Everything that defines this century—from a hypersonic missile to a blender—has a chip at its core. And though they may weigh less than a strand of hair, chips tilt the board of global geopolitics. Yet no country makes them end-to-end, and none can do without them. This interdependence, once hailed as a technical virtue, now reveals its deepest flaw. Because chips aren’t just technology —they’re geography, diplomacy, national security, and power. And in this landscape, the question isn’t who competes, but who dictates the order.

Before it ever reaches a device, a chip passes through four hands: the countries that extract its materials, and those that design it, manufacture it, test it and package it.

It all starts underground. According to the U.S. Geological Survey, China produces nearly 86% of the silicon, gallium, and germanium that form the chip body, while Ukraine provides 70% of the neon gas used to etch circuits with light. Added to this are minerals essential to electrical conduction and internal architecture —arsenic, antimony, boron, cobalt, copper, phosphorus, tantalum, and tungsten— sourced primarily in Brazil, Congo, Peru, Turkey, and China itself.

But extraction isn’t invention. No chip comes out of the ground fully formed. First, there’s an idea, then a design. That happens far from the mines, in dust-free, temperature-controlled offices, where companies like Nvidia, Apple, AMD, and Qualcomm imagine the architecture of each circuit. At this stage, leadership is clear: U.S. firms design over half of the world’s chips, followed —at a distance— by South Korean, Taiwanese, and Japanese companies, according to Statista.

With design and materials in place, power shifts. Taiwan —almost entirely thanks to TSMC— produces around 70% of the world’s chips, according to Boston Consulting Group, Counterpoint Research, and World Population Review. South Korea follows with 13%, driven by Samsung. China and the U.S. each account for roughly 6%.

But in the most advanced processes —chips smaller than 10 nanometers, vital to AI and defense— the split is tighter: Taiwan makes 60%, the U.S. 14%, and South Korea 12%. On the other hand, China is gaining ground in simpler, more common chips, producing 36%, just behind Taiwan’s 44%. Yet, all this relies on scarcer components: the extreme ultraviolet lithography machines made only by ASML in the Netherlands, and the ultra-pure chemicals that only Japan can produce at scale.

Once manufactured, chips must be assembled, tested, and packaged before reaching a device. This final step is also fragmented. Over half of this global market—known as OSAT—is led by Taiwanese companies, according to TrendForce. China, South Korea, the U.S., the Philippines, Malaysia, and Vietnam round out the key players. And while no country dominates entirely, each is critical.

However, if no country makes an entire chip alone and all depend on one another to do so, how far are we from collapse? Fewer than 15 countries control the critical links in the chain, but no more than five can make decisions that bring the whole system to a halt.

The answer has already begun to reveal itself: first came the pandemic, which shut down factories; then the war in Ukraine, which cut neon gas supplies; followed by restrictions from the United States, Japan, and the Netherlands on key machinery for China, which responded by limiting exports of gallium and germanium; the Taiwan Strait —through which more than 90% of advanced chips pass— remains under constant threat; and now, Israel’s offensive in Palestine adds instability to a region critical for testing and manufacturing.

Each event doesn’t just strain the system —it pushes it to the edge. But that fragility isn’t new; it’s the symptom of a deeper shift.

Over the past three decades, chip production moved from the Atlantic to the Pacific. In 1990, Europe and the U.S. made more than three-quarters of the world’s semiconductors. Today, they make less than a third. In their place, Asia consolidated its dominance: Taiwan and South Korea rose on solid technological foundations; China —more volatile— surged in volume; and Japan held its ground, though no longer at the top.

Yet, a new map is emerging in the shadow of these giants. Countries with no historic weight are gaining ground in key segments. Vietnam, Malaysia, and the Philippines are building strength in testing and packaging. India, with strong state backing, is pushing to move from design to silicon. And in Africa, Congo and Rwanda safeguard minerals no one else can supply.

Latin America also stands out —not for what it designs, but for what it provides. Brazil and Peru concentrate on key minerals like tantalum, phosphorus, copper, boron, and arsenic. Mexico, meanwhile, is evolving as a logistical and assembly hub.

According to the U.S. Geological Survey and World Population Review, the region supplies around 18% of the minerals essential to chipmaking but hosts only 2% of related plants. That imbalance is beginning to shift. In countries like Mexico and Brazil —where the tech industry accounts for just 1–2% of industrial inventory, according to SiiLA— change is already underway.

Recently, Foxconn announced a new plant in Mexico focused on the GB200 chip, designed for AI servers. In Brazil, Zilia Technologies committed 650 million reais —about $120 million— to expand chip production, while the Senate passed a national semiconductor program aiming to position the country as a key player in testing and packaging.

These are not isolated events. In the past five years, Mexico has doubled its number of tech tenants in industrial real estate, and Brazil has seen growth of over 20%, according to SiiLA. But growth alone isn’t enough. More space, capital, or tenants doesn’t mean a new role.

Latin America may be part of the chain, but it still lacks a seat at the table. It produces what others process, transports what others assemble, and offers land without steering the course. And while its participation is growing, maps aren’t redrawn with presence alone —they require power.

So, the question isn’t whether the region can join the tech race but on what terms: as a functional supplier or a sovereign actor. The risk is clear. If its industrial infrastructure doesn’t evolve as fast as its ambition —if it doesn’t turn abundance into a strategic position— it will remain caught between two fires: essential, yet disposable.

Because in the geopolitics of chips, the edge doesn’t lie in what’s extracted, but in what’s controlled, and the winner isn’t the one who produces the most —it’s the one who can make the rest stop.

To learn more about the performance of the industrial market in Latin America and its role in this new map of power, visit SiiLA REsource or write to us at contacto@siila.com.mx.