Australia’s ambition to anchor the democratic world’s critical minerals supply chains won’t be realised by government action alone. Nor will free markets, left to their own devices, deliver the resilient, transparent and strategically aligned supply chains needed to underwrite national security and economic sovereignty.
What’s becoming increasingly clear is that the future of non-Chinese critical mineral supply chains will be forged at the intersection of government policy and private capital. And in that mix, the government will have no choice but to pick winners.
For the past two decades, Canberra has been reluctant to directly back individual firms or projects in the resources sector, preferring to shape the playing field rather than support a specific player. But times have changed. As China’s grip tightens across critical mineral processing and advanced manufacturing, democratic governments are scrambling to catalyse alternative supply chains. That imperative will require uncomfortable, interventionist choices.
Enter Gina Rinehart.
While many companies still pitch PowerPoints to government officials in Canberra, Washington and Berlin, Rinehart has already cut a cheque—or rather, several. From iron ore to lithium, rare earths, copper and potash, Rinehart has methodically built a portfolio that reads like a Western-aligned counterweight to China’s critical minerals dominance.
Her 18 percent blocking stake in Azure Minerals delivered a lithium foothold with Chilean major mining company SQM. In rare earths, she holds stakes in Australia’s Lynas, the United States’ MP Materials, and Brazil’s monazite-rich Brazilian Rare Earths. Her Ecuadorian venture with state-owned ENAMI and her royalty stream in Anglo American’s Britain-based Woodsmith potash project round out a strategy that prioritises equity exposure, supply chain leverage and geographic diversification.
And crucially, Rinehart is executing this without waiting on government help or direction.
But therein lies the conflict. Her investments align with the strategic interests of Western democracies: diversified, non-Chinese critical-mineral supply chains. Yet they also highlight the scale of Australia’s policy inertia and strategic uncertainty. While the government speaks in white papers and roadmaps, Rinehart’s Hancock Prospecting moves capital at speed.
Should we be concerned? Yes and no.
On one hand, Rinehart’s agility, deep pockets and operational credibility offer a real-world counterweight to Chinese dominance. Her willingness to co-invest with foreign governments and firms positions Australia as a credible partner in an increasingly fragmented global mineral landscape. On the other hand, uncomfortable questions about concentration risk and long-term regulation arise when we rely on single private actors as the connective tissue across multiple critical mineral projects globally. The dependability of key aspects of a critical-mineral supply chain could increasingly hinge on the strategic choices of an individual. This is a general matter of principle, not a criticism of any particular actor, such as Rinehart.
The situation exposes the dilemma at the heart of Australia’s approach: governments must pick winners to build sovereign supply chains, but, without robust regulation, that strategy risks entrenching new dependencies even as it seeks to dismantle old ones.
Governments aiming to de-risk supply chains must now reckon with the possibility that their strategic resilience may hinge on a handful of private players who may not always align with national policy goals. That’s why future policy frameworks will need to balance agility and scale with accountability and competition. And that means embracing three uncomfortable truths.
First, governments will need to actively partner with private firms, not just through grants or soft loans, but through equity co-investment, strategic offtake agreements and joint project development. The US’s Inflation Reduction Act and the European Union’s Critical Raw Materials Act point in this direction, but Australia still trails in deploying its policy and financial levers at the scale required.
Second, there’s no way around picking winners. Whether through the Northern Australia Infrastructure Facility, the Critical Minerals Facility, or the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade’s public-private financing tools, Australia will need to anoint strategic projects, not just shovel-ready ones. That requires moving beyond politically safe bets and backing projects that may be higher risk but offer transformative potential for downstream processing and domestic value capture.
Third, we must remain vigilant about the risks of commercial concentration. As seen in the global semiconductor and vaccine markets, even well-intentioned policy can be undone when too much strategic capacity rests with too few actors. Australia’s critical minerals strategy must build redundancy and diversity, not just speed and scale.
This leaves us staring at an uncomfortable reality: if we want supply chains that are sovereign, secure and sustainable, then government and industry sectors must work together, not at arm’s length, but as joint architects. That will require Canberra to move beyond passive facilitation and into active orchestration.
Rinehart is playing a different game, and she’s playing it well. Her portfolio reflects not just commercial acumen, but strategic foresight. Rather than waiting for Canberra to address critical mineral market volatility, she’s showing us how to build alternative resilient supply chains.
The question now is whether the Australian government and its partners are ready to match that strategic intent with equally bold policy settings. If we want to build a world where critical-mineral supply chains don’t end in Beijing, then we need to get serious about who we back, how we partner and what risks we’re willing to take.