“The Arctic Paradox”: Two reporters on climate, conflict and community

Geopolitical tensions in the Arctic are heating up with the climate. How has the situation evolved in recent years?

Brett: Already back in 2021, I had a front-row seat to how central ‘geo’-graphical changes can influence geopolitics. I was writing about the Arctic paradox: the same melt that makes this region so ecologically vulnerable is also “opening” it up to resource extraction, shipping, and militarisation. After Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, the Arctic Council – a diplomatic forum with the eight Arctic states and six Indigenous organisations – suspended its meetings. As a result, crucial climate science was caught in the crossfire of geopolitics, and nearly five years later only some of that science has resumed.

Today, we're witnessing another Arctic paradox. At the very moment global climate change demands we work together to produce both science and solutions, the destabilising forces it brings foment fear, distrust, division, and – I believe – authoritarian appeal.

Meral: Looking at Canada, the Arctic North is in the spotlight once again as part of the country’s security and sovereignty strategy, following the circulation of ambiguous threats of U.S. annexation of Greenland and Canada as the “51^st state” a little over a year ago. As in the past, Canada’s approach to security and sovereignty involves the federal government promising large-scale infrastructure, investing in the military, and suggesting the benefits to individual communities will trickle down – although communities on the ground know better. 

These same communities are on the frontlines of climate change, facing multiple impacts including wildfires, floods, permafrost thaw and higher temperatures all at once. The social challenges run deep. People in Canada's Arctic continue to face housing shortages, limited healthcare services, and a higher cost of living than elsewhere in the country. While Indigenous governments have welcomed the announcements of new infrastructure, communities remain mixed and are awaiting more information, particularly about environmental assessments and consultation processes. 

Brett, you mentioned that science has come under pressure. How can we understand the impact of the United States cutting funding?

Brett: Russia may account for half of the geographical Arctic, but the U.S., until recently, funded about 40 percent of research into the Arctic. One example is NOAA's satellite network that, since 1979, has tracked global ice extent, building an archive that is perhaps our clearest visual record of planetary climate change. That global ice index was just one casualty of the Trump Administration's massive cuts. The administration also started taking datasets offline without warning, leaving the international science community scrambling to free up server space and "rescue" historical data that every climate model needs. 

Lately, other institutions are stepping up, such as the European Space Agency, which is increasing their satellite coverage. But even if the United States hadn't produced an outsized amount of research, climate science is a global project. We simply need all regions covered. And Arctic research especially has depended on collaboration and data-sharing, since it's about eight times more expensive than doing science anywhere else in the world.

Meral, you mentioned local communities and an important part of these are Indigenous people. What would you both say are the lessons we can learn from them about climate change in the northernmost part of our planet?

Meral: I think Indigenous communities on the ground here understand deeply that everything is interconnected and that decisions must be made with future generations in mind, rather than short-term politics.  

You cannot advocate for militarisation as a means of security today without considering its detrimental impact on future security through worsening the effects of climate change. You cannot treat the jobs that mining creates in the short term as a solution to the many environmental and social problems it causes in the long term.

Another important point is that consultation looks different in Indigenous communities. It is not enough to be working with local elected officials on proposed developments without also connecting with individuals on the ground, taking the time to listen and address concerns, and adjusting any plans for development accordingly, including, potentially, to not move forward with a project at all. 

Brett: Around the world, Indigenous knowledge systems preserve a crucial historical archive and ecological understanding that is much, much older than the practice of modern Western science. 

For centuries, those knowledge systems were largely dismissed. A few decades ago, that began shifting in the Arctic, because of logistical bottlenecks and limited access. Scientists could not reach certain ice floes and would ask Inuit hunters and fishers for their observations or even give them instruments and teach them to take measurements. Now, we're at the cusp of what many consider a scientific revolution, in which traditional institutions and Indigenous communities work together as equal co-creators of knowledge, co-designing research questions and practices in ways that serve local community needs. 

The Kingdom of Denmark currently chairs the Arctic Council, and for the first time has appointed a Greenlandic leader for its two-year term. Indigenous participation in both research and policy is its first priority.

You both work as freelance reporters. What do you consider media’s biggest blind spots when covering the Arctic? 

Meral: I think the biggest challenge is the homogenisation of the region, which happens when journalists parachute into communities and most of the reporting takes place from a few select places. In Nunavut in Canada, for example, there has been too much reporting from communities such as Cambridge Bay and Pond Inlet, and very little from communities such as Naujaat, Sanikiluaq and Chesterfield Inlet. 

Another challenge is that reporting shouldn’t base all our work on statements and announcements made by elected officials or research projects that receive the most significant funding but have few connections to the community they work in.

My advice for good reporting is to look at the people and communities missing from the conversation and to work to build relations with them.

Brett: In early 2025, when Trump's Greenland rhetoric turned both specific and threatening, it was odd to realise how the geopolitical stakes in the high North suddenly became easier to explain. Yet, I noticed that even critical coverage centred the American president's view of the Arctic, a crude and imperialist conception from a person who has never crossed 66°N. 

At the same time, much of the international reporting "from the north" was also dubious. I saw the same patterns Meral describes. I was deeply troubled to hear from friends and contacts in Greenland about extractive, parachute journalism and aggressive story-chasing that descended upon Nuuk, straining the city and its 20,000 residents. Academic researchers follow strict ethical protocols when conducting field work in small communities, particularly when Indigenous peoples are involved. I heard of folks hiding out, feeling chased and pressured by well-respected media institutions as if they were the paparazzi. We can and must do better.

What most surprised you since reporting from the Arctic?

Meral: The generosity of Inuit and other communities who have seen journalists and politicians and researchers come and go but continue to share their time, knowledge, perspectives and their hopes with us. I can't speak for other professions, but media has historically failed to accurately represent communities on the ground. I am grateful when people here still choose to put their trust in my work, answering questions that can sometimes be ignorant, and teaching me every day about what it means to live on this land and to be respectful and responsible towards it. 

Brett: In my past work as a climate reporter, I covered the Arctic strictly in terms of loss. Lately, I've been more careful to centre its life, the many extraordinary and still-mysterious processes that help propel the planetary conditions with which we have all co-evolved.

That's not to diminish the present and grave consequences of Arctic change. I think it simply provides a more useful lens. Current power systems stand to gain, at least in the short term, our acceptance of the inevitable demise of our frozen regions. But humans have never lived on a planet without polar ice. We need it much more than we need to extract whatever lies under it. As with many climate narratives, changing the future of the Arctic depends on changing the way we talk about it. And we all could use a few reminders of how much there is still left to save.