I was honored to participate in the Josef Korbel School of Global and Public Affairs, University of Denver workshop Navigating the Complexities of the Clean Energy Era.
As a documentary filmmaker with a series of pieces on critical mineral supply chains, I sincerely appreciated that my work was taken seriously in this academic community, and it was a pleasure to share what I had learned about critical minerals from a filmmaking perspective alongside what scholars had researched on the ground. In the sense that both approaches require boots on the ground and first-hand experience, it was a wonderful opportunity for me to share insights and ask questions with people who have grappled with the same challenges.
Throughout the conference, strong weight was placed on the complexity and apparent contradictions inherent in the so-called clean energy transition. In my film work, a kind of ethical paradox I frequently hit is how do you evaluate an energy system that may broadly benefit humanity, but requires very real, localized sacrifice on the ground?
The question comes up in different forms across contexts and continents, but it is essentially the same one. What if clean energy at scale comes at the cost of ten villages in the Atacama, for example? Who has the right to make that decision, and on what basis? My sense has always been that local community members are rarely at the table where these decisions are made, and this a deep-seated problem in the emerging global critical mineral supply chains.
Relatedly, one of the most consequential ethical concerns I see is the ability of manufacturers and/or entrepreneurs to hide behind the language of a green transition. The buzzwords can frame the topic as inherently positive in the public conception, which can obscure the non-green aspects of how these systems are actually built.
Another major ethical dilemma that I have encountered and that we discussed at the conference is the outsourcing of more environmentally intensive stages of production — for example, refining — to China. This has allowed China to take a commanding lead in critical mineral supply chains, a lead now broadly understood as a strategic vulnerability for the United States and Europe.
But China established that position in part because the West effectively offloaded polluting processes that it no longer wanted to do in its own backyard.
So, while we might enjoy the benefits of the science (for example, a beautiful new “green” electric car), the West pays less of the price for the environmental impact. This is also one reason the West struggles to break that dependence. Transatlantic partners may want to break free of China’s chokehold on refining, but Europeans will not approve a smelter in Bruges, and residents of the American capital are unlikely to approve one in Georgetown.
In fact, if refineries do come to the United States or Europe, they will almost certainly be built in poorer, perhaps rural regions that do not have the capacity to mount a strong public defense. This is a familiar cycle that injects environmental uncertainty into the most vulnerable communities.
Engaging with this workshop did not fundamentally change how I think about these issues, but it did sharpen certain elements. In particular, hearing similar dynamics described across different regions reinforced how structural these patterns are, and I appreciated the global diversity of the presenters. The formal panels were useful, but I found the unscripted exchanges — especially at the opening dinner — to be just as important. Those conversations made it clear that many people are grappling with the same tensions, even if they are approaching them from different disciplines or parts of the world.
One area where I did see productive engagement is in efforts to connect these questions to broader audiences. There is a lot of expertise in this space, but much of it does not reach the public in a way that is accessible or concrete. As a result, the tradeoffs implicit in the energy transition remain invisible to the people who are driving demand. Since the workshop, I have already had the opportunity to continue that engagement, including a screening and discussion of my film at the University of Denver and another facilitated by a conference attendee at the University of Lehigh. Also, stemming from this conference, I was invited to present my work at the EFI Foundation, which was very much appreciated. That kind of follow-up and network building is one of the most valuable outcomes of a convening like this.
At the conference itself, one key question we returned to throughout was how policymakers balance individual benefits with broader community needs. I have found that often the default approach is to rely on direct financial compensation — essentially payments made directly to communities in exchange for the disruption and extraction.
That has to be part of the equation, but on its own it is rarely sufficient. How much money is enough? I have seen cases where a poorer community is offered a sum that seems large to them, but is actually a minuscule amount compared to what is being mined. In other cases, I have seen significant cash payments made to communities with little oversight into how that money is spent, and whether it is being properly invested in infrastructure to prepare the community for the long term — especially a long term impacted by environmental degradation.
More durable approaches could involve a combination of compensation and investments — infrastructure, environmental remediation, health and education — paired with processes that give communities a meaningful role in shaping outcomes.
Overall, the workshop underscored the importance of treating the energy transition as a question of governance and political economy. The materials and technologies matter, but so do the systems that determine how their costs and benefits are distributed. For my own work, the takeaway is to continue focusing on making those dynamics visible in a way that does not flatten the complexity, but makes it understandable to a broader audience.