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The Arctic is popular. Writing about the (geo)political dynamics and challenges in the Arctic region continues to attract journalists, scholars and students alike. However, there are some misconceptions that keep appearing around Arctic geopolitics, regardless of how much research is published that aims at countering false narratives, dispelling myths or showcasing nuance.
This short article discusses some of the analytical pitfalls that continue to occur in Arctic debates. Bear in mind that this concerns unpacking geopolitics – i.e. the chance of, or ongoing, disputes and conflicts between states over issues in, or related to, the Arctic. Other Arctic issues—ranging from climate change adaptation to local resource development—have their own sets of pitfalls and misconceptions.
There are no disputes over “territory”
Let us start with the most obvious. No territorial disputes remain in the Arctic region. No land border between any of the eight Arctic states is in dispute. No Arctic state is currently claiming another Arctic state’s territory for historic reasons or to protect an ethnic minority. Furthermore, no island is in dispute (the last minor island dispute was settled between Canada and the Kingdom of Denmark in 2022).
The closest situations to a dispute over sovereignty concern the legal status of shipping through Canadian and Russian territorial waters and domestic discussions in some Arctic countries about indigenous/local rights and land ownership.
At sea, 7 out of 8 maritime boundaries are agreed. Of these, only one remains: between Canada and the United States in the Beaufort Sea. This is in stark contrast to other maritime domains around the world encircled by states (the Mediterranean, the South China Sea and the Caribbean).
However, a dispute is likely to emerge over extended continental shelves in the Arctic. This issue might lead to a diplomatic spat and even be used in a larger power game between Russia and the West. It is not, despite what some argue, likely to be a primary driver of conflict between any of the Arctic states. Crucially, it is also important to note that the seabed is not the same as “territory”.
There are indeed other disputes in the Arctic relating to sovereign rights at sea over who gets what share of living marine resources; where to delineate or delimit maritime space (although these are limited in scope); and over what rules apply along transarctic shipping lanes as well as in the Fisheries Protection Zone around Svalbard. But these are not disputes over territory or sovereignty, and it helps to be clear exactly what type of dispute you are talking about, as they tend to rely on rather different legal, economic and political rationales and dynamics.
Number of icebreakers tells you little
Arctic-related stories love to count how many icebreakers the Arctic countries have. This is often done to showcase how Russia is dominating in the Arctic and the USA is a laggard. The main problem here is that icebreakers are contextual.
A range of different factors explain why Russia has the number of icebreakers it has: the size of its Arctic coastline, economic activity in that area, and ice conditions (which is why you have a breaker-of-ice in the first place). This is beside the intra-institutional set-ups of each Arctic coastal state concerning coast guard / navy tasks and whether icebreakers are even useful for the latter.
Do not get me wrong. There is no doubt that the USA is in need of more icebreakers. It currently has only two operational ones: the USCGC Healy from 1999 and the USCGC Polar Star from 1976. Moreover, icebreakers are important for a number of reasons, including their ability to support ship traffic, keep harbours open in wintertime, and conduct research at high latitudes.
However, icebreakers are not the ultimate sign of strength or military power in the Arctic. Other parameters, such as military expenditure, presence and capabilities (beyond breaking ice), are better suited.
In most instances, icebreakers are not even operated by the various Arctic countries’ armed forces. Why does Finland have four times as many as the USA when it is not even an Arctic coastal state? Because the country needs to break ice in the Gulf of Bothnia and is attempting to reap commercial benefits from icebreaking services.
As such, the numbers of icebreakers do not demonstrate the Russian Arctic threat—there are other things that are more relevant for that, ranging from military capacities (like subsea or surface naval vessels, or airborne capabilities) to patterns of behaviour (like military exercises, troop posture, statements).
Be specific about what resources and where
Resources undoubtedly play a role in Arctic (geo)politics, but they come in many shapes and colours and are located in various Arctic geographies. There are a lot of resources in the Arctic: discovered and undiscovered, accessible and inaccessible, commercially viable and non-viable. Does this mean that the Arctic is “resource-rich”? Probably no more than the Mediterranean, the South China Sea, or the middle of the Pacific.
First, which resources are we talking about? Where? There is a difference between gas fields located in the Norwegian part of the Barents Sea and oil wells in Norman Wells in the Canadian Northwest Territories, or between aquaculture facilities off the coast of Iceland and snow crab catching off the coast of Alaska. The Arctic varies widely when it comes to resource availability, potential and extraction.
Second, is the resource commercially interesting, even relevant, over the next two or three decades—on a global scale? For what purpose is the resource highlighted in connection to geopolitics? Too often the Arctic resource potential is used to underscore other things, such as political attention from non-Arctic Actors (read China) or military tension in the region.
However, it is seldom possible to link military tension with Arctic resource extraction and/or potential. Even Chinese interest in Arctic resources tends to be specific in terms of both where and what, beyond just a general resource interest.
Governance means more than the Arctic Council
On May 11 this year, Norway took over the chair of the Arctic Council as Russia passed the reins after two years (2021–2023) of what must be said to be a rather bleak chairmanship period. In March 2022, when the other seven Arctic states decided to pause cooperation with Russia, the Arctic Council was quickly declared dead and buried. Even the future of Arctic governance was questioned. Alas, reality is more complex.
Cooperation with Russia has remained on single low-level issues for those countries that share a border or boundary with the country, namely, Finland, Norway and the USA in particular. In addition, the Arctic Council has survived and will likely continue to do so. However, Arctic governance does not stand or fall within the Arctic Council.
Governance is a term used to describe how to deal with problems, in this instance in an Arctic context. Most governance structures are found at the national level, which at the end of the day sets the rules and regulations for what can be done in the various Arctic territories. Some governance problems, such as the need for a moratorium on fisheries in the Central Arctic Ocean, are indeed raised to the international level, either because a joint solution is needed to effectively manage or deal with a problem or because the countries have a shared interest in collaborating and can thus reap additional benefits through scale and spillover effects.
In this regard, the Arctic Council plays an important but essentially a minor role. First and foremost, it provides scientific advice and reports through its different working groups, led by experts from the Arctic countries and the six indigenous representations (and some non-Arctic representatives too). Second, the Arctic Council and its ministerial meetings every second year act as a lightning rod for attention to Arctic international relations. The Arctic states have themselves promoted this forum as the primary arena for Arctic issues because it helped convey the message of a peaceful, stable and cooperative Arctic region.
However, if one examines governance in the Arctic, institutions like the UN Law of the Sea, the Polar Code, the EU, or even bilateral agreements between Arctic states on coast guard cooperation, fisheries management, and cultural and educational exchange and cooperation tend to be much more impactful and far-reaching in terms of dealing with Arctic-specific problems. That does not mean the Arctic Council is irrelevant, just that it is one—albeit much talked about—piece in a larger Arctic governance puzzle.
Specify what role climate change / ice melting plays
Finally, the melting elephant in the Arctic room is always climate change. Climate change is, of course, the background of many Arctic-related stories. This is also the case in the social sciences. However, does ice melting, for example, play a causal role in what we write about? Is ice melting a factor behind Russia’s military buildup? Is ice melting a factor leading to concerns about resource governance? Is ice melting prompting Chinese interests?
Too often, climate change and its various Arctic effects are used to highlight the relevance and importance of the region, but the actual causal linkages with the object of study are not clearly spelled out. In many instances, climate change is—at best—a contextual factor with little or no direct bearing on the question at hand, at least when we examine geopolitics and (military) security relations in the Arctic.
To put it in a different way, would a reversal of the melting of Arctic sea ice lead to a reduction in Russia’s military investments? Would we see fewer military exercises in the North Atlantic and/or North Pacific? Would China be less eager to invest in LNG facilities? Would the EU be less interested in developing a role in the region?
The answer to these questions is not an unconditional “no”, but how we use climate change and particularly ice melting as a contextual or causal factor is often not made clear. In many instances, although climate change is obviously important in the Arctic, it is not the primary driver of many of the geopolitical tensions we see emerging.
So what?
There are a range of issues in the Arctic that need to be explored and explained through the lenses of “geopolitics” (i.e. a focus on state rivalry related to specific geographic factors). Increased cooperation between China and Russia in certain parts of the Arctic on certain tasks needs to be unpacked. The changes Swedish and Finnish NATO membership will lead to in terms of NATO defence planning and security relations in Fennoscandia need to be understood. How states are responding to transboundary resource management pressures in the Arctic linked to climate change also needs to be examined.
However, when examining these issues, we could question whether it even makes sense to describe the Arctic as one region where dynamics, interests and agency overlap. They often do not. Instead, “Arctic geopolitics” is the overarching lens one could take to frame specific Arctic issues that tend to not involve the whole circumpolar area but that rather materialise in sub-divisions, such as the Barents Sea or the Bering Sea/Strait.
The point of this piece is thus simple: when we attempt to describe and explain Arctic geopolitics, accuracy, nuance and complexity must prevail. This applies whether the focus is on current (non-territorial) disputes, the need for icebreaking or naval capacities, the Arctic’s resource potential, the role of the Arctic Council or how climate change impacts geopolitics. The devil (or, in this case, is it Santa?) is, after all, in the details.
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