How America Lost the Arctic

Arctic

How America Lost the Arctic

The Arctic’s era of “high north, low tension” is over, and Washington may be underprepared for the region's shifting dynamics. Following Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Arctic cooperation ceased, allowing Moscow to pivot toward China and India, expanding supply routes and regional influence.

 

Geostrategic competition in the Arctic endures despite platitudes of “high north, low tension” in the Arctic-rim state lexicon. However, the window for ensuring collaborative, sustainable development in a strategically benign Arctic arena has closed. Washington just hasn’t realized it yet.

Russia is the Arctic’s largest legitimate stakeholder by way of geography (over 50 percent of the Arctic coastline is Russian territory). Decades of managed competition and collaborative policies protected the Arctic region from broader global politics. Despite the prickly heights of the Cold War and this sharpened period of enhanced militarization throughout the region, communication between Moscow and Washington endured.

 

In 2022, following the Russian invasion of Ukraine, the Arctic status quo was irreversibly ruptured. Those of us who cautioned against the cessation of Arctic engagement with Russia were branded Putin apologists at best and “useful idiots” at worst. Nonetheless, the Arctic Council (the region’s sole governance forum) suspended work programs with Russia. While select engagement has resumed, Moscow strategically capitalized on the West’s shunning of Russia in the Arctic forum and worked to diversify its Arctic partnerships elsewhere.

China and India have been the main benefactors of Washington’s short-sighted Arctic position. Simply put, Russia has little to no interest in performative Arctic status quo endeavors anymore. This is a critical challenge on the horizon for all Arctic stakeholders, whether in terms of their legitimate national interest (territorial or economic) or global interests in future supply chains and transportation routes. Washington has insignificant leverage to bring Moscow back into the Arctic tent.

Much ink is spilled on imagining the future histories of the Arctic. “New Cold Wars” are hotly debated, and fears of an “Asian Arctic” are routinely hyped. While I have long argued the era of Arctic “exceptionalism” is gone, it is perhaps pertinent to hear from Moscow. So, I asked Russia’s senior Arctic official—long-time Ambassador-at-Large for International Cooperation in the Arctic, Nikolai Korchunov. Korchunov is less sure the Arctic has passed a point of no return when it comes to international engagement, stating a glimmer of “common sense…is still present judging by the statements of some United States representatives” means he is hopeful for a “return to inclusive pan-Arctic dialogue sooner or later.”

China’s rationale for engagement in the Russian Arctic Zone is hotly contested by Arctic experts. Korchunov notes that “cooperation with China facilitates the development of…efficient supply chains,” which is no surprise given the strategic prize that is the northern sea route. The northern sea route is a game-changer that could cut off some 40 percent of the traveling distance of the traditional Suez Canal voyage for goods transiting between Asia and Europe.

Beyond its engagement with Russia, China’s Arctic identity is largely built upon its physical position at the Yellow River Station, Svalbard. Just recently, Beijing celebrated research triumphs at the station, clad with Chinese flags and personnel in military uniform. Does Russia believe the Svalbard Treaty—a cornerstone of the rules-based order in the Arctic—will be maintained? Korchunov diplomatically reiterates Russia’s interest in “its preservation and good faith implementation of all the provisions.” Of course, “good faith” implementation is just as important as interpretation. This is where both Russia and China manage to out-fox us. Washington doesn’t handle “gray zones” well.

Dismantling the Arctic status quo for short-term perceived political messaging gains has backfired for Washington. And it is not just about hard security affairs. As Korchunov laments, “lower effectiveness of existing mechanisms of decision-making by Arctic states on a range of non-military issues (environment, climate change, conservation of biodiversity, resource management, encouragement of sustainable economic development, and promotion of well-being of indigenous peoples of the North) shapes a space of uncertainty and vacuum which attracts other actors.” These actors are not merely drawn to strategic space or saber-rattling opportunities on America’s doorstep; they are looking for long-term economic gain. As Korchunov highlights, Russia has witnessed interest from states and organizations far beyond the Arctic, from Asia, and, more recently, the Arab states.

Washington has yet to realize it has entered the post-exceptionalist Arctic age. The repercussions are numerous. The focus remains on questions of “will they or won’t they” build a deepwater port at Nome (Alaska), or which of the two American icebreakers is not on fire this week? Biden’s Arctic legacy can be summarised in two basic talking points: bans on drilling in Alaska’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and a second-rate attempt at updating the U.S. National Strategy for the Arctic Region. Washington’s vision for the Arctic (as sketched in the National Strategy for the Arctic) is at odds with the reality of the Arctic today.

Geostrategic competition is not “looming”; it never left. China has all but internationalized the Arctic, so it really serves little benefit to speak in terms of “non-Arctic” states. For instance, bans throughout the Arctic on Chinese rare earth firms have resulted in more and more Australian companies operating in the Arctic. Biden has allowed the shine of Arctic exceptionalism to wear off, and by dismantling the “guardrails to manage competition and resolve disputes,” Washington now finds itself yet another theater in which it is unprepared to compete with China.

Deterrence requires dialogue just as much as it demands preparatory defense contingencies. Trump 2.0 will inherit an empty Arctic pantry. Obama did the same, handing Trump 1.0, a U.S. Arctic position gutted of regional leadership and respect. Of course, back then, Washington didn’t have to contend with the Chinese Navy or Chinese Coast Guard operating on Alaska’s Arctic doorstep. Trump 2.0 now has the difficult task of prying apart Beijing and Moscow to locate a mutual interest between Russia and the United States in reviving any semblance of “low tension” in the Arctic.

 

About the Author: 

Dr. Elizabeth Buchanan is a senior fellow at the Australian Strategic Policy Institute.

Image: Creative Commons.