On the final day of my research trip to the Copper Belt of Zambia, where I was examining the effects of critical minerals mining on human and environmental rights, I found myself with a few hours to spare before my flight. With time to kill, I decided to visit the Dag Hammarskjöld Crash Site Memorial. What I expected to be a casual visit turned into a profoundly inspiring experience, one that felt almost as though the universe had guided me there.

Officials search the crash site after the plane carrying Swedish diplomat Dag Hammarskjold (1905 – 1961), Secretary-General of the United Nations, crashed near Ndola in Zambia, resulting in his death in September 1961. Hammarskjold was on his way to negotiate a ceasefire with President Moise Tshombe of Katanga. (Photo by Central Press/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

Dag Hammarskjöld, although not a widely recognised name today, was a significant figure in global diplomacy as the second secretary general of the United Nations. At just 47 years old when he was appointed in 1953, he remains the youngest person to have ever held this prestigious position. The Swedish diplomat and economist met a tragic end in 1961 when his plane crashed in Ndola, Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), claiming his life and that of several other UN staff members. The crash occurred during his mission to mediate a ceasefire in the Congo Crisis.

While initial reports attributed the tragedy to pilot error, new evidence suggests the plane was shot down in an assassination plot, possibly with the complicity of British colonial authorities who may have sought to protect their mining interests in the Congo.

During his tenure, Hammarskjöld was renowned for his unwavering moral principles and his commitment to strengthening the newly established United Nations, both internally and on the global stage. He played a pivotal role in the first UN peacekeeping missions in Egypt and the Congo, personally intervening to resolve significant diplomatic crises, including the Congo Crisis. After the liberation of Belgian Congo from colonial rule, tensions escalated as Congolese troops turned against the Belgian colonisers, leading to widespread violence and destruction of property.

In the mineral-rich Katanga province, Moise Tshombe, with the backing of Belgian mercenaries, declared independence from the newly formed Republic of the Congo (today, the Democratic Republic of the Congo), igniting intense conflict among various factions. This turmoil culminated in a military coup in 1961, where Lieutenant-Colonel Joseph Mobutu seized power from Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba. Prior to the coup, the Congolese government had appealed to Hammarskjöld for intervention, seeking the deployment of peacekeeping forces to restore order. A critical peace negotiation was scheduled to take place in a neutral location, and Hammarskjöld selected Ndola as the meeting site. He, along with several UN staff members and security personnel, boarded the DC6 aircraft to attend this crucial meeting.

Göran Björkdahl, a Swedish aid worker, spent years investigating the mysterious circumstances surrounding Hammarskjöld’s death, uncovering evidence that contradicted the official narrative of pilot error. Björkdahl travelled to Ndola, where he interviewed several eyewitnesses who had been excluded from the original investigation. These witnesses provided compelling testimonies that pointed to foul play. Dickson Mbewe, an 84-year-old resident of Ndola, recounted: “Suddenly, we saw another aircraft approach the bigger aircraft at greater speed and release fire, which appeared as a bright light” (Björkdahl, 2011).

These eyewitness accounts aligned with additional evidence uncovered by Björkdahl, including previously unpublished telegrams from the days leading up to Hammarskjöld’s death on 17 September 1961. These documents revealed the deep frustration of the United States and British officials over a UN military operation, ordered by Hammarskjöld, aimed at quelling a rebellion in Congo’s Katanga region — a rebellion supported by Western mining companies and mercenaries. Hammarskjöld’s firm stance on decolonisation had increasingly alienated him from nearly all the major powers on the UN Security Council.

During my visit to the crash site, a local tour guide led my local partner and me around the memorial, recounting the story with great detail and vigour. He explained that Hammarskjöld’s plane had taken a long and winding route from Léopoldville (now Kinshasa) through Tanzania and then into Northern Rhodesia in an attempt to evade potential attackers. As the plane approached Ndola, it mysteriously went radio silent, and the reasons for this remain unclear.

According to the guide, witnesses claimed the plane made no less than three attempts to approach the runway. Some believe this was because the runway lights had been turned off, making it difficult for the pilot to see where to safely land. Others reported seeing a second plane approach the DC6, with some witnesses claiming they observed flashes resembling gunfire coming from this second aircraft.

Björkdahl noted that witnesses also described suspicious activities by Northern Rhodesian security forces on the morning of the crash. Several recalled that soldiers and police had already cordoned off the crash site hours before it was officially declared found.

“There was a group of white soldiers carrying a body … I heard people saying there was a man who was found alive and should be taken to the hospital. Nobody was allowed to stay there,” said Mbewe, raising serious questions about the fate of Harold Julian, the sole survivor of the crash who later died in a poorly equipped local hospital.

Dr Mark Lowenthal, who treated Julian, later expressed deep regret, stating, “I look upon the episode as having been one of my most egregious professional failures” (Björkdahl).

Despite the absence of a definitive conclusion regarding who was behind Hammarskjöld’s death, Björkdahl’s investigation suggests a motive. “It’s clear there were a lot of circumstances pointing to possible involvement by Western powers. The motive was there — the threat to the West’s interests in Congo’s huge mineral deposits,” Björkdahl remarked. Hammarskjöld’s unwavering commitment to the UN Charter and international law placed him at odds with the interests of powerful nations, making him a target during a time of intense geopolitical struggle.

But beyond being a compelling historical narrative, why is this story relevant to my current research into the effect of critical minerals mining on human rights?

Hammarskjöld’s fatal dedication to supporting Congolese sovereignty in the face of resistance from those threatened by the loss of control over the region’s resources finds a troubling parallel in the present-day conflicts in the eastern DRC. These conflicts are similarly fuelled by the involvement of foreign actors with vested interests in the region’s wealth. Sixty-three years after Hammarskjöld’s death, Western nations and transnational corporations continue to be deeply implicated in the exploitation of the DRC’s mineral wealth, often at the severe expense of local populations.

These actors, through both direct and indirect means, perpetuate instability to maintain access to valuable resources such as cobalt, nickel and coltan — minerals critical to the “just” transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy. The rhetoric surrounding the energy transition often portrays it as an unproblematic solution to the climate crisis, conveniently overlooking the ongoing violence, displacement and poverty experienced by Congolese (and other African) citizens as their nations’ wealth is syphoned off for the benefit of the Global North. This historical context underscores the persistent crises that arise when foreign powers prioritise their economic gains over the sovereignty and well-being of African nations.

Charlize Tomaselli is a senior researcher at the Alternative Information and Development Centre in the Alternatives to Extractivism and Climate Change Programme.