World Development 173 (2024) 106404

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World Development
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Mining and violence in Latin America: The state’s coercive responses to

anti-mining resistance
Moises Arce a, Camilo Nieto-Matiz b, *
a
Department of Political Science, Tulane University, United States
b
Department of Political Science, University of Texas at San Antonio, United States

A R T I C L E I N F O A B S T R A C T

Keywords: The expansion of mining and conflict violence are closely related phenomena, but there is widespread variation
Mining in the coercive responses state actors embrace to subdue resistance to mining. To explain this variation, we
Violence emphasize the interplay of motives (incentives) and opportunities (enabling conditions) available to state actors.
Conflict
Contrasting previous approaches, we provide a cross national analysis on the determinants of coercive responses
Latin America
for all Latin American countries. Our analysis also considers various forms of violent and non-violent coercive
responses by the state. Our results support a motive-based explanation: state actors adopt coercive responses
when the mobilizing capacity of communities as shown by indigenous involvement is the strongest, and when the
economic potential of mining properties as indicated by their lootability is the highest. Our findings have im­
plications for the expansion of extractive activities beyond mining.

1. Introduction for several Latin American countries. It is no surprise that government

The economic history of resource-rich countries in the Global South
is essentially a history of resource extraction. It is also a history marked
by conflicts and violence. To meet the growing global demand for
minerals and new energy sources (e.g., cobalt, lithium), industry actors
seek to expand the areas of extraction, but host communities mobilize to
contest the unequal distribution of social and environmental costs
(Martinez-Alier & O’Connor, 1996; Bebbington and Bury, 2013; Arce,
2014; Svampa, 2019). Conflict itself is not a bad phenomenon. When it is
constructive, negotiations – among government actors, industry actors
and host communities – can lead to better social and environmental
outcomes. But sometimes conflicts escalate to a more difficult and un­
fortunate dimension, and those contesting the social and environmental
costs of extraction face threats and intimidation, the criminalization of
dissent (i.e., imprisonment, restriction of rights), and even physical
violence (i.e., beatings, killings). Nowhere is there more violence than in
conflicts over mining as these types of conflicts are the most common of
all resource conflicts (Scheidel et al., 2020), and Latin America is no
stranger to them.1
Large-scale mining is one of the most important economic activities
actors representing different political orientations view mining as a
viable development policy for alleviating poverty and stimulating eco­
nomic growth. Arsel et al. (2016, 880) speak of the “extractive imper­
ative” because resource extraction “needs to continue and expand …
with the state playing a leading role and capturing a large share of the
ensuing revenues.” In “the race for what’s left” of the world’s com­
modities, as Michael Klare (2012) phrased it, the “extractive imperative”
has put at risk the environment and the community livelihoods that
directly depend on it. In response, host communities have mobilized
against the expansion of mining, either by demanding adequate benefit-
sharing, protesting its environmental harms, or denouncing massive
land grabs by industry and government actors (Sändig, 2021).
This paper examines the conditions under which anti-mining resis­
tance is subject to violent and non-violent coercive responses by the
state. One perspective suggests that violence and conflict are more likely
to take place where the state is weak and absent (Conde and Le Billon,
2017). In these areas, given the presence of enabling conditions, violent
actors appropriate mineral resources, industry actors capture public
officials, and states are unable to mitigate or manage conflicts between
host communities and extractive industries (Berman et al., 2017;

* Corresponding author.
E-mail addresses: marce@tulane.edu (M. Arce), camilo.nieto-matiz@utsa.edu (C. Nieto-Matiz).
1
Le Billon and Lujala (2020, 5) note that both Asia and Latin America have a high frequency of conflicts, but conflicts in Latin America are comparatively more
violent.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.worlddev.2023.106404
Accepted 16 September 2023
Available online 21 September 2023
0305-750X/© 2023 Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved.
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz
Knutsen et al., 2017). These areas provide limited checks on the use of
coercive responses by the state and other non-state actors, and host
communities often embrace mobilization as a dominant strategy given
the absence of adequate channels to voice their demands. A different
perspective focuses on mining encroachment and the relative value of
mineral resources at stake, both for the extractive industry and gov­
ernment, as well as for the various actors capable of extracting rents,
such as local entrepreneurs and organized crime. As industry actors
compete for access to the same minerals and energy discoveries, “the
race for what’s left” (Klare, 2012) has moved closer to ecologically and
socially vulnerable areas where resources are more difficult to extract
(Klare, 2012; Conde and Le Billon, 2017, 682; Owen et al., 2023). Some
of these areas are adjacent to urban settings, agricultural valleys, pro­
tected forests and glaciers, nearby populations are the most vulnerable
to potential environmental harms. In these areas, state actors will face
stronger incentives to embrace coercive responses to subdue community
resistance to mining.
We suggest that in their attempt to expand mining activities and to
raise the costs of collective action in the face of anti-mining resistance,
state actors engage in various coercive responses. Examples include
threats and intimidation to environmental defenders, the criminaliza­
tion of dissent, and physical violence against community leaders, such as
killings and beatings. To understand why some host communities in
some mining areas experience violent and non-violent coercive re­
sponses by the state, we suggest, it is important to account for the
interplay between motives and opportunities. Motives refer to the set of
incentives that state actors consider when deciding to engage in coercive
responses, while opportunity refers to the extent to which the state has
the enabling conditions to deploy such responses.
We provide a cross-national analysis on the determinants of violent
and non-violent coercive responses by the state in all Latin American
countries. While an abundant body of research examines the prevalence
of violence in the context of mining activities, most of these studies focus
on either a single case or examine one type of coercive response (e.g.,
Arellano-Yanguas, 2011; Doran, 2017; Idrobo et al., 2014). Some
quantitative studies, while focused on Latin America, only include a
handful of countries, thus leaving an important variation unexplained
(Navas et al., 2018).
We use a dataset of more than 1000 mining properties in Latin
America (Haslam and Tanimoune, 2016) and information on various
forms of coercive responses in mining areas (OCMAL, 2022). We find
support in favor of a motive-based story: states engage in coercive re­
sponses, not when state institutions are weaker, but rather when host
communities have a greater potential for mobilization and when the
economic potential of mining properties is higher. The involvement of
indigenous groups in mobilizations is an example of this greater po­
tential for collective action. As such, indigenous involvement is more
likely to be perceived as a threat to mining concessions, and states will
have stronger motives (incentives) to deploy violent and non-violent
coercive responses. Similarly, in mining locations with higher eco­
nomic potential increases, measured by the presence of lootable re­
sources, states will have stronger incentives to engage in coercive
responses against anti-mining resistance.
Our evidence also suggests that different types of coercive responses
– threats and intimidation, criminalization of dissent, and physical
violence – follow a very similar logic and that states resort to them
simultaneously. Finally, we suggest that the presence of indigenous
involvement has a more important effect on conflict violence in areas
where other types of livelihoods – higher levels of agriculture and water
resources – compete with mining activities.
We begin by contextualizing the relationship between mining and
conflict violence, and describing the coercive responses commonly
embraced by state actors to subdue community resistance to mining.
After presenting our theoretical arguments, we describe our empirical
strategy and main findings. We conclude by discussing the implications
of our results for other extractive activities beyond mining.
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World Development 173 (2024) 106404
2. Mining and coercive responses by the state
Conflict is not necessarily a “negative phenomenon” and can be an
important factor conducive to social change (UNEP, 2012, 6). Moreover,
the absence of conflicts is not the same as good resource governance
(Orta-Martínez et al., 2018). There may be unnoticed, “slow-moving”
environmental harms – such as water and land pollution – dispersed
across time and space that disproportionally affect the poor and
marginalized (Nixon, 2011). These threats remain silent and represent a
form of “structural violence” that not always lead to open conflicts
(Galtung, 1969). This paper focuses on forms of “direct violence” (Gal­
tung, 1969) as captured by documented or known challenges over
mining.
Conflict violence can erupt at different stages of the value chain (e.g.,
when the mining concession is first made, when mineral production
starts, when minerals are shipped to other areas), but as in most col­
lective action phenomena, it is difficult to predict the “flashpoint” when
conflicts escalate to violence. Likewise, the drivers of resistance can be
closer to the mining projects, the host communities near extraction,
industry and/or government actors (Conde and Le Billon, 2017). With
respect to mining projects, environmental harms (i.e., water contami­
nation) and the displacement of communities to make room for the
project are major drivers of resistance (Bebbington and Bury, 2013;
Svampa, 2019). Host communities move into struggle to demand better
participatory mechanisms over extractive decisions (Jaskoski, 2020) as
well as their share of the benefits of extraction (Arellano-Yanguas,
2011). They contest the territories that are directly and indirectly
affected by mining to make compensation more equitable (Gustafsson,
2016). Thinking about industry actors, the poor implementation or lack
of transparency of corporate social responsibility efforts incentivizes
conflicts (Haslam, 2021; Bezzola et al., 2022). And finally, turning to
government actors, the criminalization of protesters (Scheidel et al.,
2020) and the mismanagement of funds (i.e., corruption) represent two
major drivers of conflict (Knutsen et al., 2017).
Although they seem different, mining and conflict violence are two
sides of the same coin. Host communities resort to a wide-range of
protest performances, such as popular plebiscites, road blockades,
marches, and demonstrations to slow down the entry of mining corpo­
rations to their territories. But as the existing literature reminds us,
rejection of extractive projects often fails, and when this happens, pro­
test performances are deployed to re-negotiate the terms of extraction
(Anthias, 2022). For instance, host communities contest the presence or
absence of participatory mechanisms over resource governance (e.g.,
prior consultation, environmental impact assessment hearings). These
mechanisms were created to reduce the risk of confrontation and
improve resource governance, but more often than not, they ended up
galvanizing community resistance to mining (Jaskoski, 2020).
Inasmuch as host communities have learned to resist mining projects
in various ways, and protest performances diffuse to nearby conflict
areas (Aydin et al., 2017; Reeder et al., 2022), states have typically
reacted to social mobilization by increasing the costs of collective action
through the use of both violent and non-violent coercive responses. As
scholars of contentious politics have explained, governments facing
political dissent rely on coercion and repression to prevent and punish
social mobilization (Davenport, 1995; Ritter and Conrad, 2016). And the
expansion of mining is one of the sectors with the highest levels of
conflict violence (Scheidel et al., 2020; Menton and Le Billon, 2021).
We identify three broad types of coercive responses against anti-
mining resistance: (1) physical violence, including killings, beatings,
and torture of environmental defenders and community members; (2)
non-physical violence, such as threats, intimidation, and blackmailing;
(3) criminalization of dissent, which includes the use of the judicial
system to deter collective action, harass environmental defenders,
restrict their liberties, and stigmatize their actions.
State actors manage anti-mining resistance violently and environ­
mental defenders are physically eliminated as a consequence. In the Tía
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz
María conflict in the southern region of Arequipa, Peru, violent clashes
with the police led to eight deaths and hundreds of people injured. The
Tía María concession near the Tambo Valley agricultural area is viewed
as one of the longest and deadliest mining conflict in contemporary Peru
(Dunlap, 2019), but mineral production has yet to start. In the Las
Bambas project in the Apurímac region, also in Peru, five deaths and
dozens of people injured have been recorded since 2015, when mineral
production began. Lastly, assassinations of social leaders throughout
Colombia, including ethnic leaders and environmental advocates, one of
the highest in the region, have been used to deter social mobilization.
While much of the violence comes from identified state actors, states do
not always work alone. In countries with a weaker rule of law, gov­
ernments tolerate and even outsource the use of violence to militias and
criminal groups, evading responsibility for human rights violations and
maximizing the effectiveness of repression (Carey et al., 2015). In the
case of environmental projects, local resistance is typically met with a
combination of state security forces, criminal organizations, and private
security armies (Le Billon and Lujala, 2020).
Physical violence is an important response against social mobiliza­
tion, but not all conflicts escalate to violence, for many host commu­
nities manage to settle their differences with industry and state actors at
the negotiation table. Still, anti-mining resistance can also be subject to
threats, intimidation, and other non-physical manifestations of coercive
responses. Some threats are made publicly and in the context of face-to-
face interactions by known perpetrators, while others are delivered from
the underground through letters, phone calls, and messages. Just like
direct, physical violence, the intimidation of environmental defenders is
intended to slow down their mobilization and erode communities’
organizational capacity. In Colombia, for instance, after a meeting of
various coal mining multinationals and labor organizations, union
leader Igor Díaz received a pamphlet and text message with death
threats from the Black Eagles, a right-wing armed organization, known
for targeting social mobilization and dissent against corporate interests
(Censat, 2019). To counter anti-mining resistance in Ecuador, President
Rafael Correa branded environmental defenders as “infantile,” “ro­
mantics” and even “terrorists” (Billo and Zukowski, 2015).
State actors may also take advantage of their privileged position and
weaponize judicial and prosecutorial institutions to threaten, stigmatize,
and criminalize anti-mining resistance. For instance, legal frameworks,
such as penal law and anti-terrorist legislation, can be strategically used
by state actors to hamper social mobilization. Returning to Ecuador,
Pepe Acacho, a prominent indigenous leader, was unlawfully detained
by the authorities. Due to his role in public demonstrations against
mining activities and the privatization of water sources, Acacho was
accused of sabotage and terrorism (OLCA, 2011). As in Ecuador, state
actors in other countries criminalize routinized protest performances
like road blockades and marches by equating these actions with crimes
against the public order and safety. In these instances, the individual
freedoms of environmental defenders who call for and organize these
protest actions are at risk. Such an arbitrary use of law, with a decisively
political agenda, makes it easier for state actors to prosecute and arrest
environmental defenders for public intimidation, disorderly conduct,
obstruction of roads, and illegal association (Doran, 2017; Rasch, 2017).
One of the most emblematic cases of criminalization of dissent through
judicial means, documented by several NGOs, is the Rio Blanco/Majaz
mining concession in Peru, whereby British company, Rio Blanco
Cooper, acquired property rights over portions of land owned by peasant
communities without previous consultation. In order to deter the highly
organized anti-mining resistance that followed, state officials not only
resorted to violence and repression, but also opened judicial processes
without strong evidence, stigmatized their leaders in the media, and
associated them with terrorist groups (Licurgo and Quedena, 2015).
In sum, in their attempt to prevent and punish community resistance
to mining, state officials make use of a more complex repertoire of re­
sponses that goes beyond the use of state-sanctioned violence. Instead,
by strategically deploying violence – sometimes outsourcing its use or
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World Development 173 (2024) 106404
turning a blind eye to criminal actors – threatening, and using formal
institutions to criminalize collective action, state actors manage to
demobilize local communities, instill fear, and remove key actors from
the social networks of mobilization (Doran, 2017; Le Billon and Lujala,
2020; Siegel, 2011). Yet even within countries strongly permeated by
human right violations and state-criminal collusion, some mining loca­
tions exhibit higher levels of conflict and coercive responses against
collective action than others. What accounts for this variation?
3. Motives and opportunities
To explain why some host communities are subject to coercive re­
sponses by the state in the context of resource extraction, it is important
to account for the interplay of motives and opportunities.
Motives for coercive responses refer to the set of incentives and ad­
vantages that state actors consider when deciding to advance mining
projects throughout the territory. Everything else being equal, state
actors will be more eager to mobilize resources in favor of a particular
mining project or industry actor when the potential for wealth accu­
mulation and political survival is higher. In particular, the economic
potential of the mining location is an important factor determining the
use of coercion. Mineral resources, economists and political scientists
have indicated, tend to be more valued by political actors because,
relative to agricultural resources, they are easily taxable and provide an
important source of revenue (Blair, Christensen, and Rudkin, 2021). The
availability of mineral resources thus makes state coercion more likely.
Of course, mining projects exhibit enormous variation in their eco­
nomic potential: while some focus on less valuable minerals, others
promise more profitable commodities such as diamonds, lithium or al­
luvial gold deposits. Crucially, research in political economy has shown
that lootable resources pose a serious risk for violence and conflict.
Resources are more vulnerable to looting when they are more lucrative,
are easier to transport, and have low barriers to entry. These charac­
teristics make certain resources an attractive prize to be captured and a
better opportunity for wealth accumulation (Snyder, 2006). For
instance, in Madre de Dios, located in the eastern part of the Amazon
basin of Peru, the rapid expansion of alluvial gold mining became a
source of new individual wealth, causing widespread deforestation and
multiple conflicts between state and local actors (Damonte, 2018).
Therefore, highly coveted resources make coercive responses more
common.
In addition to the availability and type of resources, states and other
violent perpetrators assess host communities’ level of organization to
determine their use of coercive responses against them. Because higher
mobilizing capacity can potentially become a threat to the expansion of
mining, state actors have stronger motives (incentives) to target com­
munities with greater levels of organization and associational space.2
Indigenous and ethnic communities, in particular, are an important
political actor. They have the capacity to engage in collective action, as
well as organize in the face of political exclusion and repression. They
are also most at risk by the expansion of extractive activities (Butt et al.,
2019). Several arguments support this observation.
First, research has documented how indigenous groups reliance on
pre-existing social networks and norms of solidarity and reciprocity
facilitate collective action and minimize free-riding (Trejo, 2012; Van
Cott, 2007). Indigenous communities with histories of mobilization have
even managed to effectively resist narco rule in rural Mexico (Ley,
Mattiace, and Trejo, 2019). Indeed, social mobilization is not easy to
create or sustain, but appealing to ethnic grievances can boost collective
2
While social mobilization is enhanced by the availability of strong social
networks and framing processes, the social movements literature reminds us
that the larger political opportunity structure—elite divisions, electoral pro­
cesses, democratic openings—plays a consequential role (Middeldorp and Le
Billon 2019; McAdam 1982; Snow et al. 1986).
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz
action (Cederman, Weidmann, and Gledistsch, 2011; Wimmer, 2013). In
Latin America, indigenous movements with important political influ­
ence and mobilizational capacity have been those that have relied on
social networks, of their own and of other groups, to transcend their
localized interests (Van Cott, 2007; Yashar, 2005). Hence research
suggests that ethnic groups that hold some political relevance in the
national sphere, but are systematically discriminated against or
excluded from the political system, are more likely to engage in political
action. The exclusion of politically relevant ethnic groups constitutes an
important predictor of conflict (Cederman, Wimmer, and Min, 2010).
Second, many of them reside in strategic and resource-rich areas
where mining companies seek to establish their operations, forcing
indigenous groups to compete for access to land and water (Scheidel
et al., 2020; Le Billon and Lujala, 2020, 5). Third, indigenous groups
often depend on the environment for their livelihoods, and access to
these resources is critical for their survival. Consequently, indigenous
groups have played an outsized role in the defense of environment and
their territories, contesting the implementation of agro-industrial ac­
tivities, hydroelectric plants, and large-scale mining. The threats of
mining are material and nonmaterial. In fact, research has shown that
the arrival of mining sparks different emotions and subjectivities across
community members (González-Hidalgo and Zografos, 2020; Balderson,
2022).
Lastly, because of their political marginality and exclusion, indige­
nous groups struggle to achieve a voice with regard to the projects,
which affect their livelihoods. These factors – pre-existing social net­
works of mobilization, competition for access to land and water,
dependence on these resources for livelihoods, and political exclusion –
make indigenous mobilization against mining quite significant and
common (Butt et al., 2019). All said, because organized collective action
is seen as a threat to the expansion of these activities and projects, vi­
olent and non-violent coercive responses emerge as a solution to deter
grassroots mobilization against mining.
Even when a handful of Latin American countries have incorporated
indigenous rights into their constitutions, implementation gaps are
widespread and indigenous groups continue to suffer from significant
political and social exclusion. Participatory mechanisms over resource
governance such as prior consultation look good on paper, but their
impact on protecting indigenous territories is open to debate (Torres-
Wong, 2019). Le Billon and Middeldorp (2021, 72) note that “prior
consultation processes cannot be separated from the violence of
dispossession, repression, and pollution, including through their effects
on health, livelihoods, wellbeing, culture, and sense of belonging.”
Summarizing motives for coercive responses, we can formulate the
following two hypotheses:
H1. Mining locations with higher economic potential are more likely
to experience coercive responses.
H2. Mining locations with the involvement of indigenous groups are
more likely to experience coercive responses.
Motives are central, but opportunities for coercive responses must also
be present. Geography, as acknowledged by an extensive scholarship, is
an important opportunity for state action (Acemoglu et al., 2015; Koss
and Sato, 2016). According to one potential explanation, coercive re­
sponses against local communities are more likely to happen when they
are better connected to the state and its economic circuits. It is in those
areas where states are better equipped to broadcast their authority,
mobilize police forces, and repress anti-mining resistance. By the same
token, distant and peripheral regions are not only less valuable to gov­
ernment control, but also disconnected from the political and economic
networks of the state, and more costly to reach.
However, areas with greater integration to the central state and
urban areas may also increase the costs of coercive responses. It is in
those areas where there is an increased risk for social protest, but also
where state institutions of horizontal accountability are more robust, the
rule of law is more functional, and the media is more independent from
political power (Brinks et al., 2020; O’Donnell, 1993; Steinberg, 2018).
4
World Development 173 (2024) 106404
While areas with greater presence of state institutions may help state
actors deter social mobilization, they can also expose human rights vi­
olations and the extralegal use of institutions to criminalize it. This is not
to say, however, that state absence triggers coercive responses against
collective action, but rather that weak institutions provide an opportu­
nity for some state actors, operating alone or sometimes colluding with
violent and criminal organizations, to assassinate, intimidate, and
judicialize environmental defenders and their community members.
Therefore, we can hypothesize that:
H3. Mining locations with lower levels of state presence are more
likely to experience coercive responses.
Before moving to the empirical section, two observations are worth
mentioning. First, states are far from monolithic actors. States can lack
cohesiveness, selectively enforce institutions, and behave complicitly
towards violent actors (Auyero and Sobering, 2019; Duran-Martinez,
2015; Nieto-Matiz, 2022). When it comes to repressing social mobili­
zation and to evade accountability for human rights violations (Jentzsch
et al., 2015), some state officials may choose to outsource the use of
violence to non-state violent actors. In other cases, when local militias,
street gangs, or larger criminal organizations target social mobilization,
state agents can benefit from their presence and turn a blind eye to their
actions. In Guatemala, for instance, as mining holds important strategic
value to the country’s elite, violence has become an important tool for
exerting control over business networks, land, and political power. In a
complex relationship between mining corporations, the military, and
political elites, violence is used in response to anti-mining resistance
(Sveinsdóttir et al., 2021). In sum, while states are the main coercive
actor in the context of resistance to mining, coercive strategies against
host communities can also be deployed by non-state specialists of
violence, alone or in cooperation with state actors.
Second, while we make a distinction between motives (incentives)
and opportunities (enabling conditions), state coercive responses
oftentimes speak to the interaction of both dimensions: states assess the
costs and benefits of coercively responding to anti-mining resistance
contingent on both their capacity to peacefully solve conflicts and the
level of social mobilization. In areas with a weak institutional presence,
anti-mining resistance becomes a dominant strategy since host com­
munities lack adequate channels to voice their demands. Moreover, in
those same areas, opportunities for state coercion may be greater, since
there are weaker institutional checks on state abuse and the use of co­
ercive responses against social mobilization. Weak institutional pres­
ence is the worst of both worlds, so to speak, as it engenders both higher
likelihood of anti-mining resistance and state coercion. Conversely, in
areas where institutional presence is relatively stronger and social
mobilization against mining is weak, coercive responses will be less
likely. In these contexts, not only are states less pressed to depress
mobilization, but their institutions are also more capable of dealing with
social dissent. Court challenges (or judicialization) may be an alterna­
tive strategy available to host communities, independent of their
mobilizing capacity.
4. Understanding coercive responses in Latin America
4.1. Research design
We study why states engage in violent and non-violent coercive re­
sponses against community resistance to mining projects. We assemble a
dataset of over 1,000 mining sites in 19 Latin American countries and
identify the cases where local communities have experience coercive
responses and otherwise. Our analysis spans between 2000 and 2020,
includes all countries in the continent, and covers a wide range of
commodities.
Our main unit of analysis is the mining location. We geo-code mining
sites and collect fine-grained information about each locality. Data for
most mining locations come Haslam and Tanimoune (2016), who
compile a dataset of mining properties based on information from
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz World Development 173 (2024) 106404

Infomine. While their important study focuses only on five countries with
the largest mining presence (i.e., Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Mexico, and
Peru), we extend the analysis to include the remaining 14 Latin Amer­
ican countries. Our resulting dataset consists of 1055 property sites at
different stages, ranging from exploration and feasibility to development
and production.
Because we have precise coordinates for each property, we can
calculate our key independent variables and other covariates with fine-
grained data found at the grid-cell level. Covariates are calculated in the
following way: for each mining location, we use the queen criterion to
determine neighbors, and estimate the average value of the nine grid-
cells (e.g., the property’s cell plus its eight neighboring cells) for any
given covariate. Using this first-order neighborhood ensures that we
account for the bordering locations outside the mine. As robustness
check, we also use covariates values coming from the very mine grid-
cell. To divide the continent into cells, we rely on the PRIO-GRID
dataset, which contains spatially disaggregated data at the grid cell
level with resolution of 0.5 × 0.5 decimal degrees.
We study the use of coercive responses against collective action in
mining locations by using a logistic regression estimation of the
following form:
yi = α + logit− 1 (Opportunityβ1 + Motiveβ2 ) + Xi + ε
In this model, yi is a dichotomous variable indicating the presence of
any coercive event (i.e., physical violence, non-physical threats and
intimidation, criminalization of dissent) in a mining location. Given the
outcome nature of our outcome variable, we choose logistic regression
as the most appropriate estimation. Opportunity refers to the extent to
which the state has the enabling conditions to deploy coercive re­
sponses, while Motive indicates whether there are enough incentives for
its use. We measure Opportunity in two different ways: nighttime lights
emission and travel distance from any given mining location to the
closest urban center. Motives, in turn, are measured with two dichoto­
mous variables: one first variable indicates whether a mine has poten­
tially lootable resources and a second variable takes a value of one if the
mining location has the involvement of indigenous groups in mobiliza­
tions. Here, β1 and β2 are our main coefficients of interest. Lastly, α is the
intercept term, Xi is a vector of covariates measured before 2000, and ε
represents the idiosyncratic error term. We estimate the equation with
clustered standard errors at the country level. As a robustness check, we
replicate this analysis using an OLS linear probability model and find
similar and consistent results (see Appendix).
society organization, OCMAL constructs its data set with reports from
mining communities and newspapers across the continent. OCMAL’s
data project, despite its limitations, provides an unparallel source of
information about conflict violence.
The project identifies 268 cases of coercive responses throughout the
continent. Concentrating around 70% of the cases, Peru, Mexico,
Guatemala, Ecuador, and Colombia are the five countries with the
highest number of instances. Fig. 1 plots all mining locations in Latin
America and marks in red those that experienced at least one coercive
response.
6. Dependent variables
Based on the events documented by the OCMAL data project, we
construct three types of coercive responses: physical violence (both le­
thal and non-lethal), non-physical threats and intimidation, and crimi­
nalization of dissent. On one side of the spectrum, state actors, along
with non-state violent actors, can exert physical violence against envi­
ronmental defenders and community members. This may include the use
of selective murders against visible community leaders and the assassi­
nation of citizens during protests and strikes. Intended to instill fear in
the broader community, physical violence can also take the form of
forced displacement, personal injuries, beatings, torture, and
kidnapping.
A second category, separately distinguished by OCMAL, refers to
threats, intimidation, and blackmailing against leaders and their com­
munities. While threats do not involve a physical action against citizens,
it victimizes them by causing psychological stress, creating fear, and
ultimately deterring collective action.
On the other side of the spectrum, absent of physical violence, states
can engage in the criminalization of dissent. Also coded by OCMAL,
criminalization refers to the use of the legal and administrative appa­
ratus of the state to harass and deter, typically without a legitimate
reason, the actions of individuals and communities. Criminalization also
includes the use of negative campaigns, misinformation, and stigmati­
zation of host communities and their resistance in the media, press, and

5. Data

Our focus of interest is the array of coercive responses by the state

against community resistance to mining, including the use of physical
violence, non-physical threats and intimidation, as well as the crimi­
nalization of dissent, alone and in cooperation with private actors and
corporations, favoring the expansion of mining projects. As such,
violence, threats, and criminalization entail a repertoire of actions
intended to deter environmental defenders, weaken social mobilization,
and raise the costs of resistance.
We obtain our data from the Observatory of Mining Conflicts in Latin
America (OCMAL, Observatorio de Conflictos Mineros de América
Latina in Spanish) which collects information on conflicts between
communities and mining projects as well as the presence of coercive
responses against community resistance to mining (OCMAL, 2022).
While OCMAL has been extensively used in quantitative studies of
mining conflicts (e.g., Haslam and Tanimoune, 2016; Haslam, Tani­
moune, and Razeq, 2019), one potential concern with this data project is
that it may not incorporate the entire universe of incidents. Due to the
very nature of these conflicts, which take place in remote areas prone to
under-reporting, the events included by OCMAL are known conflicts,
those with greater media coverage and political consequences. As a civil
Fig. 1. Mining locations and coercive responses in Latin America.

5
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz
other public platforms.
7. Independent variables
Starting with the state’s motives (incentives), and to account for the
economic potential of any given mining location, we include a measure
of whether those areas have lootable resources using the Global Re­
sources dataset (GDR) (Denly et al., 2022) While the ideal operation­
alization of economic potential would account for the value and volume
of resource deposits, detailed information on this variable for each
mining location is unavailable and, at best, imprecise. Instead, and
following an important literature on the political economy of conflict,
we use resource lootability, which captures the attractiveness of any
particular resource and its propensity for conflict (e.g., Robinson, Tor­
vik, and Verdier, 2006; Snyder, 2006). Lootable resources are precious
and valuable resources requiring little human capital or specialized
machinery for their extraction, and enjoying a high weight-to-price ratio
(Denly et al., 2022). Since they can be more easily captured and trans­
ported, they provide income for locals, state agents, and non-state vio­
lent actors, which ultimately increases the likelihood of conflict. For
instance, Lujala, Gledistsch, and Gilmore (2005) find that lootable di­
amonds are associated with the onset and incidence of civil conflict,
while nonlootable diamonds make conflicts less likely. The GRD clas­
sifies almost 200 minerals according to their potential for lootabili­
ty—whether they have high value and low barriers to entry. Because
different types of resources may be present at the same location, we code
a location to have lootable resources if at least one of its resources is
lootable.
The second, key, independent variable incentivizing state coercion
refers to the existence of an organized grassroots collective actor
potentially capable of mobilizing against mining projects. The involve­
ment of indigenous groups in mobilizations against mining, we argue, is
an example of this greater potential for collective action. To account for
this factor, we rely on GeoEPR, a geocoded dataset that documents
politically relevant excluded groups and their access to state power
(Vogt et al., 2015). For each grid-cell, the GeoEPR has a continuous
measure counting the number of ethnic groups, but we also use a
dichotomous variable indicating the presence of at least one ethnic
group. In selecting a variable that captures the potential threat posed by
indigenous mobilization to mining projects, GeoEPR is one of the best
options. First, the variable focuses on ethnic groups, which tend to be
excluded from political decision-making and constitute and important
predictor of conflict. Moreover, the GeoEPR dataset does not just include
the universe of ethnic groups, but only those with political relevance and
the highest levels of influence within a country. An ethnic group is
politically relevant if “at least one significant political actor claims to
represent its interest in the national political arena, or if its members are
systematically discriminated against in the domain of public politics”
(Wucherpfennig et al., 2011, 427). Lastly, GeoEPR provides highly dis­
aggregated information at the grid level.
Turning to opportunities (enabling conditions), we focus on the
extent to which mining locations are connected to the central state.
According to our expectations, mining locations with higher levels of
disconnection from the central state are more likely to face coercive
responses. We operationalize this using two different approaches. First,
we use the estimated travel time, by land transportation, to the nearest
major city with more than 50,000 inhabitants. Inaccessible and remote
regions are left out of the economic circuits, are less capable of enforcing
state institutions, and may receive lower levels of public goods. Data for
this variable come from Uchida and Nelson (2009). Second, we measure
the connection of a particular location to the central state by using
calibrated average nighttime light emission from the DMSP-OLS
6
World Development 173 (2024) 106404
Nighttime Lights Time Series Version 43 (Elvidge et al., 2014).
Because electrification projects require an important mobilization of
state resources, nighttime luminosity captures variations in economic
activity and the interest of governments to integrate particular localities
to the center and maximize electoral influence (Min, 2015; Henderson
et al., 2012).
We control for several covariates. To capture mining properties’
characteristics, we include a categorical variable for the type of
exploitation method—open-pit, open-pit/underground, surface, under­
ground, and others—from Haslam and Tanimoune (2016), who ob­
tained information about mining properties using the industry site
Infomine. From an industry perspective, and compared to underground
methods, open-pit mining has lower operation costs and the potential for
higher profits early on. However, open-pit mining is associated with
higher levels of conflict than other methods due to their severe envi­
ronmental harms (Bebbington et al., 2008). We draw on mining
exploitation types as proxies for the advantages and disadvantages of
different mining methods.
Prior armed conflicts affect state behavior, and the violence
emerging from these conflicts can be manifested in several ways. One
possibility may occur when armed actors’ lack of reliable information
about citizens’ preferences and behavior incentivizes these actors to
victimize civilians as a way to obtain information or punish defection
(Kalyvas, 2006). Another possibility is that resources, especially capital-
intensive ones, motivate civilians to join armed groups and dispute
territorial control (Dube and Vargas, 2013). In order to account for these
possibilities, we rely on UCDP’s Georeferenced Event Dataset (Sundberg
and Melander, 2013) and include a dichotomous variable that takes a
value of 1 if at least one armed conflict incident took place in a mining
location.
Additionally, we account for different aspects of land use and agro-
climatic conditions. We include a dichotomous variable, from the
DRUGDATA project (Buhaug and Lujala, 2005), indicating the presence
of large-scale drug cultivations, including coca, opium, or cannabis.
Lastly, from Beguería et al. (2014), we include a continuous variable
that captures the intensity of drought throughout the year in any given
cell. We include population density with data from Gridded Population
of the World data project (CIESIN and CIAT, 2005).
In the Appendix, we also control for two additional variables: first,
mountainous terrain using the UNEP’s Mountain Watch Report (Blyth
et al., 2002). The variable measures the proportion of mountainous
terrain based on elevation, slope, and local elevation range; and second,
infant mortality rate from the SEDAC Global Poverty Mapping project
(Storeygard et al., 2008), measured as the number of children per
100,000 live births that die before their first year of life.
8. Empirical results
8.1. Baseline results
We present our main results in Table 1. The first and second columns
explore the role of opportunities and motives, respectively, while the
model in the last column assesses both explanatory factors simulta­
neously. The main dependent variable is a dichotomous variable indi­
cating the presence of coercive responses in a mining location. Overall,
the results provide support in favor of a motive-based story: states
engage in coercive responses in mining locations with a greater potential
for collective action, as captured by indigenous involvement in mobili­
zations, and in mining properties with higher economic potential, as
measured by the presence of at least one lootable resource.
Results from Model 1 fail to show any evidence in favor of an
opportunities-based explanation. The positive coefficient of time to
3
Image and data processing by NOAA’s National Geophysical Data Center.
DMSP data collected by US Air Force Weather Agency.
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz World Development 173 (2024) 106404

Table 1 resources and when the mobilizing capacity of host communities as

Motives and opportunities: drivers of coercive responses. shown by indigenous involvement is comparatively high.
Dependent variable:
9. Violence and non-violent coercive responses
Presence of coercive event

Model 1 Model 2 Model 3 We disaggregate coercive responses intro three categories—crimin­

(Intercept) − 3.98*** − 5.37*** − 5.14*** alization of dissent, non-physical threats and intimidation, and physical
(0.67) (0.78) (0.81) violence—and report the results in Table 2. The evidence indicates that
Travel time 0.00 − 0.00
different types of coercive responses follow a very similar logic and that
(0.00) (0.00)
Nighttime lights − 3.19 − 2.27 states resort to them simultaneously.
(4.23) (4.18) The involvement of indigenous groups is positively associated with
Indigenous involvement 0.95*** 1.02*** greater levels of criminalization of dissent (column 1), threats (column
(0.24) (0.26) 2), and physical violence (column 3) in the context of resistance to
Lootable resource 0.78** 0.81**
(0.32) (0.33)
mining (Table 2) (p-value at 0.01 for all three). On the other hand, the
AIC 671.63 640.36 642.79 presence of lootable resources is a significant driver of criminalization
BIC 725.61 694.33 706.58 (column 1) and physical violence (column 3). This type of resource,
Log Likelihood − 324.81 − 309.18 − 308.39 however, yields no statistically significant effect on non-physical threats
Num. obs. 1000 999 999
(column 2) (Table 2). While indigenous involvement and lootable re­
N Clusters 19 19 19
Covariates Y Y Y sources refer to substantively distinct phenomena, both provide an
important motive for state officials to engage in different types of
***p < 0.001; **p < 0.05; *p < 0.1.
Note: Logistic regression results. Control variables, not shown, include popu­
lation density, drug cultivation presence, drought, armed conflict event, and
Table 2
mining exploitation type.
Disaggregating coercive responses.
Dependent variable:
closest city (Travel time) suggests that distant and remote areas experi­
ence more coercive responses, however, the effect is not statistically Criminalization Threats Physical violence

significant. The results also suggest that higher levels of nighttime lu­ (Intercept) − 6.47*** − 4.67*** − 5.17***
minosity (Nighttime lights), a proxy for integration to the state and eco­ (1.22) (0.83) (0.93)
Travel time − 0.00 − 0.00 − 0.00
nomic activity, are associated with fewer incidents of coercive
(0.00) (0.00) (0.00)
responses. However, once again, we fail to find a statistically significant Nighttime lights 3.11 − 6.32 − 2.70
relationship. (4.52) (4.64) (3.99)
In Model 2, we explore the effect of motives for coercive responses. Indigenous involvement 0.98*** 1.07*** 0.93***
We find that the involvement of indigenous groups in mobilizations (0.33) (0.38) (0.29)
Lootable resource 1.04** 0.58 0.72**
against mining and the presence of lootable resources increase the (0.43) (0.43) (0.36)
chances of state coercive responses. Model 3, which reports the effects of AIC 452.18 404.71 550.14
both motives and opportunities, yields similar results: the presence of BIC 515.96 468.50 613.93
indigenous groups and lootable resources increase the intensity of state Log Likelihood − 213.09 − 189.36 − 262.07
Num. obs. 999 999 999
coercion in mining locations even when accounting for a host of
N Clusters 19 19 19
competing explanations, such as the role of economic activity, integra­ Covariates Y Y Y
tion to the state, drugs and agro-climatic conditions, and mining
***p < 0.001; **p < 0.05; *p < 0.1.
exploitation type. For ease of interpretation, and based on model 3,
Note: Logistic regression results. Control variables, not shown, include popu­
Fig. 2 plots predicted probabilities of both variables. The figure suggests
lation density, drug cultivation presence, drought, armed conflict event, and
that coercive responses are more likely in the presence of lootable mining exploitation type.

Fig. 2. Predicted probabilities.

7
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz
coercive responses against resistance to mining. However, opportu­
nities, as measured by economic activity and distance to urban centers,
play no significant role in explaining any of the three outcomes.
For ease of interpretation, Fig. 3 plots the predicted probabilities of
indigenous involvement and lootable resources across the three cate­
gories of coercive responses—criminalization of dissent, non-physical
threats and intimidation, and physical violence. Motives (incentives)
as shown by indigenous involvement and lootable resources are central
to coercive responses by the state.
10. The type of mining location
Thus far, we have shown that motives are a key driver of coercion in
response to community resistance to mining. Since mining creates sub­
stantive environmental impacts, it is plausible to expect that these ef­
fects, and the subsequent reaction by local communities and the state,
vary depending on the characteristics of the mining location.
We begin by exploring whether the presence of indigenous groups is
associated with more intense conflict in agricultural areas relative to
areas where livelihood is not based on agriculture. Because mining sites
may cause harms to agricultural activities, its coexistence with extrac­
tive activities can lead to competition and conflict. We examine indig­
enous involvement in mobilizations, but estimate different models for
areas with levels below and above the median of agricultural activity.
We plot predicted probabilities with 95% confidence intervals. As we
show in Fig. 4 (plot a), agriculture-intensive areas are more prone to
conflict. Concretely, coercive responses are more likely to take place in
the presence of indigenous groups and in settings where agriculture is a
central part of economic activities. Thus, mining locations can turn into
a source of conflict in communities that depend on agricultural activities
Fig. 3. Predicted probabilities disaggregated by type of coercive response.
8
World Development 173 (2024) 106404
for their livelihoods.
Similarly, we investigate whether or not areas with larger bodies of
water experience higher levels of coercive responses. One plausible
expectation is that the presence of indigenous groups leads to higher
levels of coercive responses in areas where water is a scarce resource. We
explore this relationship by splitting the sample into areas below and
above the median of water resources and plotting predicted probabilities
of indigenous involvement. Fig. 4 (plot b) suggests that the probability
of the state’s coercive responses increases with the presence of indige­
nous groups, particularly in areas with abundant water resources.
Because mining requires large amounts of water, its usage by extractive
industries and the pollution of fresh water can create tensions between
communities and corporations.
Together, the findings in Fig. 4 are suggestive that in “the race for
what’s left” of the world’s commodities, the consequences of mining
encroachment over agricultural areas should not be underestimated.
Here mining not only competes with agriculture over land and water
access; mining also faces communities whose livelihoods are organically
structured over the centrality of agricultural activities. Agricultural or­
ganizations like irrigator boards and producer associations will be on the
front lines of opposition to mining, and often coalesce with nearby or­
ganizations in defense of existing livelihoods (Arce et al., 2022).
11. Conclusion
Our paper has examined the variation in coercive responses by the
state to community resistance against mining. Theoretically, we
emphasize the interplay of motives (incentives) and opportunities
(enabling conditions) available to state actors. Our empirical results
support a motive-based explanation: state actors embrace coercive
M. Arce and C. Nieto-Matiz
Fig. 4. Predicted probabilities – effect of indigenous involvement in different settings.
responses in the presence of lootabale resources and when the mobi­
lizing capacity of host communities as shown by indigenous involve­
ment is high. The results are very similar across different types of violent
and non-violent coercive responses, such as threats and intimidation,
criminalization of dissent, and physical violence. In line with mining
encroachment, areas that depend on agriculture and where water is an
abundant resource are also more likely to be susceptible to coercive
responses by the state.
A couple of lessons with implications for extractive activities can be
drawn from this study. First, while state actors have a range of coercive
responses at their disposal, not all extractive activities are the same. Our
motive-based explanation is likely to be applicable to other conflicts in
which the export sector has a foreign footprint, such as oil leases and the
quest for new energy discoveries to meet the challenges of climate
change (Kara, 2023). However, the economies in which the export sector
is locally controlled (e.g., agriculture and ranching) are likely to expe­
rience other forms of violence. In Argentina, for instance, large to
medium-sized soybean farmers are dedicated to export-oriented agri­
culture and agriculture has established partnerships with local actors.
Pesticide drifts and agrochemical runoffs are a growing concern, but
pesticide governance typically pits local actors who benefit from its use
against other local actors who are affected by its exposure (Lapegna,
2016, Leguizamón, 2020). Conflicts over “slow-moving” environmental
harms – dispersed across time and space – are likely to be more common,
but with slightly fewer intensive conflicts and violent coercive responses
than for mining activities (Prause & Le Billon, 2021).
Second, and finally, just as coercive responses by the state and
extractive activities vary, future research should pay closer attention to
the nature of conflicts themselves. We have argued that when conflicts
are constructive, negotiating parties can produce good social outcomes.
But in contexts that are highly polarized, when hostilities, non-
communication and physical aggression are already the norm, con­
flicts can take an affective turn (González-Hidalgo and Zografos, 2020).
Here parties are not really interested in finding common ground or
resolution to their differences. When conflicts are affective, they may be
putting the lives of community members, police officers and innocent
bystanders unnecessarily at risk. These conflicts should be identified and
avoided.
9
World Development 173 (2024) 106404
CRediT authorship contribution statement
Moises Arce: Conceptualization, Investigation, Writing – original
draft, Writing – review & editing. Camilo Nieto-Matiz: Conceptuali­
zation, Investigation, Methodology, Writing – original draft, Writing –
review & editing.
Declaration of Competing Interest
The authors declare that they have no known competing financial
interests or personal relationships that could have appeared to influence
the work reported in this paper.
Data availability
Data will be made available on request.
Acknowledgments
We are grateful to Paul Haslam and Nasser Ary Tanimoune for
providing us with access to their data. A previous version of this paper
was presented at the Center for Inter-American Policy and Research
(CIPR) at Tulane University. The authors are thankful for the invaluable
comments received during this presentation. The authors would also like
to thank the editor and the anonymous reviewers for their helpful rec­
ommendations and suggestions.
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