The Frigid Frontier: How Have Arctic Politics Evolved Since 2010?

Alexandra Paul, Print Assistant Editor

December 28, 2021

If I were to ask what issues and countries come to mind when I say “the Arctic,” a list would likely include climate change, scientific expeditions, Canada, Norway and Russia, among others. But this is much more representative of Arctic affairs in 2010 than 2021. Instead, some of the major themes and players today are economics, militarization, sovereignty, China and the European Union. The Arctic Council remains the foremost organization interested in Arctic issues, but its founding and apolitical mission of dedication to scientific exploits in the post-Cold War era doesn’t resonate with the current reality. Today’s major headlines revolve around Britain extending Canada an offer of nuclear-powered submarines for cold weather military training, Russian hostilities towards Norway for sailing a warship to Svalbard, and China’s self-declared status as a near-Arctic state and its creation of a Polar Silk Road initiative. More than ever before, the Arctic is an economic and military duelling ground between some of the world’s most powerful countries, while earlier concerns of climate change have become something of a backdrop.

So, how did we get from the Arctic Council-led climate change cooperation of 2010 to the rising tensions and power demonstrations of 2021? Simply put, the Arctic region’s economic prospects have changed alongside the landscape, with melting ice giving way to new, shorter shipping routes. This has created an opportunity for a manufacturing powerhouse like China to assert itself into Arctic affairs without necessarily having the territorial proximity to claim concern. It’s also allowed several countries and multinational organizations to challenge Canada’s sovereignty over the Northwest Passage. The financial incentive for states to undermine one another in the north is greater than at the beginning of the last decade, and the ensuing scramble to profit is driving tensions higher than we have ever experienced.

The most important international body in the Arctic is, of course, the Arctic Council, established in 1996 by Norway, Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, Russia, Canada, and the U.S. to increase cooperation after the end of the Cold War. In 2010, its primary focus was conducting collaborative scientific assessments on the effects of climate change. In fact, the Council was adamant that it would not involve itself in any treaty issues. However, this image of 8 countries harmoniously operating in the North Pole has all but melted away with the ice caps. Instead, much of Arctic politics consists of in-fighting and deal-making between these countries and the added observer states. The threat of climate change is doubtlessly still the biggest challenge facing humanity, but nevertheless states have become fixated on the trade prizes to be won, even going so far as to subvert their usual style of international politics to get them.

While Canada has crafted a reputation as the quiet peacekeeping middle power on the international stage, the issue of its sovereignty over the Northwest Passage has proven to be a pressure point. In June, the Chinese sailor Zhai Mo embarked on an expedition to circumnavigate the Arctic Ocean. By mid-September he was preparing to enter the Northwest Passage but did not because he was informed Canada banned pleasure crafts from its northmost waters to protect communities vulnerable to COVID-19 and requires 60 days’ notice to grant entry to some. Zhai had not given sufficient warning, causing him to reroute his journey southward to Panama. While China has remained wary of taking a firm stance on the issue of the Passage as Canadian or international waters, it showed no such reservedness with its reaction to the conflict. Chinese state media characterized his halting as illegal, a significantly more aggressive position and one shared by other parties interested in using Arctic trade routes (for example, the U.S. and the E.U.).

Shortly thereafter, news emerged that Britain has approached Canada in the hopes of forming something of an Arctic alliance, offering to join in cold weather exercises and bring some of its advanced military technology, including the much-needed nuclear-powered submarines. While Canada has typically been averse to allowing any state, even close allies, into its Arctic territory, this incident with China may hold some sway. Canada might also be more inclined to welcome Britain after the sudden appearance of 3 ultra-quiet nuclear submarines belonging to a common adversary, Russia, in March. Partnering with the UK to reassert its authority over the Northwest Passage despite any Chinese, European or American opposition would be a crack in Canada’s peacekeeper façade, but as the dynamics of the Arctic become increasingly oppositional, countries may well find themselves in need of a new, more aggressive policy.

If our 8 Arctic Council members are no longer holding hands, they are certainly clenching their fists and glancing over their shoulders frequently. Allyships that have strong histories outside of the Arctic erode as powerhouses clamber to benefit from the economic and political opportunities presented by climate change. The biggest change in Arctic politics in the last decade has been the emergence of outright challenges to the previous collective mindset. While the Council itself may not change practically and remain as politically dispassionate as it was in 2010, the environment in which it exists has shifted dramatically. The future of the Arctic is not merely scientists giving the world warnings rarely heeded or Indigenous communities fighting to be heard but will include cargo ships and nuclear submarines passing them by in clear defiance. States will continue to maneuver to undermine and outwit each other, reflecting a true deterioration in international collaboration in the post-Cold War era. Ironically, this frontier is colder than that rivalry ever was.