Beneath the waters of the Salton Sea in California lies a treasure worth half a trillion dollars: lithium, the essential metal for rechargeable batteries, electric cars, smartphones, and renewable energy grids.
As highlighted by the New York Times, which dedicates an in-depth report on the topic, Governor Gavin Newsom has called it “the Saudi Arabia of lithium,” and many see in this “white gold” the opportunity to bring jobs, tax revenues, and economic revival to one of the poorest areas in the United States.
But not everyone is cheering. The lake is already a full-blown environmental disaster: it is shrinking, spewing dust loaded with pesticides and toxins, and lithium extraction risks worsening the situation with massive freshwater consumption and new pollution. Amid lawsuits, residents’ skepticism, and unkept promises from the past, the so-called “Lithium Valley” has become a battleground between dreams of a green future and fears of contamination.
The hidden treasure and the race for white gold
In the heart of Southern California’s desert, beneath the Salton Sea, lies one of the largest lithium reserves in the world. Scientists have known about it for some time, but only with the explosion of electric cars, laptops, and renewable energies has the metal become valuable.
The United States produces lithium only from one active mine in Nevada and imports almost all of it from South America, Australia, and China: a dependence Washington considers a national security risk.
Here, three companies are trying to extract the metal from the hot, mineral-rich brine found deep in the lake. If they manage to move to commercial production, lithium could become the most important economic driver of the Imperial Valley in decades.
A RAND Corporation report speaks of a thousand jobs in construction and seven hundred permanent jobs in operations, with a multiplier effect creating another two thousand indirect jobs in commerce, construction, and services.
The already open environmental wounds of the Salton Sea
The Salton Sea is not an untouched paradise to be violated: it is already an ecological catastrophe. The lake is shrinking rapidly and, as the lakebed emerges, it raises clouds of dust loaded with pesticides, DDT, and arsenic.
Imperial County, with its 182,000 inhabitants, pays a very high price: communities closest to the lake report high rates of asthma and cardiovascular diseases compared to the rest of California. The air sometimes smells of dead fish carried by the lake’s wind.
Extracting lithium with “direct lithium extraction” (DLE) technology requires large amounts of freshwater – according to some critics, even double that of traditional mines – and this could accelerate the lake’s retreat, worsening the toxic dust. This is not an abstract fear: those who live here already know what it means to breathe that poison every day.
The voice of residents: skepticism and fatigue
Many residents of the Imperial Valley are not celebrating the arrival of lithium. Michael Luellen, mayor of Calipatria, a town of 6,500 known for its state prison, walks the dirt roads of his town showing abandoned buildings for over ten years and the absence of sidewalks that the municipality cannot afford.
The geothermal and solar industries of the 1980s and beyond had brought revival, but the historic center remains empty and the only supermarket has only recently reopened.
Jazmin Rodriguez, 24, has been waking up before dawn for six years to pick carrots, broccoli, and cabbage in the fields. Returning home with muddy shoes, she says: “We get sick, but there’s no other work. There’s nothing more here.”
The widespread feeling is that lithium profits will go elsewhere, while the dust and problems will remain here.
From the Colorado Desert to the forgotten Imperial Valley
Until the early twentieth century, this was just part of the vast Colorado Desert: temperatures over 109 degrees Fahrenheit, three inches of rain per year, dunes, and cacti.
A development company renamed it “Imperial Valley” to make it attractive and built a canal from the Colorado River. The soil, enriched by millennia of flooding, became fertile. With 300 days of sun a year, the area transformed into the United States’ main winter vegetable producer.
But the agricultural boom did not bring lasting prosperity. Today the infrastructure is dilapidated, well-paid jobs are scarce, and parents tell their children “sal si puedes” – leave if you can.
The county has fallen behind the rest of California, with bridges needing repair, outdated sewer systems, and an economy that revolves almost solely around seasonal agriculture.
The “Lithium Valley” and economic opportunities
Officially, the region is trying to rebrand itself: from Imperial Valley to Lithium Valley. Governor Newsom and local authorities hope that lithium will finally bring the money needed to fix roads, schools, and services.
In 2022, the California legislature approved a tax on every pound of lithium extracted: 80% of the revenue will remain in the county for local communities, 20% will go to the state for Salton Sea restoration. Ryan Kelley, county supervisor, is exasperated by delays: “We are not living the California dream. We need this money now.”
Companies promise the project will be a “clean energy hub,” but some observers, like Professor James J. A. Blair of Cal Poly Pomona, fear it is just a Trojan horse for other heavy industrial settlements: auto scrap yards, recycling, and even a nearly one million square foot data center already under discussion.
DLE technology between promises and doubts
Direct lithium extraction is presented as a cleaner solution compared to traditional hard rock mines: brine is pumped to the surface and lithium is extracted without digging huge craters. But it has not yet been tested on an industrial scale.
Opponents argue it consumes much more freshwater than claimed and that, in an already thirsty area, this could worsen the lake’s crisis. Environmental groups are not opposed to lithium itself – “we want it done right,” says Jared Naimark of Earthworks – but they demand that impacts be truly assessed.
In 2024, two nonprofit organizations sued the county over the approval of the environmental analysis of one of the companies, Controlled Thermal Resources. The judge dismissed the appeal, but the case is ongoing.
Companies’ responses and the desire for a “win”
Rod Colwell, CEO of Controlled Thermal Resources, expects to begin commercial extraction by 2028 and rejects criticism: “The judge said we complied with the law to the letter. The Valley needs a win, let’s move forward.”
He also highlights the safeguards provided by the state tax. Meanwhile, the county is drafting a plan to manage the lithium industry, but it also includes other activities that could bring new environmental burdens without creating proportionate jobs.
The debate is open: on one side, the hope of those who have seen too many dreams fade; on the other, the frustration of those who no longer want to wait while the rest of California races toward an electric future. The Salton Sea, with its retreating waters and toxic dust, remains there to remind us that every “white gold” has a price, and this time those who live there demand not to pay it all alone.
