Melting Protections: Why Argentina’s Glacier Law Is Under Threat from the Copper Boom
- Guest Contributor
- Nov 12
- 9 min read
The country aims to become a major player in the global copper market, even as pressure mounts from the mining sector to amend the Glacier Law, raising concern over the environmental impacts in mountain regions.
By Ana Victoria Domínguez Britos
Presenting itself as a climate ally in the global energy transition, and under the pretext that existing legislation hinders the development of new copper mining projects, Argentina’s mining lobby is once again pushing to weaken the Glacier Law. For fifteen years, this law has sought to shield the country’s glaciers from destructive industrial activity such as mining. But how concerned should we be about this push when Andean provinces are already trespassing on the law?
Glaciers: where water is born
Snow accumulation in the Andes is the primary source of water feeding Argentina’s western rivers. Yet during dry years or periods of low snowfall, glacial melt becomes essential to sustaining their flow. A study led by Dr. Sebastián Crespo of the Argentine Institute for Snow, Glacier and Environmental Sciences (IANIGLA) found that during the 2013–2014 melt season, 51% of the upper Mendoza River’s flow originated from glaciers, a striking figure, given that the National Glacier Inventory has identified more than 16,000 glaciers across Argentina’s Andes.
Mining not only removes soil and destabilizes glaciers but also releases black carbon, a residue from the incomplete combustion of fossil fuels or biomass. These particles darken the ice, reducing its ability to reflect sunlight — a process known as albedo reduction — and thereby accelerating melting. To mitigate such impacts, Argentina enacted the Glacier Law (Law 26.639) in 2010 to protect these strategic water reserves by restricting any activities that could harm their natural condition. Among them: mining.
Copper for the Transition, Glaciers in Dispute: Why is the mining industry an “ally of the environment”?
Critical minerals, as their name suggests, are those considered essential for the development of key technologies, including defense, health, electronics, and renewable energies. To meet the global goal of limiting temperature rise to just 1.5°C, countries must stop feeding one of the main engines of climate change: the fossil fuel industry. Instead, they must develop “clean” energy sources capable of generating electricity from renewable resources such as wind, solar, or hydropower.
Among the many minerals required for this transition, copper holds a central place. This reddish metal, the second-best conductor after silver, is indispensable for the efficient transmission of electricity. In fact, around 70% of the copper used worldwide goes into electrical applications, thanks to its excellent thermal conductivity and resistance to corrosion.
However, for specific industries, copper has become the workhorse that justifies a new wave of so-called “green” extractive projects. After all, its primary source is mining, an activity that, by definition, carries multiple threats to ecosystems and local communities. If the world were to meet the rising demand for just five of the minerals deemed essential for the energy transition, it would require developing between 145 and 245 additional mines by 2030. The geographic distribution of these resources is far from neutral: critical minerals are highly concentrated in a few regions, with Latin America playing a particularly strategic role — led by Chile and followed by Peru in copper production.
In this global scenario, where demand for the “red metal” is expected to outstrip supply within a decade, Argentina is eager to position itself as a new supplier.
With over 90.43 million tons of copper identified in national reserves, the country’s mining industry seeks to expand extraction despite infrastructural, financial, and, by its own assessment, environmental limitations. According to Roberto Cacciola, president of the Argentine Chamber of Mining Entrepreneurs (CAEM), copper is no longer “a potential industry in Argentina, but a reality that depends on whether we decide to develop it.”
With most of Argentina’s copper deposits located in provinces bordering the Andes, where the nation’s water sources originate, Cacciola asserts that 75% of proposed copper projects require that ‘the glacier issue be resolved.’ The “issue” he refers to is none other than the Glacier Law itself.
Although attempts to alter the law have been ongoing for more than a decade, the current debate centers largely on Article 2, which protects the periglacial environment, frozen or partially frozen soils that act as water regulators and provide structural support to glaciers, but lacks clear guidelines for its delineation. And according to the mining industry, this ambiguity creates legal uncertainty and discourages investment in new ventures.
Unlike previous lobbying efforts (in 2008 and 2016), this time the discursive framing hinges on the energy transition itself. The industry’s logic is that modifying the law would not represent an environmental setback or a violation of the Escazú Agreement, but rather a necessary adjustment to contribute to global decarbonization goals. This justification mirrors what journalist Amy Westervelt has described through the concept of “petroganda”: when a polluting industry reframes itself as part of the solution to the environmental crisis without acknowledging its own role in creating it. Mining, Cacciola insists, is a beneficial activity and an “ally to the environment.”
Yet, despite such confident declarations and the explicit support of Argentina’s national government for modifying the law through a presidential decree, experts caution that such a legislative change would be neither simple nor immediate.
“Since the Glacier Law was enacted, there has been constant pressure to modify it, but so far no significant changes have occurred at the national level,” notes Marcelo Giraud, geographer and professor at the National University of Cuyo.
Andrés Nápoli, executive director of the Environment and Natural Resources Foundation (FARN), agrees: “This year there’s been plenty of talk from CAEM and provincial governments about changing the law. But if that’s the case, let them present a concrete proposal. They already tried to amend it in 2024 and failed. If they want to try again, they should do it formally, and then it will be debated as it should.”
For Giraud, rather than an imminent modification, what’s underway is a discursive strategy aimed at eroding social consensus around the law. “They’re pushing the idea that it’s incompatible with development and with the energy transition,” he explains. “But what they actually want is to open up protected areas to mining.”
Perhaps the greatest threat does not come from the national Congress, but from the provinces. Both San Juan and Mendoza, where mining projects have advanced into periglacial zones, are already operating on the edge, or in outright contradiction, of the law. “San Juan has managed quite well to avoid complying with glacier protection laws,” Nápoli remarks with irony, “and now we’re seeing the same thing happening in Mendoza, in Malargüe.”
Defending glaciers in the age of copper
“They come and tell us that to transition we need to extract copper, that humanity’s future depends on the copper found here… but the mountains they destroy and the rivers they pollute are our mountains, our rivers,” says Gabriel Jofré, spokesperson for the Malalweche Mapuche community, one of 25 Indigenous groups in Malargüe, reflecting on the industry’s pro-transition discourse.
Today, Mendoza is rapidly approving copper mining projects, both for exploration and extraction, in areas that include glaciers and periglacial environments. Meanwhile, Indigenous communities are being denied access to key documents such as Environmental Impact Declarations (DIAs).
One of the most concerning examples is the Malargüe Western Mining District (MDMO) project, described on its official website as “a tool developed by the Government of Mendoza through Impulsa Mendoza S.A. to address the challenge posed by the global energy transition.” The initiative covers more than 20,000 square kilometers, approximately 1.9 million hectares, spanning the mountainous and central-southern areas of Malargüe in southern Mendoza Province.
By the end of 2024 alone, 34 DIAs had been approved under Mendoza’s Provincial Law 9588, with the provincial government itself acknowledging the presence of glaciers in the proposed areas. When asked about the content of these documents, geographer Marcelo Giraud observed: “The text of all 34 is identical, word for word, except for the name of the mining project. The provisions outlining the terms of the DIA and the obligations imposed on the companies are exactly the same, regardless of whether the site sits at 4,000 meters above sea level or below 1,000. They’re the same articles about glaciers.”
Even before the Mendoza legislature approved these projects, IANIGLA issued a technical report noting that “within the boundaries of the MDMO, debris-covered glaciers have been identified above 2,629 meters above sea level… the periglacial environment may extend to lower elevations… in higher areas, permafrost is present with ground temperatures below 0°C year-round.” The report further stated that none of the 34 DIAs clearly explained how potential impacts on the features protected by Law 26.639 would be assessed.
IANIGLA also flagged the inclusion of a so-called “caution zone” of 500 meters around glaciers, questioning both its origin and the scientific criteria used to define it.
“We waited and used that time to file an objection,” recalls Jofré. “But they replied five months later, saying that the legislature had already approved the projects and turned them into law, that our appeal was out of time.”
In an interview with Climate Tracker, Jimena Latorre, Mendoza’s environment minister, defended her position: “I want to know where the glaciers are, what condition they’re in, and how to protect that periglacial environment. It’s not enough for someone to say ‘everything above a certain altitude is periglacial.’ That doesn’t seem like a sufficient scientific criterion to me.”
But science is more than just data.
Laura Zalazar, director of the National Glacier Inventory at IANIGLA, explains that the team responsible for documenting glaciers consists of only four people. “It’s as if everything falls on IANIGLA,” she says. “I agree that we need more data, but it’s not just the institute’s responsibility. We all have to contribute. Working in the mountains isn’t easy, it takes resources, logistics, and trained people. There’s still a lot to be done.”
Beyond the issue of institutional capacity, the law itself contains weaknesses that make it easier for provincial governments and mining companies to sidestep compliance, without formally changing a single article.
Although Law 26.639 is widely known as the Glacier Law, its full name is Law of Minimum Standards for the Protection of Glaciers and the Periglacial Environment. Like other environmental “minimum standards” laws, it applies nationwide and does not require provincial ratification to take effect. However, because provinces have constitutional control over their natural resources, enforcement often becomes a political and legal battlefield.
“There’s no institutional mechanism for the national government to force provincial compliance,” explains Andrés Nápoli, executive director of FARN. “These laws apply directly, but if a province refuses to enforce them, the federal government can’t intervene, every case has to go through the courts. What I do know,” he adds, “is that the only beneficiaries of mining royalties are the provinces themselves.”
Not everything that shines is…copper.
Although the industry continues to portray it as the only possible path forward, mining is not the sole way to obtain copper. In fact, according to the Latin American Energy Organization (OLADE), 20% of the refined copper currently produced in the region comes from recycling — a process that consumes up to 80% less energy than extracting it directly from rock. Considering that, to decarbonize their economies by 2050, Latin American countries will need to double their copper output, and boosting recycling is essential.
Yet the idea that mining is inevitable persists.
In an interview with Climate Tracker, Minister Latorre stated, “It’s very hypocritical to think in such radical environmental terms, to say, ‘we don’t want mining.’ Don’t want mining where? Nowhere? Because the environment is one and the same. And if mining doesn’t happen anywhere in the world, then I ask you, in your profession, the farmer in theirs, even the musician who needs those sound bars full of metals, where do the materials come from? So we end up with a very limited discussion, one where you simply want the impact to fall on someone else.” Far from being an isolated opinion, her statement reflects a prevailing narrative, one that treats mineral extraction as a condition of existence, even in the face of proven alternatives.
Argentina’s own Copper 2025 Report, published by the Ministry of Economy, acknowledges that “a significant portion of copper material discarded during the manufacturing of goods, and even from products that have reached the end of their life cycle, is recovered and recycled, reentering the production circuit as scrap for a new refining process.” The document also outlines two sharply different scenarios for refined copper production: one in which the country adopts recycling policies and achieves a supply surplus by 2040, and another, less optimistic one, where recovery rates remain stagnant and, by mid-century, pressure for new mining projects resurges.
When Climate Tracker reached out, Argentina’s Secretariat of Mining did not respond to questions about whether the country plans to develop a copper recycling program as part of its energy transition. As in much of the territory, we are still waiting for an answer.
This article was produced with the support of Climate Tracker América Latina
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