Last summer, the people of the Arctic Norwegian island of Sommarøy announced that they wanted to abolish time. With months of uninterrupted darkness in winter and daylight in summer, there is no point in living by a fixed 24-hour cycle. The island would be the world’s first ‘time-free zone’. The news was taken over by media all over the world before it became clear that it was a PR stunt of the local tourist office.
True or not, the news matched the image of the polar regions. They seem to be somehow outside the real world. If there is no sunrise or sunset and everything is frozen, no time seems to pass. Free from generation and corruption like Aristotle’s superlunary sphere, the polar ice caps look like pure, untainted, innocent landscape. But the ice is also inhospitable and terrifying. The Victorians saw it as a sneak preview of the ultimate end of the world. Frankenstein’s monster fled to the Arctic to disappear, pursued by the desperate doctor.[1]
For scientists, the frozen parts of the Earth (‘the cryosphere’) offer great opportunities. We can go to the ice and directly touch history, for example in the shape of Ötzi the Iceman or frozen mammoths in the Siberian permafrost. In ice cores, the history of the Earth’s climate is visible in neat layers, as if in an archive. This is also used actively: in the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, an archive of plant seeds is stored for the future, as a kind of environmental back-up. Freezing is a way to defeat time.[2]
Not everything that is preserved in the ice is good, of course: Antarctica is a popular location for conspiracy theories about secret hideouts where Nazis are biding their time. And the few people who live in the Arctic are often treated as if they too are some sort of relic from the past, as if they do not belong in the modern world.[3]
Science plays a very special role in such otherworldly regions. In this sense, the polar regions are comparable to outer space, which I explored in a previous publication.[4] In outer space, time is even more meaningless than on Earth, since there is no reference frame of daily or yearly rotation. And space is also filled with remnants of history. Asteroids, comets and moon rocks are investigated because they are considered fossils from the birth of the solar system. Astrophysicists often frame their research in terms of finding the origins of life, the universe and everything. And yes, there are also conspiracy theories about Nazi colonies on the Moon.
In this essay I want to reflect on the role of science in timeless space, and on what happens when this timeless nature ends – when the ice melts.
Common heritage of mankind
Both outer space and the polar regions have been defined by the UN as ‘common heritage of mankind’: we have a common responsibility to preserve their pure state. That is not easy, because their timeless nature is not eternal. The ice is melting. Global warming and cheaper launch technology are gradually making these regions increasingly accessible. For the first time in forever, they are dragged into normal time. Especially the Arctic is becoming a symbol of the fact that something that was once seen as stable is now changing fast: our climate.[5]
Like the open seas, outer space and the polar regions do not belong to any nation. They are international territory, and therefore supposedly also outside politics. They are comparable cases in international law (all tracing back to Grotius’ Mare Liberum). The rules for space and the polar regions are made in international committees, not by national governments. The United Nations has a Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space, for example.
The most impressive example is Antarctica, which is governed by the Antarctic Treaty.[6] The – partially overlapping – claims that various countries have made to parts of Antarctica have been put on hold. Analysists say they have been ‘frozen’.[7] The continent is governed by international consensus, and all military activities are banned. All member countries have the right to inspect each other’s research stations. Impressively, in 1991 a ‘protocol’ was accepted which prohibited all mining for at least 50 years. It has been cited as a model for other regions, especially the Arctic.[8]
The politics of politics-free zones
But of course, the apolitical image is only part of the story. Space and the Arctic are highly strategic areas, subject to great political and military scheming. The editors of Globalizing Polar Science, a book about the international Geophysical Years, used to joke that Polarizing Global Science would perhaps have been a more appropriate title.[9] The Arctic was a focus point of the Cold War, with important strategic bases all around the region (Trump was not the first US President to try to buy Greenland for strategic reasons).[10] The Space Race was not only about technological prowess and political prestige, but also about espionage and missile guidance.[11] Today, Russia is trying to claim the North Pole as Russian territory, and media have proclaimed a new Space Race as more and more countries, tech companies and billionaires are frantically pursuing space programs. Several countries and NATO have established military Space Commands.
Despite these tensions – or perhaps because of them – the image of a ‘politics-free zone’ is often used.[12] Neil Armstrong proclaimed the Moon landing a ‘giant leap for mankind’, minutes before planting a national flag. The ‘handshake in space’ between a Soviet cosmonaut and an American astronaut in 1975 was a great symbol of détente during the Cold War. Today, the International Space Station is often described as a perfect international community, which according to some deserves the Nobel Peace Prize.
Games in space and ice
The political scheming surrounding the polar regions and outer space reminded me of Dutch historian Johan Huizinga’s Homo Ludens, on the play element in culture. Among the characteristics of games, according to Huizinga, is that they involve well-defined arenas, clearly separated from normal life, in which participants agree to compete under special rules.[13] This is clearly the case in space and the polar regions. The play element is further present in the strong emphasis on ‘firsts’ and records, the sense of adventure that pervades all talk about activities in these regions, and the prominent ‘toys for boys’ element (yes, the gender aspect of this term is no coincidence).
Games not only have well-defined boundaries in space, but also in time: according to Huizinga, a characteristic of games is that they end, with winners and losers. In this case, the goal of the game is to be in a good position when the game ends, ready to seriously exploit the economic and strategic benefits of the regions (a strategy document of a Dutch polar research program was titled ‘Poolpositie’ – pole position). This means having an infrastructure ready, possessing the knowledge and technology needed to operate there, and having an influential position in all relevant committees and organizations that govern the regions.
That end seems to be near in the Arctic, because of climate change. Oil and gas fields that were once too expensive to exploit look increasingly appealing. More importantly, the Northern shipping routes between Asia and the Atlantic are opening up. This is already drawing a lot of political and commercial interest. Soon, the Arctic Ocean will be a sea like any other.
The situation in space is ambivalent. As satellites get smaller and rocket launches cheaper, satellites in Earth orbit are becoming increasingly mundane (sorry). Commercial firms are launching satellites by the dozen. And while space is supposed to be a demilitarized zone, reconnaissance satellites have counted for a significant, possibly majority, share of government spending on satellites. Anything further than Earth orbit is still the exclusive domain of scientific exploration, and will be for some time, but that does not stop frantic speculation about asteroid mining.
Antarctica, in the meantime, remains closed for anything except scientific research stations and some tourism. Still, Chinese activities in the region have increased markedly in recent years, signaling its geopolitical ambitions.
The presence of science
With the end of the game in sight, many countries are trying to improve their positions in the regions. Interestingly, they seem to respect the game as such, at least so far. There have been no direct confrontations in space or the polar regions. When Russia put a flag on the North Pole, or when China and India shot down their own satellites, they were testing the limits of the rules, but not really provoking a conflict. As Huizinga said: cheating may be against the rules, but it still occurs within the boundaries of the game, with the aim of winning it. This is not the same as spoiling the game, which ‘breaks’ the game as such.
One of the rules of this particular game is: to have influence, you need to be present in the region. This is formalized in the Antarctic Treaty: only countries with a presence in the region have full voting power. In the Arctic council and the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space, influence is also closely correlated with the scope of actual activities. So countries want to be visibly present. And what is the best way to achieve that? Military activities are banned or questioned, and in any case not a good way to gather international goodwill. The same goes for commercial activities, which also clash with environmental concerns.
By far the best way to establish presence is through science, for example by establishing research stations or building scientific equipment. Even better: participate in international stations or missions, such as the International Space Station. This demonstrates your willingness to invest in the joint mission of exploring and protecting the region in an unthreatening way, and without seeking direct benefits.
Pure science as spin-off
This is why many governments fund space and polar research. This explains why the Dutch polar research station is co-funded by Foreign Affairs.[14] This is why the Chinese government is increasing its activities in Antarctica, for example by sending two ‘research’ icebreakers there last year (Snow Dragons 1 and 2). Of course, scientific activities provide access to relevant knowledge (especially on how to survive the harsh local conditions), and an excuse to develop technology for future use. But from an international-political perspective, it does not really matter much what research is actually done, as long as it is done on-site. Pure science is the spin-off of politics here.
In other cases, the content of the science does matter however. Russian oceanographers argue that the Lomonosov Ridge, which stretches to the North Pole, belongs to the Eurasian continental Shelf, which would give it certain rights regarding economic exploitation. Danish and Canadian scientists have reacted with similar claims for their countries. These claims are pretty direct, but indirect connections also count. The United Kingdom is presenting itself as ‘Sub-Arctic state’, while China has carved out a special status as ‘Near-Arctic state’ and is working on a ‘Polar Silk Road’.[15] The connection can be indirect as well: Indian climatologists argue that Arctic weather patterns are directly linked to the monsoon.
Stay cool
I think it is fruitful to compare the ways in which science and politics interact in outer space and the polar regions – regions beyond the limits of our normal world, outside national boundaries, and in some sense outside the normal framework of time and space. Comparing them can teach us what could happen when the ice melts and the scientific game ends: Antarctica as model of international cooperation, the Arctic as model of fierce competition, and outer space as a mixture of both.
Besides, of course, the subject is just too cool to
let it go.
[1] Alexis Rider, ‘Interglacial Victorians: Ice and the Natural End of Time’, talk at the HSS conference in Utrecht, 2019.
[2] Cf. Joanna Radin and Emma Kowal, Cryopolitics: Frozen Life in a Melting World (Cambridge MA: MIT Press 2017) and Joanna Radin, Life on Ice: a history of the new uses of cold blood (University of Chicago Press 2017).
[3] This remark is inspired by the Kim Tallbear’s Distinguished Lecture at the HSS conference in Seattle in 2018; cf. Radin, Life on Ice, esp. ch2.
[4] David Baneke, ‘Space for ambitions : the Dutch space program in changing European and transatlantic contexts’, Minerva 52 no.1 (2014) 119-140.
[5] Miyase Christensen, Annika Nilsson and Nina Wormbs (eds.), Media and the Politics of Arctic Climate Change: When the Ice Breaks (New York: Palgrave Macmillan 2013).
[6] Aant Elzinga, ‘Antarctica: the construction of a continent by and for science’, in Elisabeth Crawford, Terry Shinn, Sverker Sörlin (eds.), Denationalizing Science: the context of international scientific practice (Dordrecht: Springer 1992) 73-106.
[7] See for example two recent essays by political scientists Elizabeth Buchanan and Alejandra Mancilla.
[8] Lize-Marié van der Watt and Peder Roberts, ‘Voicing Bipolar Futures: The Antarctic Treaty System and Arctic Governance in Historical Perspective’, in: Nina Wormbs (ed.), Competing Arctic Futures: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives (Palgrave Macmillan 2018) 139-164.
[9] Roger D. Launius, James R. Fleming and David H. DeVorkin (eds.), Globalizing Polar Science: Reconsidering the International Polar and Geophysical Years (Palgrave 2010).
[10] There is a lot of literature about this; one good example is Ronald Doel, Kristine Harper and Matthias Heymann (eds.), Exploring Greenland: Cold War Science and Technology on Ice (Palgrave Macmillan 2016).
[11] A classic on this topic is Walter MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth: a political history of the space age (New York: Basic Books 1986).
[12] Sheila Jasanoff has observed that the creation of a politics-free zone is an intensely political move. Sheila Jasanoff, Designs on Nature: Science and Democracy in Europe and the United States (Princeton University Press 2005) 231. Cf. Rebecka Lettevall, Geert Somsen and Sven Widmalm (eds.), Neutrality in Twentieth-Century Europe. Intersections of Science, Culture, and Politics after the First World War (London and New York: Routledge 2012).
[13] Johan Huizinga, Homo Ludens: Proeve eener bepaling van het spel-element der cultuur (orig. 1938), in: Huizinga, Verzamelde Werken Deel 5: Cultuurgeschiedenis 3 (Haarlem: Tjeenk Willink & Zoon 1950) 26-246, esp. 35-39.
[14] For background, see: Peter Abbink, Antarctic policymaking & science in the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany (1957-1990) (Groningen 2009). See also an earlier post on Shells and Pebbles by Robert-Jan Wille.
[15] Eric Paglia, ‘The Telecoupled Arctic: Assessing Stakeholder Narratives of Non-Arctic States’, in: Nina Wormbs (ed.), Competing Arctic Futures: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives (Palgrave Macmillan 2018) 189-212.