signals a continental shift toward assertive resource governance—one Zimbabwe would do well to emulate in the lithium sector. President Duma Boko’s candid admission that “this country shouldn’t be in debt” marks a rare moment of political accountability and industrial vision.
By insisting that diamonds be cut and polished locally, Botswana is reclaiming value, creating jobs, and stabilizing export earnings, goals echoed in Zimbabwe’s delayed lithium beneficiation strategy but not yet realized. The contrast is stark: while Botswana acts decisively to retain wealth and industrialise, Zimbabwe’s policy hesitation risks entrenching extractivism and forfeiting billions in value.
Zimbabwe lacks Indonesia’s resolve, Australia’s coordination, and Botswana’s assertiveness. “We are sitting on a big opportunity, but if we are not careful, just like we have done with diamonds, very soon lithium will be a missed opportunity for the country,” says Maguwu.
The Africa Green Minerals Strategy is unequivocal in its guidance: “African states must move beyond the raw material supplier model… Beneficiation is not optional; it is strategic.” For Zimbabwe to align with this vision, the government must accelerate the ban, provide clear roadmaps for investors, and penalise firms that fail to build local processing facilities. That includes offering infrastructure incentives—such as electricity, roads, and water—and investing in local technical skills to ensure the domestic industry can absorb and manage high-value processing.
And perhaps most importantly, it must center community rights in its mineral governance frameworks. As the AGMS notes, “No mineral is critical if it undermines social justice or environmental integrity.”
A moment that will not return
Zimbabwe is not the only country facing this dilemma. Across Africa, governments are waking up to the power and pitfalls of their mineral endowments. But lithium is not just another resource. It is the metal of the 21st century, central to the transition away from fossil fuels and toward renewable energy. In this new economy, nations that control processing—not just extraction—will shape global supply chains, set standards, and wield geopolitical influence.
By 2027, Zimbabwe could be on its way to that future. Or it could have spent its mineral inheritance, with little to show but pits in the ground and broken promises. “This is a once-in-a-generation opportunity, 2027 is too late,” Maguwu warns.