On a warm April 1st day last year, Budee Khekhee, head of local non-profit The Power of Unity for the Sake of Our Homeland, led a team into the Gobi Desert to investigate reports of a mysterious illness causing the death of wild and domestic animals, which he obtained from the local herders. A former resident who’d assisted his father’s veterinary work, Budee knew the terrain and knew authorities had ignored previous alarms.
In Zamyn Ud, they spotted numerous white-tailed gazelles lying on the ground, unable to get up, and twitching their legs convulsively. The activists livestreamed their discovery. “My heart was overwhelmed with despair,” Budee later testified. “I realized I couldn’t just abandon them here to die.”
Suspecting that the epidemic was caused by French uranium company Orano’s in-situ leach operations, he loaded four gazelles aboard a truck and drove to the corporation’s clinic gate, broadcasting on Facebook. Orano had built and was operating a veterinary clinic in the mining area. Budee didn’t trust them a lot, but he hoped that the staff would assist in rescuing the animals. Those hopes were dashed when, after two hours of standing outside the locked clinic doors, no one appeared, and the animals died. Left with little choice, the activists dissected the gazelles’ bodies and took tissue samples for independent analysis. They livestreamed their actions to Facebook.
For many Mongolian herders, resource neocolonialism is not an abstract concept. They have resulted in tangible losses, illness, and deaths. Descendants of the Mongol Empire now face uranium mining invaders. After the Soviets departed—leaving behind a legacy of toxic mining—the “clean” French uranium industry arrived, reproducing similar patterns of corruption while poisoning the land. At the same time, these colonialists have participated in the persecution of environmental activists.
Should they be held accountable before domestic and international communities?
The Revenge
In official reports, human rights defenders often refer to the persecution of activists as “unjust” or “disproportional punishment.” However, what happened in the case of the Mongolian herders was closer to pure revenge. Unidentified individuals made police reports accusing Khekhee of illegal hunting. He was subjected to repeated questioning for several months after the criminal investigation began.
The local prosecutor’s office then reclassified the matter as an administrative offense. The state’s Environmental Protection Office determined that Khekhee illegally pursued and killed four gazelles. They penalized him $1,200, a substantial sum for an average Mongolian. His July appeal was denied in full in September, but the court of first instance postponed the sentence for three months, thereby conceding that the case lacked merit.
Neither the investigation nor the court determined why Budee Khekhee allegedly needed to kill the gazelles. However, a local journalist discovered the “motive,” writing in August 2025 that it was done “to mislead the public about the consequences of uranium mining by the joint Mongolian-French enterprise ‘Badrakh Energy’ LLC.”
Prosecution for Independent Dosimetry
The unexplained illnesses and deaths of animals, a desert veterinary clinic run by a uranium mining corporation, and its attempts to ignore the troubling facts are perplexing. Especially when combined with the absurd accusation of poaching directed at an environmental activist whose action was widely livestreamed. When connected to other similar events, a pattern emerges.
In mid-August 2025, the same non-profit invited Russian nuclear physicist Andrey Ozharovskiy to conduct dosimetry measurements. Their focus on radioactive pollution was encouraged by groundwater assessments, which had revealed high uranium and arsenic levels in the area. Ozharovskiy, who had extensive experience in identifying radioactive sources, agreed to come. He entered Mongolia legally with his dosimetry and spectrometry equipment for “business purposes.”
On August 15–17, activists drove him along dirt roads in the Gobi Desert to Orano’s pilot ISL uranium extraction wells, where locals reported trucks carrying pregnant solution or liquid waste. It didn’t take the Russian expert long to discover three dried-up puddles emitting gamma radiation 20-50 times above background levels. Spectrometry identified uranium decay products—radium-226, bismuth-214, and lead-214, which, according to Ozharovskiy, was consistent with mining spills rather than natural radiation. The activists published their finding on social media, and this is how the Mongolian authorities learned about the expedition.
The group later traveled across Mongolia along similar dirt roads to Maradai. On August 19, while measuring radiation near abandoned Soviet mining sites, the group was detained by a border officer and some people in plain clothes. According to the activists, the authorities used drones to spot them in the desert. After spending a day or two in several offices, Ozharovskiy was transferred to the Main Intelligence Directorate in Ulaanbaatar. There, after being questioned, he was told that he was suspected of espionage and immigration violations.
Although the authorities released Ozharovskiy, they took his passport so that he couldn’t leave the country. A few days later he was taken again, forced to admit administrative violations, including using unregistered dosimetry devices, and to pay a fine. Then they brought him to the border with Russia and expelled him without his belongings but with a 10-year entry ban. The local activists, meanwhile, have spoken of intimidation, police reporting requirements, smartphone searches, and non-disclosure agreements.
In the same days the Mongolian Nuclear Regulatory Commission issued a formal statement, where accused Ozharovskiy of spreading false information about radiation background. Some media labeled the activists foreign agents undermining Franco-Mongolian projects in Russia’s interest.
A System That Favors Abuse and Distrust
Mongolian law prohibits radiation measurements using devices that haven’t been registered with the country’s Nuclear Regulatory Commission. After his first detention, Ozharovskiy donated some of his measuring devices to the non-profit. Activists brought them to the NRC but were denied certification with no clear explanation. The only reason provided, though invalid, was that the devices belonged to a Russian citizen.
The activists explained why they hadn’t registered the devices beforehand: they didn’t want authorities to know about their survey in advance. “If they knew about the devices, they wouldn’t let us measure anyway,” one activist said. “We don’t trust them,” Khekhee added.
This distrust is entirely justified given the broader context documented by prominent human rights organizations. Mongolia has earned a reputation for cracking down on critics and human rights defenders, particularly those challenging the mining industry. Amnesty International’s 2024 report documents that criticism of authorities and mining corporations has become effectively criminalized. According to the report Our Land, these corporations commit massive environmental violations, causing significant environmental pollution and deterioration of public health, and undermining traditional Mongolian livelihoods. To attract investors, Mongolian mining lobbyists even managed to pass corporate-friendly legislation. According to Our Land, in 2006 and again in 2013–2015 they weakened environmental safeguards, reducing water protection zones and allowing mining on private and even protected lands.
Another Face of the French Republic
According to Mongolian Mining Journal, in Dornogovi Aimag, where activists have been monitoring the environment and wildlife, the French corporations Areva and Orano have been exploring and extracting uranium since 1997. They use various local joint ventures and transfer licenses from one to another. The Orano Group claims that it started its so-called pilot uranium extraction via Badrakh Energy in Zuuvch Ovoo site only in 2021.
Orano has set a stark precedent, demonstrating that even lenient mining laws are no real constraint. According to activists, the company simply ignored the required environmental impact assessment for some of its ISL mining projects in Dornogobi Aimag. Coincidentally, Orano was also bribing officials to secure mining licenses during this same period. According to Energynews, the 2015 investigation uncovered €1.275 million in suspicious payments that Orano made to secure mining licenses in Mongolia through an intermediary, Eurotradia International. In December 2024, the president of the Paris Judicial Court ordered Areva to pay €4.8 million in a pre-trial settlement for bribing a foreign public official.
The Mongolian Anti-Nuclear Movement Golomt believes that between December 2010 and May 2011, another Orano subsidiary, Kojegobi, produced approximately 2.7 tons of yellow cake via what they call “experimental extraction” using a sulfuric ISL process. Since then, rural nomads have described dead and deformed livestock, contaminated water, and rising fear. “In every household, calves were being born with terrible deformities. This had never happened before on our land,” local herders complained in a 2012 petition signed by 767 people. In one area, the number of deceased domestic animals was 2,885 in 2010—the year of the yellow cake production—compared to 14 in 2008, 8 in 2009, and 207 in 2011. The government denied the connection with radioactive pollution and blamed “naturally occurring selenium and copper.” Orano echoed this line, stating that these elements were “neither used nor produced by our activities.”
According to Khekhee, Orano did not accomplish an EIA or feasibility study before starting pilot mining operations in 2012 in Dornogovi Aimag: “No groundwater study was conducted, no documents were discussed, no safety briefings or training were provided to the local population”.
No Punishment?
Mongolia is popular among those seeking cheap uranium because it is not a party to a number of international conventions. For example, Mongolia is only just preparing to join the UNECE Aarhus Convention, which upholds the right of citizens to receive information on environmental protection and participate in relevant decision-making. The convention also obligates countries not to persecute environmental activists.
France has been a full party to the convention since 2005, which means that the corporations under French jurisdiction are subject to the county’s obligations under the Aarhus Convention.
Using this fact, human rights defenders have reported to the Aarhus Convention’s Special Rapporteur about the persecution of activists in Mongolia investigating the activities of the French company Orano. The Special Rapporteur’s mechanism allows for expedited consideration of cases. It is reportedly now investigating the facts.
Will this investigation bring transparency and accountability to the activities of French foreign corporations operating in Mongolia? Or will such key elements of democracy perish like the poisoned gazelles in the Mongolian desert?