The Economist explains

How war in Ukraine is changing the Arctic

Co-operation with Russia has collapsed—and China is ascendant

SEVEROMORSK, RUSSIA - JANUARY 10: The heavy nuclear-powered missile cruiser Pyotr Veliky is seen at the Russian Northern Fleet's base January 10, 2013 in Severomorsk, Russia. Russian President Vladimir Putin awarded the crew of the Pyotr Veliky the Nakhimov order. (Photo by Sasha Mordovets/Getty Images)

THE CHILL winds from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine have reached the Arctic. On June 29th Russia’s foreign ministry said Norway would face “retaliatory measures” for imposing sanctions that block Russian goods destined for Svalbard, an Arctic archipelago. Svalbard is part of Norway, but a treaty from 1920 gives Russia the right to exploit its natural resources, and many of the settlements there are populated by Russians. Even before this squabble, Arctic powers had already clashed over the invasion. On March 3rd, just a week after war broke out, seven of the eight permanent members of the Arctic Council, the region’s main intergovernmental organisation—all bar Russia, the current chair—said they would boycott future meetings in light of the war. The council had long sought to portray the region as peaceful and co-operative: its founding document, the Ottawa Declaration of 1996, states that it should not deal with “military security”. But the war has pitted Western signatories (America, Canada, Denmark, Finland, Iceland, Norway and Sweden) against Russia in the far north. How will the fallout affect the Arctic?

Climate change is raising the stakes. The Arctic is warming three to four times faster than the global average. Minimum sea-ice cover in 2020 was almost 2.6m square kilometres smaller than the average minimum between 1981 and 2010. The environmental consequences are grave. But there are geopolitical ramifications too. Polar sea routes are becoming more easily navigable, natural resources newly accessible and northern frontiers increasingly vulnerable. Countries outside the region are turning their attention north. China has plans for a “polar silk road” and has invested more than $90bn in Arctic infrastructure and assets.

War in Ukraine has drawn attention to the military threat Russia poses in the far north. Severomorsk, a port on the Barents Sea within the Arctic Circle, is the main base of the country’s Northern fleet, which includes nuclear-capable submarines. Remilitarisation was well under way before the war because Russia’s natural polar defence, ice, is melting away. It has built at least 475 military sites along its northern border in the past six years. War is unlikely to break out in the Arctic: the terrain is too hazardous and the rewards too slight. But it could be drawn into a wider conflict. Heeding the threat, NATO has turned its attention northwards too. In March Norway hosted NATO’s biggest Arctic military exercise in more than three decades. America is considering revamping its armed forces in Alaska. When Finland and Sweden join the alliance, all Arctic countries but Russia will be NATO members.

Co-operation between Western and Russian scientists in the region has broken down. Research on climate change is the obvious victim. Business partnerships have also soured. Russia has invested heavily in oil and gas in the Arctic, announcing $300bn of incentives for new projects in 2020. But Western companies, including BP, ExxonMobil and Shell, are pulling out. Italy has frozen its $21bn of financing for the Arctic LNG 2, an extraction project in northern Siberia. This makes way for Chinese capital. China is already pumping money into Arctic extraction. It has a 30-year contract with Russia to import gas from the Yamal fields, in the Siberian Arctic, via Power of Siberia 2, a pipeline due to be constructed between the countries. State-owned China National Petroleum Corporation has a 20% stake in Yamal LNG, a gas-extraction project; the country’s Silk Road Fund owns 10%. Other state-owned companies have also invested in Arctic LNG 2. And Russia will increasingly rely on Chinese technology to build Arctic liquefied natural gas tankers and other equipment, in place of Western firms.

Russia is wary of China’s interest in the region, where it sees itself as pre-eminent. China has no Arctic territory but its growing influence is shifting the balance of power there. The pretence that the region could stay above geopolitics has broken down, says Andreas Osthagen, of the Fridtjof Nansen Institute, near Oslo. Norway will take over the chairmanship of the Arctic Council in 2023 and Western countries will need to decide whether to proceed without Russia. The new Arctic, much like the new world order, looks set to pit NATO members against China and Russia.

More from The Economist explains:
Where will Ukraine store its grain?
How consumer drones are changing warfare
Is Kaliningrad, Russia’s exclave surrounded by EU countries, an asset or a liability?

More from The Economist explains

What are the obligations of Israel and Hamas to protect civilians?

International Humanitarian Law creates obligations—but contains numerous caveats

Why is so much of the internet’s infrastructure run by volunteers?

Malware smuggled into XZ Utils software highlights a bigger problem


The growing role of fighting robots on the ground in Ukraine

Drones already fill the skies. Now uncrewed vehicles are heading to the front lines