Months After Mongolia and Orano Deal, Promise and Doubt Persist

By Zhamsrangin Sambu

Mongolia has long looked to uranium as a way to diversify beyond coal and copper. The Gobi’s deposits are substantial, and for decades French nuclear giant Orano has been circling. After years of delays, the two sides signed a $1.6 billion investment agreement in January 2025, a breakthrough that positions Mongolia as a potential new source of yellowcake for global markets. A shareholder agreement is now under negotiation, and Ulaanbaatar has updated its nuclear energy law to enable formal partnership with Orano.

The timing matters. France has been scrambling to replace uranium imports disrupted by the 2023 coup in Niger. Kazakhstan’s output dominates the market, but Mongolia’s Gobi fields—Zuuvch-Ovoo alone holds an estimated 90,000 tons—offer an alternative that could grow in strategic importance.

For Ulaanbaatar, the agreement is proof that years of Russian obstruction, whether real or rumored, were not enough to derail a deal with one of global key nuclear players.

Yet Mongolia’s path to becoming a uranium supplier is far from settled. Unlike Kazakhstan, which inherited Soviet-era infrastructure and experience, Mongolia starts with thin regulatory capacity, limited technical expertise, and a public deeply skeptical of nuclear projects.

Concerns range from groundwater contamination to the fate of herding communities near proposed mines. Civil society groups warn that without strict safeguards the country could slide into becoming a de facto nuclear waste site.

Political mistrust compounds these anxieties. Memories of past scandals remain fresh. Orano’s predecessor, Areva, agreed in late 2024 to pay a €4.8 million fine to settle a corruption case tied to its Mongolian activities between 2013 and 2017. Investigators traced controversial payments through local intermediaries, and the deal allowed the company to avoid prosecution. Though formally closed, the case reinforced public suspicion that uranium concessions feed elite networks rather than national development.

Parliamentarian Munkhbayasgalan of the Democratic Party has pushed for tighter oversight, calling for environmental testing and public hearings on uranium projects. Activists, meanwhile, are pressing for a petition to ban uranium mining.

The stakes extend beyond Mongolia’s borders. The U.S., Russia, China, France, and Britain all view uranium as a strategic commodity. Mongolia’s deposits may be modest by global standards, but their location in a politically fragile neighborhood gives them outsized weight. A successful uranium industry could strengthen Mongolia’s sovereignty and broaden its economic base. Failure would risk reinforcing the “resource curse”—corruption, ecological damage, and heightened dependence on powerful neighbors.

For now, Ulaanbaatar sits on the edge of opportunity. The Orano deal shows that Mongolia can attract serious investment despite geopolitical headwinds. Whether it can convert that agreement into a sustainable industry depends less on the geology than on politics: credible oversight, transparency, and public buy-in.

Uranium can enrich Mongolia, but only if it avoids becoming a radioactive chapter in its history of resource mismanagement.

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Zhamsrangin Sambu is a freelance writer based in Seoul.