The phrase "copper mine" implies that the main material being extracted is copper. But whereas the historic mines of the early 20th and 19th centuries — and even Native cultures as far back as 5000 years — were extracting native copper, with a purity of 90% and higher, Copperwood's ore grade would be a mere 1.45%, meaning that 98.55% of all extracted material would not be copper, but waste.
If 99% of what you make are hats and only 1% is shoes, then no matter how proud you might be of your precious shoes, you would best be described as a hat maker. And if copper is a mere 1.45% of what your mine produces and the rest is waste — containing mercury, arsenic, cadmium, and led, comprising 30+ million tons in total, to be stored in perpetuity, visible from the State Park and the North Country Trail, on topography sloping towards Lake Superior — then the operation would most accurately be described as a waste mine.
Copperwood contrasts with historic mines on another important point, too. Whereas early industrial mines employed tens of thousands of people, Copperwood is projecting only 380, and even this number is likely to be inflated (consider that Eagle Mine in Marquette County employs only around 100 direct mining employees).
Thus, we see that there are major discrepancies between the nostalgic memory of "the good old days" compared to the reality of what is being proposed. While the toxic waste produced from mining is skyrocketing, the economic pay-off is exhibit greatly diminished returns.
Zooming out, Copperwood represents the very worst perpetuation of the Upper Peninsula's marginal status as a resource colony — that is, a resource-rich area for outside companies to set up boom-and-bust operations, export the natural and financial wealth hundreds of miles away, then board up shop to leave locals to deal with the void in the economy and the devastation of the ecology.