The European Union's First Arctic Strategy
This week, the EU unveiled its first formal Arctic strategy (titled Europe’s Northern Neighbourhood: A New Strategy for the Arctic), which shifts the bloc’s primary focus toward hard security, critical infrastructure protection, defense, and strategic autonomy.
Prior to this, the European Union had released five major policy communications or updates regarding the Arctic region since 2008—presented as a series of Joint Communications rather than a single, comprehensive strategy.
We will set aside a detailed critical analysis of this 22-page document—which will shape the Arctic policy of this pseudo-federation of 27 states and 452 million people—for another time, and instead share some initial impressions.
An Ill-Timed Publication
At first glance, it appears that the authors of the European Union’s Arctic strategy—and the European Commission itself—chose the worst possible moment to unveil it, given the current global and European landscape. This speaks volumes about both the mindset and the intellectual capacity of those who conceived and championed it.
The European Union itself is currently being shaken by a political and economic earthquake—one unfolding right before our eyes, yet seemingly overlooked by the architects of this Arctic strategy. Their confidence in the strategy’s relevance is reminiscent of the passengers aboard the Titanic on its final voyage from Europe to the United States.
The geographical setting, incidentally, is the same.
It is already clear that a major political cycle is underway in Europe, with upcoming parliamentary and presidential elections in four key EU member states—Spain, France, Italy, and Poland. There is a strong possibility that nationally oriented (rather than globalist) right-wing forces will prevail—in countries where the state of the economy and public finances simply does not allow for splurging on the Arctic, a region that falls well outside Europe’s core interests. The fate of the EU’s seven-year budget remains unclear; it is highly unlikely to be adopted this year, and should right-wing forces win the French presidential election, it might never be approved at all.
Perhaps this is also why the authors of the Arctic strategy wisely refrained from specifying the sums or sources of funding for the European Union’s ambitions—ambitions that, given the EU’s primary territory, have no more justification for being labeled “Arctic” or “near-Arctic” than, for instance, China’s.
The population of the Arctic regions of Sweden and Finland—which is steadily shrinking—currently stands at 500,000, or just 0.11 percent of the European Union’s total population.
Clearly, this Arctic strategy was not drafted for this small group of people—of whom only about 28,000 are Indigenous Sami (a population that, including the Sami in Norway, totals around 80,000). Had it been, the authors—whose text is of rather low analytical quality—would have mentioned the ongoing, systemic violations of the rights of the Sami people in these three countries.
Within the UN, these countries have a poor reputation due to their violations of the rights of this Indigenous Arctic people.
Furthermore, Finland and Sweden lack direct access to the North Atlantic and Arctic waters, which significantly limits both their own Arctic ambitions and those of the European Union.
What, Then, Explains the Haste in Publishing This Arctic Strategy?
We are living through an era of shifting global leadership—a forced transition from a unipolar to a multipolar world. This process roughly aligns with a 100-year cycle: 60 years are typically spent acquiring and consolidating a dominant status, followed by 40 years of a gradual decline in leadership and the eventual surrender of that status to the next global leader—a transition almost invariably accompanied by a series of major military conflicts.
The 500-year era of collective Western dominance—led at various times by Spain, France, Great Britain, and the United States—is coming to an end before our very eyes, as global leadership shifts toward East Asia, with China and India at the forefront. This process is as irreversible as the changing of the seasons on Earth.
Viewing global processes through this lens allows for an analysis of the various actions taken by major actors—including the chaotic and ill-conceived maneuvers of the 27-member European Union, whose pathetic political elite in Brussels lacks the capacity for a clear, sober assessment of both itself and global affairs.
The haste with which the unelected Euro-bureaucracy has unveiled its grandiose Arctic ambitions—ambitions unsupported by its own geography, let alone the state of its economy and finances—stems from more than just a desire to project itself as a major geopolitical player (a role the European Union is, in reality, far from fulfilling).
Only two major powers—Russia and the United States—possess the desire, the will, and the full range of resources required to capitalize on the opportunities presented by global climate change in the Arctic.
Despite its vast Arctic territory, Canada is not a major player in the region. This is due to a scarcity of resources for development, a lack of desire or political will to pursue systematic development of its Arctic, and the concentration of capital, population, and political power in the country’s southern regions.
Canada has a long and troubled history in its dealings with Indigenous peoples across its territory—most notably in the Arctic, where it even employed practices reminiscent of the worst Nazi-era policies in its treatment of the Inuit.
The Canadian Arctic and the adjacent northern regions (40 percent of Canada’s total landmass and over 70 percent of its coastline) are home to only about 125,000–142,000 people. Furthermore, due to a lack of transport infrastructure connecting the territory north of the Northwest Passage to the rest of the country, the local population frequently faces food shortages and endures substandard social conditions.
The European Union Seeks an Opening in the Arctic
In effect, the European Union has only one foothold in the Arctic—a territory with an ambiguous legal status: Greenland, a possession of the Danish Crown. The EU has previously provided limited funding to Greenland for various projects, typically related to mineral extraction.
This legal ambiguity stems from the fact that Greenland has not been a member of the European Union since 1985—following an advisory referendum held in 1982—and is therefore not subject to the majority of EU laws. Greenland currently holds the status of an Overseas Country and Territory (OCT) associated with the EU.
Greenland’s leading political forces are oriented toward independence and are actively working toward this goal among the territory’s 55,000 inhabitants. It is now clear that this is a prospect for the near future: the attainment of independence will be followed by a complete overhaul of relations with the EU—whose Arctic strategy, in all likelihood, will end up in the trash bin. That is, if the EU itself still exists by then.
A Flyweight Boxer Has Entered the Arctic Ring
Undoubtedly, the EU’s Arctic strategy is an attempt to secure a strong position in this part of the world; however, to an informed observer, these ambitions appear disproportionate to the Union’s geopolitical weight—a weight that could be measured on a pharmacist’s scale rather than a livestock scale.
However whimsical President Trump’s actions and statements regarding Canada, Greenland, and the Arctic may appear, there is real substance behind them: the United States has the desire, the capability, and all the necessary resources to take active measures in the western Arctic to secure its national interests.
This reality effectively nullifies the substantive core of the European Union’s Arctic strategy, as any EU action in the region requires the approval of a global hegemon—one that may be in decline, yet remains more than powerful enough to exert its will.
This very fact raises serious questions about the sound judgment of those who initiated and authored the EU’s Arctic strategy.
Do they genuinely believe that European companies will secure lucrative contracts or gain access to rich mineral deposits in Greenland—and be able to ship those resources to Europe—before the global hegemon exercises its own “right of first night”? After all, under a recent trilateral agreement, the US has assumed full responsibility for Greenland’s military security—much as it did during the Second World War.
Furthermore, the US controls the granting of permits to foreign states for economic activity in Greenland.
Viewed in this light, the European Union’s hasty adoption of an ill-conceived Arctic strategy appears to be an attempt to stake a claim in the region—in competition with the US and by leaning on Canada—even if it means violating the EU’s own established rules; the Union’s institutional framework makes no provision for an “associated” status—that is, a form of partial or incomplete membership—for Canada.
The European Union’s Arctic strategy appears even more absurd in light of the recent referendum in Iceland regarding the resumption of negotiations for that country’s accession to the EU. The slap in the face that Iceland dealt the European Union has effectively closed the door to the Arctic for the bloc, leaving only a back-door entrance via Greenland—a place where the situation is already dictated by the United States. Washington will not tolerate a strong competitor there, especially one with a keen appetite for the scarce minerals that the reindustrializing United States itself requires.
