I stood outside the US Court of International Trade in lower Manhattan last Thursday, watching lawyers in wool coats shuffle past security with briefcases thick enough to stop a bullet. Inside, Rio Tinto had just fired a legal salvo at the US government. The mining giant wants its money back—tariffs it paid under a regime the Supreme Court recently declared illegal.
Rio filed its claim on March 20, four days after federal bureaucrats handed the company a prize it had chased for years: final permits for a massive copper mine in Arizona. The timing wasn’t coincidental. It revealed the delicate dance multinational corporations perform when they need Washington’s favor but also want to hold it accountable.
The lawsuit targets tariffs imposed by President Donald Trump on what he famously called “liberation day” in early 2025. Trump used the International Emergency Economic Powers Act of 1977 to justify sweeping duties on imported goods. But in February, the Supreme Court ruled he lacked that authority. The IEEPA, designed for genuine national emergencies like war or terrorism, couldn’t be stretched to cover trade disputes with allies.
“The legality of the IEEPA tariffs is no longer in dispute,” Rio stated in its court filing. The company wants a refund, plus legal costs, delivered “promptly and completely.” Rio’s tax disclosures show it paid nearly $1 billion in US tariffs during 2025. But the lawsuit isn’t chasing all of that. Some tariffs remain legally sound, particularly those on Canadian aluminum imports under Section 232 of the Trade Expansion Act. Sources familiar with the case say Rio is initially seeking around $10 million.
Six Rio subsidiaries registered in the United States filed the claim. These entities handle procurement for the company’s American operations in copper, aluminum, borates, and lithium. The complaint mirrors similar action by Orica, an Australian explosives manufacturer that became the first major firm to demand a refund with interest after the Supreme Court decision.
I spoke with a trade lawyer in Brussels who works with mining companies navigating tariff disputes. “Rio is betting the political cost is manageable,” she told me over coffee near the European Commission headquarters. “They just got Resolution Copper across the finish line. Now they’re testing whether they can win back cash without torching those relationships.”
Resolution Copper sits near Superior, Arizona, about an hour east of Phoenix. The deposit holds one of the largest untapped copper reserves in North America. Rio owns 55 percent, BHP holds the rest. The project has faced fierce opposition from the San Carlos Apache Tribe, who consider Oak Flat—directly above the planned mine—sacred ground. For a decade, bureaucratic delays and environmental reviews kept Resolution in limbo.
Then came the Trump administration’s second term. Critical minerals became a national security priority. Domestic production received rhetorical backing and promises of federal subsidies. On March 16, the US Bureau of Land Management finalized a land swap that trades Oak Flat to Rio in exchange for other parcels. It was the regulatory green light the company desperately needed.
Four days later, Rio sued the same government over tariffs. The contradiction is stark but not unusual in international affairs. Corporations operate across multiple policy arenas simultaneously. They lobby for permits while litigating over taxes. They praise one agency while suing another.
A senior economist at the International Monetary Fund told me tariff refunds could ripple across industries. “If Rio succeeds, you’ll see a flood of claims,” he said during a phone interview from Washington. “Companies have been paying these duties for months. The aggregate numbers could exceed several billion dollars.”
The Supreme Court’s February ruling created legal chaos for importers and exporters. Goods entered the country under tariffs now deemed unconstitutional. Companies paid duties they legally didn’t owe. The Treasury Department has offered little guidance on refunds, leaving firms to pursue individual lawsuits.
Rio’s position in Washington just got more complicated for another reason. The company announced last week it might quit the National Mining Association, a powerful lobby group that helped shepherd Resolution through the permit process. Rio cited “significant changes” needed in the NMA’s stance on climate and energy policy.
The association refuses to endorse the 2015 Paris climate agreement and advocates for taxpayer subsidies for thermal coal miners. Rio, which has pledged net-zero emissions by 2050, called the gap between its position and the NMA’s “significant.” The company increased its engagement with the group, even securing board representation, hoping to shift its positions. That effort appears to have failed.
“Although there are many areas of agreement on issues such as mining law reform, safety and public land management, and the Resolution Copper project, there is a significant departure on climate and energy policy positions,” Rio stated in its latest industry association membership report.
Walking away from the NMA means losing a key ally in Washington. But staying risks Rio’s credibility with investors and governments in Europe and Australia who demand stronger climate action. It’s another tightrope the company must walk.
Back at the courthouse, I thought about how foreign policy and corporate strategy blur in moments like this. Rio needs the US government for permits, subsidies, and access to the world’s largest consumer market. But it also needs to recover money paid under an illegal tariff scheme. It wants political favor and legal accountability at the same time.
A former US Trade Representative official I reached by phone wasn’t surprised. “This is how the game works now,” he said. “Companies are sophisticated. They compartmentalize relationships. The people negotiating Resolution aren’t the same ones filing tariff lawsuits.”
The outcome of Rio’s case will likely take months, possibly years. The Court of International Trade moves slowly. Meanwhile, Resolution Copper advances toward construction. The Apache Tribe continues its opposition through separate legal channels. And other companies watch closely, calculating whether to file their own refund claims.
The tariff dispute reveals a deeper tension in how democracies balance rule of law with executive power. Trump stretched statutory authority beyond its intended limits. The Supreme Court said no. Now companies want restitution. It’s messy, public, and entirely predictable in a system where courts check presidential overreach.
