Rio Tinto is not just another multinational mining company. It is the archetype of the destructive, exploitative, planet-wrecking behemoth. If you wanted to write a handbook on how a corporation can bleed nations dry, destroy communities, and still get invited to Davos to smile for the cameras, Rio Tinto is your model.
This is a company that has dressed itself up as a modern, socially responsible global actor, while leaving behind a trail of poisoned rivers, dead workers, and shattered societies. It is capitalism at its most naked, imperialism with a corporate logo, and a reminder that the language of “development” and “progress” usually means theft, exploitation and violence.
A Company Built on Empire
Rio Tinto’s origins are drenched in colonialism. Founded in 1873, when a group of British investors took over a copper mine in Spain’s Rio Tinto region, the company quickly became a symbol of Europe’s industrial appetite. Workers lived in slave-like conditions, exposed to toxic sulphur fumes, beaten down for the sake of British shareholders. By the end of the 19th century, Rio Tinto was not just a mining company but an imperial tool — a way to suck resources out of the Global South and funnel the profits into London’s banks.
This DNA has never changed. From Spain to South America, from Africa to the Pacific, the formula has been brutally simple. Secure the rights to a lucrative mineral deposit, usually by bribing or leaning on governments. Drive local communities off their land. Extract everything of value, no matter the environmental cost. Leave behind a wasteland when the profit margins decline.
The Mask of Respectability
Like many of its peers, Rio Tinto has spent millions to rebrand itself as a responsible actor. They talk endlessly about sustainability, community partnerships, and environmental standards. But scratch the surface and you see the same colonial attitudes alive and well. Their public relations machine is about creating distance between the boardroom in London and Melbourne and the destruction in Bougainville, Madagascar, Mongolia, or Australia’s Pilbara.
This is the classic playbook of what might as well be called Evil Corp. The words are progressive. The policies are violent. And the profits keep flowing.
Bougainville The Blood Price of Copper
Nothing sums up the sheer brutality of Rio Tinto better than Bougainville. In the late 1960s, the company, through its subsidiary Bougainville Copper Limited, opened the Panguna mine in Papua New Guinea’s autonomous Bougainville region. It was one of the largest open-cut copper mines in the world. On paper, it was supposed to modernise PNG’s economy. In reality, it was corporate imperialism at its ugliest.
Bougainvilleans were pushed off their ancestral lands. Their rivers were poisoned with tailings and heavy metals. Their agricultural base collapsed. The cultural heart of Bougainville was torn apart in service of feeding the global demand for copper and gold.
The mine generated huge wealth, but virtually none of it went to Bougainville itself. The profits flowed to Rio Tinto and the PNG government in Port Moresby. Locals saw their land destroyed while outsiders got rich. By the late 1980s, anger boiled over. Landowners, students and villagers rose up against the mine. Their rebellion spiralled into the Bougainville Civil War — one of the bloodiest conflicts in the Pacific since World War Two.
Rio Tinto likes to pretend it was a bystander. It was not. The company bankrolled the PNG state’s military operations. Helicopters and vehicles used by the PNG Defence Force were supplied by Bougainville Copper Limited. Villages were burned, thousands were killed, and an entire island was blockaded. People starved while Rio Tinto executives denied responsibility.
The war killed up to 20,000 Bougainvilleans. And it all began with Rio Tinto’s determination to squeeze copper out of the earth, no matter the human cost. Panguna is not just a mine. It is a graveyard.
Australia Digging into Sacred Land
If you want proof that Rio Tinto’s arrogance is not confined to distant islands, look at what it has done in Australia. In 2020, the company blew up Juukan Gorge, a 46,000-year-old sacred Aboriginal site in Western Australia. Archaeologists had described it as one of the most important sites in the country, containing priceless cultural heritage. None of that mattered. Rio Tinto wanted iron ore, so it pressed the detonator.
The backlash was global, forcing the resignation of senior executives. But the fact remains — this was no mistake. It was the logical outcome of a corporation that has always treated indigenous peoples as disposable. Apologies were made, committees were set up, promises were rolled out. But the gorge is gone forever, and Rio Tinto continues to dig.
Africa Blood, Sweat and Minerals
Rio Tinto’s record across Africa is a litany of labour exploitation, corruption, and environmental devastation. In Madagascar, the company’s QIT Madagascar Minerals project has been accused of polluting waterways, destroying local livelihoods, and fostering inequality. Communities report respiratory illnesses, declining crops, and zero benefit from the billions extracted.
In Guinea, Rio Tinto has been embroiled in scandals over its Simandou iron ore project. Billions of dollars in bribes were paid to secure mining rights, a clear-cut case of neo-colonial corruption. Local communities see none of the wealth. What they see is displacement, poverty, and a landscape scarred by extraction.
The pattern repeats from country to country. Rio Tinto operates as if Africa is still a colonial playground, where corporations can write the rules, grease the palms of elites, and strip the continent bare.
Mongolia and the New Frontier of Exploitation
In Mongolia, Rio Tinto’s Oyu Tolgoi copper and gold project has been hailed as a flagship example of modern mining. But once again, the people living on the land have paid the price. Nomadic herders have been driven off grazing land. Water sources have been drained and polluted. Independent auditors have accused Rio Tinto of secrecy, financial manipulation, and failing to respect local rights.
Mongolia’s government has repeatedly clashed with the company, accusing it of robbing the country of fair revenue. But the imbalance of power is clear. Rio Tinto has the money, the lawyers, the lobbyists. Mongolia has little choice but to bend.
Greenwashing as Strategy
Rio Tinto is not stupid. It knows its name is toxic. That is why it has invested heavily in greenwashing. The company now presents itself as essential to the global green transition. Copper for wind turbines. Lithium for batteries. Aluminium for solar panels. They frame themselves as saviours of the climate crisis, while conveniently ignoring the fact that their operations destroy ecosystems and wreck local communities.
This is the new language of exploitation. The same destructive practices, dressed up in the rhetoric of sustainability. Evil Corp 2.0.
Dodging Justice
One of the most remarkable aspects of Rio Tinto’s history is how rarely it has faced real accountability. Despite killings in Bougainville, despite destruction in Australia, despite corruption in Africa, the company continues to thrive. Politicians shake their hands. Banks finance their projects. Shareholders collect dividends.
Why? Because Rio Tinto embodies the power of multinational capital. Its wealth buys impunity. Its influence ensures governments look the other way. Courts are slow, settlements are small, and the victims are left without justice.
The Face of Corporate Imperialism
Rio Tinto is not an outlier. It is the system working as intended. The logic of profit demands sacrifice zones. Indigenous communities, workers, ecosystems — all are expendable. Rio Tinto just happens to be one of the clearest, most brazen examples. It has spent 150 years perfecting the art of extraction without accountability.
When people talk about the faceless nature of corporate power, Rio Tinto is the face. When activists describe capitalism as a system of organised theft, Rio Tinto is the evidence. When indigenous people warn that their survival is threatened by global markets, Rio Tinto is Exhibit A.
Beyond Reform
There is no reforming Rio Tinto. You cannot politely ask Evil Corp to be good. Its business model is built on destruction. It thrives on inequality, secrecy and violence. It cannot exist without sacrifice zones.
The real conversation is not about how to regulate Rio Tinto into responsibility, but how to dismantle its power. That means cancelling projects, holding executives criminally liable, and recognising that the wealth it claims is stolen wealth. It means listening to Bougainvilleans, Aboriginal elders, African farmers, Mongolian herders, and countless others who have resisted.
It also means confronting the global system that lets Rio Tinto operate. As long as governments prioritise foreign investment over human life, as long as profit is king, the Rio Tintos of the world will thrive.
Conclusion The Villain in Plain Sight
If James Bond needed a villain in the 21st century, Rio Tinto would be it. A corporation with limitless money, armies of lawyers, and no conscience. A company that poisons rivers, flattens mountains, and bankrolls wars. And yet, it is invited to sit on panels about sustainability.
Rio Tinto is the original Evil Corp not because it is uniquely bad, but because it shows us what the global economy is built on. When you strip away the greenwash and the PR, you see colonialism, violence, and theft dressed up as progress.
The Panguna mine is closed, Juukan Gorge is rubble, and Simandou is scarred, but Rio Tinto marches on. It is a reminder that the real villains are not hiding in shadows. They are trading on the stock exchange.