Dedi Supriadi stands on the edge of his aubergine and cucumber farm in Citorek Kidul, Indonesia, the same land where he once risked his life digging for gold. After years spent chiseling deep inside the region’s scarred hillsides, inhaling dust and relying on makeshift air hoses, Supriadi is now part of a small but growing movement: former miners returning to traditional livelihoods in places once devastated by illegal gold mining. His story is just one among thousands that illustrate the global struggle to curb illicit mining—a crisis that now stretches from Indonesia’s rainforests to the abandoned shafts of South Africa and the deforested Amazon.
Citorek Kidul, a hamlet of 1,800 nestled in the mountains 130 kilometers southwest of Jakarta, sits at the heart of the Kasepuhan Banten Kidul traditional community. For generations, its people protected sacred forests and harvested rice, but that balance was upended after the state-run mining company Aneka Tambang (ANTAM) ceased operations in the 1990s. Left behind were traces of gold and a gaping economic void. According to the Thomson Reuters Foundation, villagers—driven by economic hardship and a lack of oversight—began to dig anew, this time without the safety nets or environmental safeguards of a formal operation.
“The green vegetation around the mountains is stripped away, leaving rainwater to rush downhill without any natural buffer,” warned Sukmadi Jaya Rukmana, a local agricultural officer now helping miners transition back to farming. The environmental costs of this shift were immediate and severe: deforestation, water pollution from mercury and cyanide, and the ever-present threat of deadly landslides. “I’d rather stick to small-scale farming like this than go back to the mines. I’m scared of getting buried, especially during the rainy season,” Supriadi explained, echoing the concerns of many in his community.
The health risks were just as daunting. “Many of my friends developed tuberculosis and lung problems—probably from the dust while chiseling and the air pumped in from the machines,” Supriadi told Thomson Reuters Foundation. The mining shafts, some plunging as deep as 150 meters, offered little protection from cave-ins or toxic air. Stone carver Sumantri described the work as “risky down there—prone to collapse. We had to bring in timber to brace the walls.” For all this, many miners earned as little as 100,000 Indonesian Rupiah (about $6) a day, with most striking gold only rarely.
Indonesia is far from alone in grappling with the consequences of illegal gold mining. In August 2025, The South African reported that illicit mining surged across Africa, fueled by record gold prices surpassing $2,500 per ounce and a wave of cartel activity. Small-scale and artisanal mining now accounts for a significant chunk of global production, particularly in Africa and Latin America. But the profits come at a steep cost, as organized crime groups—including drug cartels and the Wagner Group—funnel money from gold into terrorism and transnational crime networks. The United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) has repeatedly warned that these illicit operations undermine regional stability and finance conflicts.
South Africa’s own struggle with illegal mining reached a tragic climax in January 2025, when police laid siege to the Stilfontein mine in an attempt to flush out 2,000 illegal miners, known locally as zama zamas. At least 87 people died during the operation, and of the 246 survivors rescued, most were foreign nationals from Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Lesotho. The government estimated that illegal mining cost the country 60 billion Rand in 2024 alone, with over 6,000 derelict mine shafts now controlled by criminal gangs. Civil rights groups condemned the siege as a humanitarian disaster and a glaring policy failure.
Environmental devastation is a common thread across continents. In Indonesia, illegal mining has left deep pits and tunnels that are nearly impossible to restore, according to research published in Media Ekonomi. In South Africa, pollution from illegal mining has smothered yellowfish eggs in the Blyde River, threatening both biodiversity and water security for the Hoedspruit region and its citrus farms. Dr. Francois Roux, an aquatic scientist with the Mpumalanga Tourism and Parks Agency, directly linked failed yellowfish spawning to sediment stirred up by illegal mining. Aerial surveys in August 2024 found 50 active illegal mining sites near Pilgrim’s Rest, with the Kruger to Canyons Biosphere warning of a downstream ecosystem collapse.
The Amazon, too, has suffered. The Monitoring of the Andean Amazon Project (MAAP) satellites tracked deforestation in Peru’s Madre de Dios region, revealing that about 36% of Amazon mining deforestation occurs within protected areas and Indigenous territories—much of it likely illegal, according to the Amazon Conservation Association’s MAAP program.
Efforts to stem the tide of illegal mining have taken many forms, with varying degrees of success. In Indonesia, local authorities and agricultural officers like Rukmana are working to help miners return to traditional, less destructive ways of life. As of August 2025, ten former miners in Citorek Kidul had shifted to agriculture, producing a surplus of vegetables that could help boost the local economy. “There needs to be economic diversification into other sectors, such as agriculture, plantations or inland fisheries,” said Rezki Syahrir, CEO of the Indonesian Initiative for Sustainable Mining (IISM). But the transition isn’t simple. As Rukmana put it, “They still need money to send their kids to school, to pay for electricity. And you can’t exactly pay the power bill with a sack of rice, can you?”
Ghana has turned to technology, deploying AI drones to monitor illegal mining daily and using remote systems to disable illicit machinery. According to Swissaid, 229 metric tons of gold were smuggled from Ghana between 2019 and 2023. Major gold producers like Gold Fields now spend millions annually on surveillance and armed patrols, while Ghana’s Minerals Commission can remotely shut down illegal operations.
Internationally, UNODC has called for stronger corporate accountability and greater regional cooperation. In May 2025, the agency urged gold-consuming markets—especially those with opaque supply chains, like Dubai-based refineries—to tighten controls and prevent illicit gold from entering the formal market. Watchdogs have flagged gold from the Democratic Republic of the Congo and Rwanda as particularly high-risk, citing its links to conflict financing and human rights abuses.
Back in Citorek Kidul, Supriadi has found a measure of peace. After leaving mining in 2016, he now runs a motorcycle repair shop and enjoys the stability and safety that farming and small business provide. “In gold mining, your body’s pushed to the limit. It just drains you,” he reflected. “For me, working on the farm is far better.”
As gold prices soar and illicit mining operations expand, the challenge for governments, communities, and international agencies is clear: how to balance economic need with environmental protection and human rights. The path forward will require not only crackdowns and technology, but also sustainable alternatives that give former miners like Supriadi a real stake in a healthier, safer future.
