In the era of cheap flights, no one is surprised to find a compatriot on the Great Wall of China or exploring a cave in New Zealand, but in the 17th century things, I suppose, were very different. It is not easy to imagine the adventures of the Basque whalers in the icy waters of the Svalbard Islands, a hand's breadth from the North Pole. Before plastic and kerosene, cetacean oil served as fuel for lighting and their beards were valued in the making of corsets. Cape Biscayarhuken, in the northern part of the archipelago, remembers the passage of those sailors.
Even today the islands remain a remote and lonely place, despite the fact that tourism gives meaning to its main town, Longyearbyen, the starting point of polar adventures for travelers from all over the world. During a brief stay a few days ago, I imagined the sensations of its first settlers there: those of the whalers from all over Europe who settled in such a hostile land, those of the trappers in search of furs or those of the miners who, some time later, extracted coal from its mountains. In recent decades, Russians and Norwegians have mined the local black rock.
The Russians have maintained mining activity for more than 90 years in the town of Barentsburg, where about 300 individuals live together, with the bust of Lenin presiding over the main square. Today, coal serves to sustain themselves and defend the fort, land acquired by the Arktikugol company during the times of the USSR, on islands that have acquired enormous strategic value since then.
What does that little Russia look like in Norwegian territory? Its existence has to do with the treaty that makes Svalbard an atypical place. It was signed in 1920, after the First World War, and, although the sovereignty of the islands corresponds to Norway, it recognizes access and exploitation rights to almost fifty countries for commercial purposes, although it prevents any war use or the construction of fortifications and bases. A few days ago, the Russian Foreign Minister, Sergei Lavrov, celebrated Moscow's presence in the area, in a climate of growing geopolitical tension, with constant reproaches to Norway and NATO, which he accuses of militarizing the region.
Svalbard is a relevant place for sea and space observation. It makes it possible to monitor shipping routes through the Arctic, the path that Russia's Northern Fleet must take if it wants to reach the Atlantic, and at the same time accurately follow the trajectory of a missile. Its geographical position facilitates optimal control of satellite activity and the Svalsat station is located there, the largest terrestrial satellite base in the world.
Episodes of friction have multiplied. Of course, with Russia - damage to an underwater cable shortly before the invasion of Ukraine was linked to Moscow - but also with China, whose scientific station has raised concerns in the United States due to possible military use. Norwegian security services have warned of possible espionage from Beijing and Svalbard University has closed the door to Chinese students. Norwegian politicians have even entertained the idea of exploring the seabed, irritating Moscow and Iceland; They have tightened the conditions so that foreigners can vote on the islands and tightened the supervision of land purchases. When everyone looks at Greenland, Svalbard becomes another point of confrontation.
Looking out over the fjord, leaving Longyearbyen behind you, you don't have that feeling. Just try to spot the back of a whale or the presence of one of the thousands of polar bears that inhabit the islands. The place seems alien to mundane things, but perhaps a nuclear submarine is sailing beneath the waters. It may be that the fishing boat that peacefully crosses the bay is actually collecting intelligence information. Nothing seems innocent anymore. There are no refuges or neutral territories left. The Great Game also makes its way to the end of the world.
