Recently, while I was looking at our most-viewed articles on Rask, Fortescue Ltd (ASX: FMG) popped up a lot – maybe too much.
As a new investor, who really had only heard of mining giants like BHP Group Ltd (ASX: BHP) and Rio Tinto Ltd (ASX: RIO), I wanted to see what all the hype was about.
When I asked around, I began to hear Fortescue being described as a “green” mining company.
Wait, what?!
Is this a case of my cat trying to woof?
Let’s break it down, from the basics for those new to the Fortescue frenzy, and explore why everyone (especially my boomer dad) can’t stop talking about it.
From dust to dividends: the Fortescue origin story
Founded in 2003 by Andrew “Twiggy” Forrest, Fortescue started as a tiny Western Australian mining explorer scraping around the Pilbara desert. Fast forward to now, and it’s one of the world’s largest iron ore producers. Its first mine, Cloudbreak, launched in 2007, followed by a flurry of others – like Christmas Creek, Solomon, and Eliwana – ramping up production to over 180 million tonnes per year, putting Fortescue in the same conversations as BHP and Rio Tinto.
Fortescue became a dividend darling during iron ore booms, with yields peaking at 18% in 2021. It boasts some of the highest total shareholder returns on the ASX, making it a fixture in income-hungry portfolios. In fact, at one point in 2024, it topped the list of favourite ASX 200 stocks among baby boomers.
That’s right – Fortescue has become boomer catnip (a term aptly phrased by one of my colleagues – check out his work here).
Fortescue isn’t content just flipping red dirt – it now wants to be seen as a clean energy trailblazer, what a plot twist.
Twiggy Forrest: iron ore baron, green crusader or alpaca farmer?
Fortescue’s founder, “Twiggy” Forrest, is one of Australia’s richest people – a colourful character with a side quest in alpaca farming (seriously). He’s part mining magnate, part philanthropist, part climate warrior – and depending on who you ask, part megalomaniac.
While Twiggy stepped away from daily operations at Fortescue in 2011, he reclaimed the Executive Chairman title in 2022 to steer Fortescue’s green energy push. He even went back to university to earn a PhD in marine science, becoming “Dr Forrest” (what a name for the founder of a massive mining empire right?). Twiggy is a big personality with big ambitions – but not without big drama.
In 2023, a litany of senior executives abruptly resigned, raising eyebrows about Twiggy’s management approach and his pivot to green energy. Within the space of a year, Fortescue lost its CEO, CFO, and multiple division heads – six senior executives gone in less than 12 months.
Officially, reasons given were along the lines of “not the right fit” or “interests not aligned.” Unofficially, the chatter was that Twiggy’s relentless drive to transform an iron ore miner into a clean energy player didn’t sit well with everyone.
On the personal front, Twiggy paints himself as a man on a mission. He and his now ex-wife were the first Aussie billionaires to pledge half their wealth to charity. Through the Minderoo Foundation (Australia’s largest philanthropic vehicle, which he bankrolled with an endowment over $9 billion), Twiggy has poured money into causes from climate change and ocean conservation to ending modern slavery and funding Indigenous initiatives.
He likes to say he’ll give away all his wealth in his lifetime. Of course, cynics might quip that it doesn’t hurt to have a $9bn foundation for tax and legacy purposes – but hey, at least the money is going somewhere good. Twiggy’s Minderoo has tackled everything from bushfire recovery to COVID research.
Here’s the eyebrow-raiser, though: while Twiggy talks a big game on Indigenous empowerment, Fortescue has had serious run-ins with traditional owners. Most notably, the Yindjibarndi people of the Pilbara battled Fortescue for years over compensation for mining on their land. Fortescue lost a native title court case in 2017 (and subsequent appeals) that confirmed the Yindjibarndi’s exclusive rights, but then refused to sign a royalty deal.
Twiggy argued that handing over cash would just create “alcohol disasters” in the community – prompting outrage and a $500 million compensation claim against Fortescue in Federal Court. Yindjibarndi leaders called his stance “disingenuous,” pointing out the real issue is colonial legacy and disadvantage, not royalties.
This contradiction – championing Indigenous opportunities on one hand, while battling an Indigenous group in court on the other – pretty much sums up the complexity. Twiggy genuinely wants to change the world (and will tell climate-denying politicians to “f*** off”), but he’s also a ruthless businessman who doesn’t shy from playing hardball.
Going green: from iron ore to hydrogen
In 2020, Twiggy launched Fortescue Future Industries (FFI) to lead a clean energy pivot. The goal? Produce 15 million tonnes of green hydrogen a year by 2030 – half the world’s current hydrogen output. This has got industry observers either incredibly excited or rolling their eyes.
By 2023, FFI was folded back into Fortescue, and “Metals Group” was dropped from the name. This wasn’t a side hustle – green was now core to Fortescue’s identity. Twiggy pledged “Real Zero” emissions by 2030 – no offsets, just pure decarbonisation.
And Twiggy really walked the walk. In late 2024, Fortescue inked a US$2.8 billion deal to replace the majority of its diesel-guzzling mining fleet with electric haul trucks, loaders, excavators and dozers. Fortescue says it burned through 631 million litres of diesel in FY2022 – so cutting that to zero in just a few years is a Herculean task, but they insist it’s doable. They’ve also begun building a 190 MW solar farm at Cloudbreak mine as part of a planned renewables resourcing to power their sites.
In April 2025 Fortescue announced the Cloudbreak solar project had commenced construction, aiming to slash 125 million litres of diesel usage annually once it’s running. They’re even testing a battery-powered electric train (“Infinity Train”) and ammonia-fuelled ships in pursuit of zero-carbon mining. These are all bold moves. But not without cost. Leadership upheavals raised concerns about strategy drift and financial discipline. Analysts questioned if Fortescue’s famed tight purse strings were loosening.
There’s also the awkward contradiction of an iron ore miner preaching climate action. Fortescue makes its billions selling iron ore to make steel – a process that, globally, emits heaps of CO₂. Skeptics might snicker that calling itself a “green” company is like greenwashing on steroids, but Fortescue counters that someone has to produce the iron, so it may as well be done the cleanest way possible. Twiggy is betting big on a multi-trillion-dollar green economy. He’s framed Fortescue as a first mover in decarbonising heavy industry – and making money from it.
The Fortescue zoo: leadership and rugby players
After 2023’s exodus, Fortescue now has two CEOs: Dino Otranto (mining) and Agustín Pichot (green energy). Yes, that Pichot – the former Argentine rugby captain. Twiggy said he brings passion and leadership to the role, if not a traditional mining résumé. Make of that what you will.
Twiggy, meanwhile, remains Executive Chairman, with ~36% ownership and an iron clad hold on direction. As one analyst put it, Fortescue operates with “a high degree of founder influence” – a polite way of saying it’s Twiggy’s show.
Why the hype?
You might be wondering (I know I was): Fortescue is smaller than BHP and RIO, so why does it generate so much chatter? The short answer is narrative and returns. Fortescue’s story is the ultimate Aussie underdog tale – Twiggy started it to challenge the duopoly of BHP and Rio in iron ore, and he actually pulled it off. That journey from scrappy exploration company to a global leader in iron ore is legendary. Investors who bought in early and held have seen life-changing gains, and even latecomers enjoyed those monster dividends in recent years. So Fortescue has a bit of a cult following.
It doesn’t hurt that Twiggy is constantly in the news – whether it’s unveiling a new hydrogen project, buying a $20 million stake in a salmon farm (truly), or making bold pronouncements about climate and philanthropy. He’s arguably more media-visible than the CEOs of BHP or Rio. Fortescue also tends to be more volatile – its fortunes tied to iron ore price swings and now to whether its green bets pay off or not. That makes it exciting (or nerve-wracking) to follow, unlike the steadier giants.
The big balancing act
So, should you cheer for Fortescue? Depends. It’s genuinely trying to go green – investing billions in decarbonisation and partnering with First Nations suppliers. But it’s still a miner, digging up a finite resource that fuels global emissions. And Twiggy’s dominant leadership style means key-man risk is real.
Looking ahead, Fortescue is expanding its iron ore footprint (see the $254M Red Hawk Mining buy) while charging into unfamiliar clean energy territory. Hydrogen exports are slated to begin from Queensland as of last year (2024) – ambitious, but unproven.
It’s a high-stakes pivot. Fortescue wants to be both a mining cash cow and a green-tech pioneer. If it pulls it off, it could be the “Tesla of mining”.
So what the flip is Fortescue? Perhaps it’s best described as a grand experiment: a big, boomy mining outfit attempting to reinvent itself as a green energy champion – without losing the plot (or the profits) in the process. It’s one heck of a balancing act, and if it pays off, Fortescue could truly be a miner with a heart (and a fat wallet). If it fails – well, at least we got an entertaining story out of it.
