Polar Apposites

Recent global headlines have provided another reminder of the serious nature of polar geostrategic competition. The renewed attention followed reports that Danish military personnel deployed to Greenland in early January were prepared to sabotage airfields if President Donald Trump ordered American forces to seize the island. The contingency plans were made after he stated that the United States “needed Greenland from a national security situation. It’s so strategic.”

Trump’s extraordinary ambitions apparently moderated later that month after he committed to “a framework for a future deal” on Arctic security. But underlying concerns about strategic risks in the Arctic have not abated.

Similarly, but less prominently, competition for influence in the Antarctic region is also building. Seven states—Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom—have territorial claims in Antarctica. Australia’s is the largest (covering approximately 40% of the landmass), followed by Norway’s (covering approximately 20%), which makes it the only country with territorial interests in both polar regions. Ten other states, including Russia and the United States (both maintain a “basis of claim”), have constructed research facilities on the continent.

For much of the post-war era, Antarctica has not been a theatre of significant or sustained geopolitical friction. It is remote and inhospitable, has no permanent population, and has presented few economically viable resource exploitation opportunities. It has also (perhaps because of the foregoing reasons) enjoyed a stable international political framework under the 1959 Antarctic Treaty. The agreement provides that the continent will be used for peaceful purposes only (verified by free and unlimited inspection of facilities and equipment) and enshrines freedom of scientific investigation and cooperation there. A subsequent Protocol on Environmental Protection prohibits mineral resource activities, except for scientific research. Although the protocol’s operation may be reviewed from 2048, modification of this prohibition can enter into force only with the agreement of all 26 “consultative parties”, and the prohibition cannot be removed unless a binding legal regime is in force on Antarctic mineral resource activities.

Such prima facie acceptance of Antarctica as a “scientific commons” should make it less vulnerable to international competitive impulses. But that status is under pressure, with China the primary mover. After identifying the polar regions among its “new strategic frontiers” in 2015, Beijing’s 2021-2025 Five-Year Plan elevated the priority of polar exploration to help secure China’s prosperity. The country also committed specifically to improve its “ability to participate in the protection and utilization of Antarctica”. Beijing has backed up its position by increasing the number of year-round operational stations on the continent from two in 2020 (with a further two summer-only stations) to an expected six by the end of 2027. China’s growing interest is also manifested through significant investment in Antarctic air, sea, and land transport capabilities, including two icebreakers.

Beijing’s elevated policy and physical commitment, coupled with its willingness to challenge consensus within the Antarctic Treaty System, has caused growing unease among many other Antarctic stakeholders. Principal security concerns include the prospect of China’s exploiting dual-use capabilities, especially for satellite communication and surveillance; using ocean mapping to support naval access; and undertaking environmental, magnetic field, and space weather monitoring that could serve military purposes. China’s National Defense University did little to allay these fears by stating in the 2020 edition of its “Science of Military Strategy” textbook that “military-civilian mixing is the main way for great powers to achieve a polar military presence”. At a broader national policy level, China’s military-civil fusion strategy explicitly conscripts all aspects of the country’s capabilities to support its strategic aims.

Perhaps mindful of worries about its underlying motivations, Beijing did not include specific references to Antarctica in its 2025 Five-Year Plan. The strategy did, however, obliquely state that “capacity building on national security should be bolstered in emerging domains, including … the polar regions.”

China’s likely long-run interest in future resource “utilization” of the continent is also making other stakeholders nervous. Beijing’s 2025 Five-Year Plan was more ambiguous than its predecessor about economic ambitions for Antarctica specifically, but a section on “Strengthening marine development, utilization, and protection” noted that China “should conduct marine surveys, observation, and monitoring and advance the development and utilization of marine energy and resources, sea areas, and islands. … Systems for supporting deep-sea and polar-region expeditions should be improved.” Beijing also has an extensive “super-trawler” fishing presence in the southern oceans and has resisted efforts to increase marine protection in the Antarctic.

China is not alone in harboring resource exploitation designs on Antarctica. Russia has also demonstrated a keen interest in what the country’s authorities have described as “the mineral resource potential of the Antarctic”. Russian state-owned mineral exploration firm Rosgeo and its subsidiaries have undertaken several operations since 2019 to “assess the oil and gas bearing prospects of the Antarctic shelf” and to carry out geological research on land.

While Russia’s presence on the continent suffers from poor resourcing, it too has raised suspicions about dual use risks, especially in relation to intelligence and ground-based space activities. An infamous incident in 2018, when a Norwegian team was blocked from inspecting runways at Russia’s Novolazarevskaya base, did little to allay concerns.

The prevailing international legal architecture for Antarctica, and environmental and logistics challenges, offer some protections for now. But they could come under pressure before the 2048 treaty review period if exploration and impacts of climate change give rise to viable future opportunities on resource exploitation and dual-use fronts. China and Russia are likely to continue to test norms and the consensus-based governance architecture of the Antarctic Treaty System as they seek to open the door to these opportunities.

No alarm bells are ringing now about an imminent breakdown of the system in response to current challenges. China and Russia probably still have more to gain than lose from its operation over the medium term. There is also skepticismabout the ultimate utility of some suspected dual-use capabilities given alternatives whose deployment can be in more hospitable environments. Lastly, geographic remoteness and treacherous access will continue to impede prospects for the Antarctic region’s militarization. But, as one analyst stated, Antarctica is “slowly shaping to become a ‘contested place’ in the presence of Russia and China”.

Several countries with interests in the region have taken concrete steps to respond to these emerging risks. Australia’s and New Zealand’s defense ministers agreed in March to institute an annual strategic dialogue on Antarctica, which other countries might, ideally, eventually be able to join. Chile’s navy has been responding assertively over the past year to an significant increase in the number of Chinese fishing vessels operating near its exclusive economic zone. Chile (along with Argentina) has also rejected China’s persistent requests for naval access to the area.

With 14 European countries, including three claimant states, parties to the Antarctic Treaty, Europe contributes much weight to efforts to preserve Antarctica’s special, protected status. All must hold the line as that status becomes more contested.

The views expressed herein are those solely of the author(s). GMF as an institution does not take positions.