Calumet — In March 2024, the Michigan Strategic Fund approved a $50 million grant to back a new copper mine in the western U.P. But as 2024 ended, Highland Copper, the Canadian company proposing the mine, had just one more hurdle to clear before it got the money: The Michigan Senate Appropriations Committee had to approve it.
But between March and December, something changed in people’s perception of the mine.
If you were paying attention, you probably saw an uptick in opposition online. Viral TikToks hated on the project. A change.org petition took off. Instagram stories were flooded with urges to sign the petition and write a letter to your senator. Everything pointed to environmental concerns.
The world took notice. “Michigan approves ‘extremely toxic’ copper mine just 100ft from Lake Superior,” read a Daily Mail headline. “Lake Superior at Risk From ‘Dangerous’ Copper Mine,” stated Newsweek.
Meanwhile, Northern Michigan University in Marquette, which had initially supported the mine, quietly pulled its endorsement.
Then, at the very last meeting of the Michigan Senate Appropriations Committee in December, the body declined to vote on the grant. No one knows what exactly will happen next.
You might assume such significant opposition was pushed by the people of Gogebic County, where the copper deposit is located. They must have rose up and led the charge against the evil Canadian miners.
The reality is a bit more curious. A man named Tom Grotewohl, who actually started the campaign via an organization he founded called “Protect the Porkies.” His change.org petition collected nearly 400,000 signatures—mostly from people living elsewhere (Gogebic County has a population of just 14,380). It was Grotewohl who urged Michiganders to write their elected officials, opposing the mine through the social media campaign.
And yes, he does currently live near the proposed mine, but he’s not from the area. He’s not from the Upper Peninsula either. He’s not even from Michigan. He’s from Kansas City.
According to a recent interview: “When Tom moved here a couple years ago, he didn’t know anything about the mine. He and his partner were in a congested city and wanted that peace and quiet. So they started looking at maps.”
Nothing wrong with that. Who doesn’t want to take in the deep dark sky on a clear night and enjoy the peace and quiet of nature? Moving to Michigan is great. Even if he doesn’t appear to own a home here, his interest in and enjoyment of our great state is wonderful.
But there’s a difference between someone who’s built their life in a place and someone who’s just moved in.
Longtime U.P. residents, people who have been there for generations, understand the area more than anyone, and they know first-hand the economic pain the region has suffered in recent decades.
For instance, between 2010 and 2020, the Lower Peninsula gained more than 200,000 residents. But in that same time, the U.P. lost nearly 10,000. And of the U.P.’s 15 counties, Gogebic County lost the most.
People left because of the economy. These areas need jobs and commerce so residents can stay. And what did one activist do? He made a job for himself out of keeping jobs out of the county.
Protect the Porkies asks for contributions on its website and is doubtless getting them. But not only is there no report of where the money is going, they do not appear to be a registered nonprofit with the State of Michigan.
The truth is, pollution and other ecological dilemmas concern longtime residents most of all. The residents of Gogebic County aren’t fair-weather environmental looky-loos. This isn’t playtime at the wildlife preserve. Livelihoods are at stake. And a recent poll of residents near the proposed mining area found that between 77% and 89% support the project.
The state initially wanted to support it for the same reasons—because it posed a brighter future for some of Michigan’s most overlooked residents. The promise is over 380 jobs and a $425 million investment in the area. These jobs could support a family. A huge boost in tax revenue could allow for improved infrastructure and better lives.
But even if none of that was true, it wouldn’t change the fact that it’s these Yoopers right to decide. In the age of the internet, the distant mob, or an activist with too much time on his hands, can play an outsized role in affairs that don’t really concern them.
Ultimately, it’s not so much about whether a person is pro-mine or anti-mine. It’s about the person. Do you live there? Is your skin in the game? Or are you a busybody with too much free time and a desire to make decisions for others, whether they like it or not?
The people of the U.P. deserve to decide what happens where they live.
Faye Root is a writer and a homeschooling mother based in Northern Michigan. Follow her on X @littlebayschool.
