Journey through the story of phosphate trade connecting Western Sahara and New Zealand.
In the heart of Western Sahara, the Bou Craa mine stretches across the desert. Phosphate extracted here is transported via the world's longest conveyor belt, bound for foreign markets—including New Zealand.
The Saharawi people receive no benefit from this trade. Instead, Morocco profits from resources taken from occupied lands, in defiance of international law.
Zooming in on the Bou Craa mine, we see one of the world's longest conveyor belts—spanning over 100 kilometres from the mine to the coast. This infrastructure physically embodies the flow of resources from the desert interior to foreign export vessels.
The satellite view reveals the sheer scale of the operation: massive extraction pits, dusty processing facilities, and an industrial pipeline cutting through the desert towards the Atlantic.
From this height, we see the full extent of Western Sahara's geography—split by the Berm, a militarised sand wall dividing Moroccan-controlled areas from Saharawi-administered lands.
To the east lies the Free Zone, largely uninhabited and dotted with refugee camps beyond the borders in Algeria. To the west, the occupied zone connects phosphate ports, fishing harbours, and a growing web of extractive infrastructure.
Near the Algerian border lie the refugee camps of the displaced Sahrawi population. These camps have existed since the 1970s, housing thousands in harsh desert conditions.
This prototype highlights the location with a simple 3D extrusion, symbolising future layers to come.
Bulk shipments of phosphate rock arrive at New Zealand ports—Auckland and Tauranga—from vessels chartered through obscure shipping routes. These materials are offloaded and sent to fertiliser co-ops.
For most New Zealanders, these shipments go unnoticed. Yet they symbolise a continued economic relationship with an occupied territory.
In Wellington, MPs are confronted with questions around New Zealand's role in the phosphate trade. Despite calls from civil society and activists, the government has yet to act decisively.
Public pressure grows as awareness spreads. Campaigns call for transparency and ethical sourcing that respects international law and indigenous sovereignty.
Headquartered in Christchurch, Ravensdown is one of the key players in importing conflict phosphate. Despite mounting evidence and ethical concerns, they continue the trade.
Advocates demand answers and accountability, urging co-operatives to divest from conflict minerals and support sustainable, just alternatives.
Queenstown represents New Zealand's pristine image abroad—an image at odds with the hidden phosphate trade. Tourists see clean landscapes, unaware of the ethical stains carried in the nation's soil.
This contradiction fuels a broader conversation: can a truly clean, green country rely on materials taken unjustly from occupied land?