Security

Clan del Golfo, Chinese mining giant and artisanal miners fight for Colombian gold

A deadly underground war pits China's Zijin Mining against the Clan del Golfo, while thousands of artisanal miners fight to survive between bullets, explosions and economic desperation.

A miner loads a pack horse with sacks of gold-laden rock extracted from an unlicensed mine in San Antonio, a remote village in the mountains near Buriticá, in Antioquia department, Colombia. [Raul Arboleda/AFP]
A miner loads a pack horse with sacks of gold-laden rock extracted from an unlicensed mine in San Antonio, a remote village in the mountains near Buriticá, in Antioquia department, Colombia. [Raul Arboleda/AFP]

By Entorno |

Buried deep beneath the mountains of Buriticá, in Colombia's Antioquia department, a brutal war for gold is playing out in the darkness.

More than 100km of tunnels runs beneath this rural municipality, an underground battlefield where the interests of a Chinese mining giant, an armed criminal group and thousands of desperate artisanal miners violently collide.

In 2019, Chinese firm Zijin Mining paid more than $1 billion for the rights to Colombia's largest legal gold mine. Since then, the company has faced far more than geological challenges.

"This mine is unique in the world. We are dealing with an armed conflict underground," said Eduardo Jiménez, director of security for the mine and a former special forces officer, in a 2024 broadcast by Caracol Television.

A miner toils inside an unlicensed gold mine in San Antonio, a remote mountain village near Buriticá, in Antioquia department, Colombia. [Raul Arboleda/AFP]
A miner toils inside an unlicensed gold mine in San Antonio, a remote mountain village near Buriticá, in Antioquia department, Colombia. [Raul Arboleda/AFP]

Workers targeted by gunmen

The fiercest threat comes from the Clan del Golfo, Colombia's largest criminal organization, which now controls about 60% of the mine's tunnels, according to the company.

Gunmen armed with rifles, makeshift bombs and explosive cylinders regularly target legal workers.

In one of the deadliest attacks, a blast in May 2023 killed two security staff and injured 14 others.

"This is trench warfare. They're 30 meters from us, shooting, threatening," said Esteban López, a worker who survived the explosion and still carries shrapnel in his body.

The company equips staff not just with helmets and lights but with bulletproof vests and Kevlar-reinforced headgear. "We're using military-grade armor just to work in a mine," López said.

Zijin has even retrofitted mining vehicles into improvised armored units to reclaim tunnels seized by illegal groups.

A hidden workforce

But beneath the bullets and barricades lies another, largely ignored reality: thousands of artisanal miners who risk their lives in the same tunnels.

Many, like "Pedro" (a pseudonym), arrived during the gold rush that began in the late 2000s and now endure unimaginable conditions, working and living underground for up to 30 days at a time.

"The Clan doesn't mine the gold; we do. It takes a 10% cut and sells us everything: mercury, gunpowder, even food," Pedro said.

Authorities estimate that more than 2,000 miners reside underground in this shadow economy. With no toilets, ventilation or medical support, miners sleep in hammocks among rats and survive in constant fear of gas leaks, collapses or attacks.

Zijin blames the government for failing to guarantee security.

It has sent repeated letters to Colombia's president. In July 2024 it sued Colombia through the International Center for Settlement of Investment Disputes.

"This isn't just a public order issue; it's a humanitarian crisis that demands long-term social intervention," said an unnamed company official quoted in local media.

From the opposite side of the conflict, artisanal miners are calling for real solutions.

"We're not criminals; we're trying to survive," said Pedro. Many have lived in the region for generations but now operate in legal limbo, with no licenses or support and under the watch of armed groups.

The gold beneath Buriticá, potentially 300 tons, is both a blessing and a curse. With global prices reaching record highs, the mine has become one of the country's most lucrative assets, and one of its most dangerous.

As the Clan del Golfo continues to fund its expansion through bloodstained gold, neither the multinational company, its workers nor the informal miners see a way out.

"What we need is for the state to finally look down [into the mines]," López said before descending once more into the tunnels.

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