The Biden administration has — in rhetoric and policy — revived a familiar Washington playbook: marshal allies and hoard strategic resources to blunt a rival’s leverage. In early February U.S. officials announced plans to assemble a “critical minerals” partnership of roughly 30 countries and to back a $12 billion public–private stockpile covering rare earths, lithium, cobalt and nickel. The measures are framed as insurance against disruption after recent Chinese export controls and long-standing Chinese dominance of mineral processing exposed vulnerabilities in American defence and high-tech supply chains.
That vulnerability is not theoretical. Advanced weapons and commercial technologies depend on dozens of critical elements beyond the usual headlines about lithium. Gallium, germanium and antimony feed sensors, semiconductors and guidance systems; rare-earth elements are indispensable for permanent magnets in jet engines and missile seekers; graphite is crucial for batteries and electronics. U.S. defence contractors moved quickly last winter after Chinese export controls squeezed inventories, and Pentagon supply lines for certain parts were reported to have only weeks of cover for fighter jet production.
Washington’s plan has three visible strands. First, a diplomatic push to create an allied procurement and rules-setting club that reduces dependence on Chinese suppliers by pooling demand and creating alternate supply corridors. Second, direct government financing to underwrite stockpiles and incentivise private firms — including Boeing and General Motors — to reserve critical-materials capacity. Third, a broader push to expand mining, refining and recycling capacity in partner economies.
The short-term logic is clear: stockpiles and allied coordination can buy time and blunt the immediate shock of export curbs. But the economics and technology underpinning China’s advantage are deeper. Beijing does not merely sell ore; it controls refining and separation capacity that turns low-grade minerals into high-value feedstocks. Those refining processes, industrial networks and skilled workforces were built over decades and are thin on the ground outside China. Simply hoarding raw materials without commensurate processing and manufacturing capacity is a stopgap.
Europe has signalled readiness to join Washington’s efforts, with talks underway on memoranda of understanding to secure joint supply channels. That alignment underscores how acute the strategic problem is: balancing industrial risk-sharing with political friction among partners. Brussels has tried to insist on language about territorial integrity in its proposals, a nod to diplomatic sensitivities, but the practical test will be whether allies are willing to make sustained industrial investments rather than intermittent political gestures.
If the objective is genuine de‑dependence, the hard work lies beyond headlines and stockpiles. It means investing in refining technology, permitting mines and processing plants faster, creating viable recycling markets, and accepting short-term cost increases in strategic supply chains. It also means confronting the political reality that an alliance driven by transactional incentives can fray when commercial priorities diverge. Washington’s move is significant as an opening salvo; whether it yields a durable alternative to China’s processing hegemony remains an open question.