Mercury trade is fueling a silent environmental and human health disaster across Latin America. This in-depth personal reflection explores the scale, causes, and consequences of illegal mercury circulation, with a focus on its deadly role in gold mining operations.
As someone deeply concerned about environmental and human health issues, I feel compelled to speak out about a crisis that is silently poisoning communities and ecosystems across Latin America. It’s a crisis most people don’t talk about, yet its consequences are catastrophic. I’m talking about the mercury trade, an underground economy thriving on neglect, corruption, and desperation — a toxic supply chain that connects remote mines to global markets, leaving behind devastated rainforests, poisoned rivers, and broken lives.
Back in 2017, Mexico proudly announced its commitment to phasing out mercury production as part of its obligations under the Minamata Convention on Mercury, a global treaty aimed at reducing mercury emissions and protecting public health. Initially, the numbers appeared promising. National mercury output reportedly fell from 442 metric tons in 2017 to just half a ton by 2018. The country even claimed zero production in the years that followed.
But for many environmental watchdogs, those figures seemed too good to be true — and they were.
Several sections of Mexico’s mercury reports were either incomplete or left blank. There were no comprehensive details on smuggling activities, informal extraction, or clandestine sales. Eventually, the Mexican government had to backtrack and revise its data, acknowledging that mercury production had not completely ceased. In fact, it still persists in several states, including within protected ecological zones.
Today, the mercury trade in Mexico has spun out of control, driven by soaring prices, rising violence, and, according to investigative reports, infiltration by criminal cartels. The Environmental Investigation Agency (EIA) recently warned that drug trafficking organizations have taken over productive mercury mines, turning what was once a loosely regulated industry into a deeply entrenched criminal enterprise.
To understand the scale of the crisis, one must understand why mercury trade is so valuable — and so dangerous.
Mercury is a silvery, heavy metal that binds easily with gold. In artisanal and small-scale gold mining (ASGM), which employs tens of millions of people across the globe, mercury is used to extract gold from ore. It’s cheap, accessible, and effective. But it’s also highly toxic.
The World Health Organization (WHO) lists mercury among the top 10 chemicals of major public health concern. Once released into the environment, mercury contaminates soil and water, where it transforms into methylmercury, a powerful neurotoxin that accumulates in fish and shellfish and works its way up the food chain. Exposure causes cognitive impairments, kidney damage, and irreversible neurological disorders — especially in children and pregnant women.
In regions like Madre de Dios in Peru, a hotspot for illegal gold mining, the consequences have been catastrophic. Satellite imagery shows massive deforestation scars, while scientific studies confirm that mercury levels in the local population exceed safe limits by multiple factors. And this isn’t just a Peruvian problem — it’s a regional epidemic.
The mercury trade fuels this devastation, providing a steady supply of toxic material to mining operations from Bolivia to Brazil, Colombia to Venezuela. And much of it is sourced illegally from Mexico.
The reality on the ground is grim. mercury trade smuggling networks operate with relative impunity. They exploit legal loopholes, bribe local officials, and bypass environmental regulations with ease.
Customs inspections are rare and underfunded. In some border regions, it’s common for mercury to be mislabeled as “chemicals” or “cleaning solutions” to avoid detection. In other cases, entire shipments are transported via unmonitored back roads or rivers under the protection of armed groups.
What’s more disturbing is that many of the countries fueling the demand for mercury trade are signatories of the Minamata Convention, meaning that — in theory — they’ve committed to reducing mercury use. But enforcement is uneven and often politically sensitive. Some governments turn a blind eye due to economic dependency on gold exports. Others simply lack the institutional capacity to monitor and control informal mining activities.
As a result, a toxic black market flourishes, where criminal cartels, corrupt officials, and desperate miners form a supply chain that profits from planetary destruction.
Beyond environmental degradation, the human cost of the mercury trade is staggering. In informal mining camps, workers handle mercury with bare hands. Fumes from burning mercury-gold amalgams are inhaled without any protective gear. Children play near contaminated streams, and pregnant women unknowingly consume poisoned fish.
Over time, the effects become visible: developmental disorders in infants, respiratory illnesses, miscarriages, and shortened life expectancy.
I recently read a heartbreaking testimony from a young miner in Bolivia who had been working in a mine since age 14. His hands trembled uncontrollably, and he spoke of constant fatigue and confusion. Doctors confirmed chronic mercury poisoning. He had no health insurance, no legal protection, and no alternatives.
These are the voices we rarely hear — but they are the most important.
From an ecological standpoint, the mercury trade has already left deep scars. Tropical rainforests once teeming with biodiversity have been stripped bare. Rivers that once sustained entire communities are now biologically dead. Mercury, unlike other pollutants, does not degrade over time. It persists in ecosystems for decades, poisoning everything in its path.
In the Amazon Basin alone, it’s estimated that hundreds of tons of mercury are released annually through ASGM operations. And yet, governments continue to underreport or ignore these emissions, focusing instead on short-term economic gains.
Scientists warn that if the current trajectory continues, large portions of South America’s freshwater ecosystems could become permanently contaminated, affecting food security, indigenous livelihoods, and even global climate stability.
What angers me most is the global hypocrisy surrounding this issue. Countries in the Global North — who claim to be champions of environmental justice — continue to import gold from regions where mercury use is rampant. Refineries and luxury brands often fail to verify the supply chain, choosing profit over ethics.
Even worse, several industrialized nations still mercury trade to the Global South, often through indirect routes that skirt international agreements.
This makes the Minamata Convention feel hollow. Signed with great fanfare, the treaty now struggles with enforcement, transparency, and accountability. And while civil society organizations do their best to fill the gaps, they lack the political clout to enact real change.
One organization doing commendable work in this space is Human Rights Watch, which published a powerful report on mercury exposure in small-scale gold mining. Their research provides a much-needed spotlight on the issue and gives voice to the countless victims of this silent crisis.
🔗 Toxic Toil: Mercury Exposure and Children’s Rights in Artisanal and Small-Scale Gold Mining – Human Rights Watch
The fight against the mercury trade will not be easy, but it’s not impossible.
This article is not written by a scientist or a politician — just someone who believes we can no longer ignore the environmental and human toll of a hidden, toxic economy. The mercury trade is not merely a distant problem in some remote jungle. It’s a global injustice that connects the choices we make — from the gold we wear to the policies we support — to the suffering of others.
We owe it to the planet, and to each other, to expose this silent poison and demand a more just, transparent, and sustainable system. Because every life poisoned by mercury is a life that matters.
