The world is celebrating a new technological age. Electric vehicles, solar panels, artificial intelligence, smart grids and digital infrastructure are being promoted as the foundations of a smarter, cleaner, greener, and more sustainable future.

But every transition has a footprint. The uncomfortable question is whether today’s “clean” technologies are truly clean.

The latest report of the United Nations University Institute for Water, Environment and Health (UNU-INWEH) answers this fundamental question. The evidence it provides should give decision makers pause.

The sustainability transition paradox

The global race for critical minerals such as lithium, cobalt, copper, graphite and rare earth elements is becoming one of the defining resource challenges of the 21st century. These minerals are the new oil . They power electric vehicles, wind turbines, smartphones, data centers, smart grids and defense technologies used in modern wars.

Demand for critical minerals is projected to quadruple by 2050. Demand for lithium, graphite and cobalt alone could increase by up to 500%. Meeting this demand will require massive new extraction, often in the developing world and in regions already facing water scarcity, weak environmental governance, and deep social vulnerability.

This is the paradox of the clean transition : technologies designed to reduce carbon emissions can provide major economic, environmental and health benefits in the rich parts of the world but deepen water insecurity, pollution, health risks and inequality elsewhere. That is not a reason to abandon the energy and digital transitions. But it is a reason to stop pretending that they are automatically sustainable.

Mining critical minerals is extraordinarily water intensive. Producing a single metric ton of lithium can require close to two million liters of water, depending on location and extraction method. In 2024 alone, global lithium production consumed an estimated 456 billion liters of water, roughly equivalent to the annual domestic water needs of more than 60 million people in sub-Saharan Africa.

These pressures are not abstract. They are felt most sharply in arid regions where mining draws on groundwater and brine systems that recharge slowly, if at all on human time scales. In Chile’s Salar de Atacama, lithium and copper mining account for up to 65% of regional water use. This intensifies competition with agriculture and household consumption and accelerates groundwater depletion.

Globally, around 16% of critical mineral mining sites are located in areas already experiencing high water stress. In such places, additional extraction is not simply an industrial activity. It is a claim on water systems that may already be failing.

Pollution compounds the problem. Mining generates wastewater containing heavy metals, acids and toxic by-products. Rare earth production can generate up to 2,000 tons of toxic waste for every ton of usable material. In many mining regions, rivers, wells and aquifers are made unsafe for drinking, farming and sanitation. The damage can last long after the minerals have been exported and the profits booked elsewhere.

The burden is not shared equally. Countries such as the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Chile , Bolivia and Peru supply many of the raw materials that make clean energy and digital growth possible in wealthier economies. Yet local communities often face polluted water, declining food production, worsening health outcomes and persistent economic marginalization.

This is why the language of a “green” or “clean” transition can sound hollow in mining regions. A driver in Los Angeles or London may experience an electric vehicle as cleaner mobility. A farmer near a water-bankrupt basin may experience the same transition as one more demand on a shrinking aquifer. Both realities can be true at the same time.

The issue is not whether the world should pursue clean energy and digital transformation. It must. The issue is whether the current model repeats an old mistake: extracting value from vulnerable regions while exporting benefits elsewhere.

Oil created sacrifice zones in the Middle East. Critical minerals are creating new ones in Africa and South America. Communities living near mining sites can face elevated risks of skin disease, respiratory illness, reproductive disorders and birth defects, especially among women and children. Contaminated water also weakens sanitation and hygiene systems, increasing vulnerability to infectious disease and long-term disability.

For businesses, governments and investors, this is not only an ethical problem. It is a systemic risk.

Water scarcity, environmental degradation and community opposition can delay projects, disrupt supply chains and raise costs. Weak governance and pollution can expose companies to reputational damage, litigation and investor backlash. Most importantly, the perception of hypocrisy can erode public trust in the transition itself. Branding technologies as clean while tolerating harm elsewhere is not a stable foundation for long-term transformation.

Nor can these problems be solved by individual companies acting alone. Water stress, pollution and environmental injustice are not isolated local issues. They are embedded in global supply chains, financial markets and consumption patterns. The responsibility is shared because the benefits are shared.

Toward a fairer mineral economy

A smarter path is possible.

First, the world must move beyond voluntary guidelines and corporate self-reporting. Stronger international standards are needed for water use, pollution control and human rights due diligence. Transparent and comparable reporting on water consumption and contamination should become the norm, especially in high-risk regions.

Second, innovation must reduce the water footprint of extraction. Less water-intensive methods, including direct lithium extraction, can help reduce freshwater demand. Recycling and circular-economy strategies can also reduce pressure on new mining by recovering minerals from used batteries, electronics and other end-of-life products.

Third, affected communities must be treated as stakeholders, not obstacles. Meaningful consultation, fair compensation and sustained investment in local water, sanitation and health systems are essential. There can be no true social license to operate when communities lose access to safe water while others enjoy the benefits of “clean” technologies.

Finally, responsibility cannot stop at the mine gate. Consumers, investors and markets drive extraction through demand for electric vehicles, digital devices and data-intensive services. Longer-lasting, repairable products, stronger supply-chain transparency and better standards can help reshape the system.

The future may be electric and digital. But that does not automatically make it just, clean or sustainable.

A truly clean transition must account for the water it consumes, the pollution it leaves behind and the communities asked to bear the cost. Whether the 21st century repeats the extractive mistakes of the past remains a choice.