The Arctic, once largely ignored in the global legal imagination, now pulses at the center of geopolitical and environmental transformation. Its ice is retreating at a breathtaking pace, creating new maritime corridors, unlocking vast reserves of untapped resources, and setting off a scramble for influence, access, and control. Yet even as governments and corporations accelerate their Arctic ambitions, the frameworks meant to regulate such developments remain fractured, incomplete, and increasingly outmatched. Nowhere is this more evident than in the realms of resource extraction and shipping, where the convergence of environmental fragility, rising commercial interest, and legal ambiguity has exposed deep governance gaps that threaten to undermine regional stability and ecological integrity alike.
At the heart of Arctic maritime governance lies the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, or UNCLOS, often described as the constitution for the world’s oceans. It outlines the legal basis for territorial seas, exclusive economic zones, continental shelf extensions, and high seas freedoms. In theory, it should provide a stable foundation for resolving disputes over Arctic waters and seabeds. In practice, it is struggling to keep pace with emerging claims and the accelerating thaw.
Several Arctic states, including Russia, Canada, and Denmark, have submitted overlapping claims to the extended continental shelf, particularly concerning the resource-rich seabed beneath the central Arctic Ocean. These disputes hinge on scientific arguments over undersea ridges like the Lomonosov and Alpha-Mendeleev Ridges. While UNCLOS provides a mechanism for evaluating such claims through its Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf, it lacks any power to arbitrate when those claims overlap. More fundamentally, the United States has never ratified UNCLOS, leaving it outside the convention’s dispute resolution system entirely and undermining efforts to coordinate a comprehensive legal regime for the region.
Beyond continental shelf claims, UNCLOS is silent mainly on several of the most urgent challenges facing the Arctic. It does not contain specific provisions addressing transboundary environmental impact assessments, nor does it regulate commercial fishing, marine biodiversity conservation, or resource extraction in the high seas. Seabed mining, a growing concern given the Arctic’s wealth of rare earth elements and polymetallic nodules, falls into an even murkier zone. While the International Seabed Authority governs deep-sea mining in areas beyond national jurisdiction, the Arctic Ocean is not yet covered by any binding rules tailored to its unique environmental and geopolitical context. The result is a gaping hole in the regulatory fabric at precisely the moment when interest in exploiting these frontiers is reaching new heights.
Regional governance mechanisms provide little more clarity. The Arctic Council, often lauded as a model of soft-law cooperation, was never designed to be a rule-making body. It brings together the eight Arctic states and several Indigenous organizations, as well as observer nations from outside the region, to foster scientific cooperation and environmental protection. It has produced valuable guidelines and recommendations and facilitated important agreements on oil spill response and search and rescue coordination. Yet it operates entirely by consensus and lacks any enforcement capacity. It also deliberately excludes matters of military security, a critical omission given the region’s growing strategic significance. Since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, the Arctic Council’s work has been paralyzed, with most Western members suspending cooperation with Moscow, further weakening the region’s primary forum for dialogue and coordination.
Fishing in the Arctic offers another example of institutional fragmentation. No overarching regional fisheries management organization covers the Arctic high seas. While the 2018 Central Arctic Ocean Fisheries Agreement established a moratorium on commercial fishing in the central Arctic Ocean and required joint scientific research, it is a temporary measure, not a permanent governance regime. As fish stocks migrate northward due to warming temperatures and ice loss, the absence of a binding regulatory framework could invite a tragedy of the commons scenario, where competition among states and companies leads to overfishing and ecosystem collapse. Similar gaps exist in the regulation of shipping, where the rapid growth of trans-Arctic maritime traffic is outpacing the rules intended to govern it.
The International Maritime Organization’s Polar Code, adopted in 2017, was a long-awaited step toward safer Arctic navigation. It introduced mandatory requirements for ship design, crew training, and environmental protection in polar waters. But the code has serious shortcomings. It applies only to vessels covered by the SOLAS and MARPOL conventions, leaving out fishing boats, private yachts, and many smaller ships. It does not include stringent requirements for black carbon emissions, underwater noise, or the discharge of graywater, all of which pose significant risks to Arctic ecosystems. Enforcement depends heavily on flag states, some of which have limited capacity or incentive to monitor compliance. Meanwhile, ice conditions remain unpredictable, weather events are more extreme, and emergency response capabilities are dangerously thin.
The two most prominent Arctic shipping corridors, the Northern Sea Route and the Northwest Passage, reveal how conflicting legal interpretations can produce overlapping claims and diplomatic friction. Russia treats the Northern Sea Route as part of its internal waters, requiring foreign vessels to seek permission, pay fees, and accept Russian icebreaker escorts. Canada adopts a similar approach to the Northwest Passage, insisting it falls within its internal waters under historic title. At the same time, the United States and many European states argue these are international straits open to transit passage. These disputes remain unresolved and raise difficult questions about freedom of navigation, coastal state rights, and international maritime law. As melting ice renders these routes increasingly navigable, tensions could sharpen without more explicit legal norms and mechanisms for dispute resolution.
Resource extraction compounds these concerns. Large hydrocarbon reserves lie beneath the Arctic seabed, especially in the Barents, Kara, Beaufort, and Chukchi Seas. National oil and gas policies vary dramatically, with Norway imposing strict environmental standards. At the same time, Russia aggressively pushes Arctic LNG development. In the absence of a unified regional framework, each state pursues its interests through domestic regulation, bilateral agreements, and corporate partnerships. There are no standard transboundary environmental protocols, and the risk of oil spills, especially in remote areas without infrastructure, remains alarmingly high. The Arctic’s extreme conditions, ice movement, remoteness, lack of daylight, and volatile weather would render cleanup efforts slow, costly, and potentially ineffective. Worse still, many baseline environmental studies are either outdated or insufficient to inform proper risk assessments, particularly regarding cumulative effects and ecosystem resilience.
Indigenous communities, who have lived in harmony with Arctic ecosystems for millennia, are often left out of decision-making despite being directly affected by these transformations. While the Arctic Council formally includes Permanent Participants representing Indigenous peoples, their ability to shape policy remains limited, particularly in areas such as shipping regulations and resource development. Their traditional knowledge systems, which offer vital insights into seasonal cycles, animal behavior, and climate change impacts, are not consistently integrated into governance frameworks. Meaningful inclusion of Indigenous voices, along with legal recognition of their rights to land, resources, and consultation, is critical to any equitable governance solution.
Security dynamics further complicate the picture. The Arctic has long been viewed as a zone of peace and cooperation, but that perception is eroding. The expansion of military infrastructure by Russia, the growing interest of China in the region as a “near-Arctic” state, and the increasing frequency of NATO exercises in the High North all point to an area where geopolitical competition is on the rise. Yet there is no formal mechanism for managing security tensions in the Arctic. The Arctic Council does not address military affairs, and there are no confidence-building measures or arms control agreements specific to the region. As the Arctic becomes more accessible and more contested, the lack of a security dialogue architecture could amplify risks of miscalculation and escalation.
To bridge these governance gaps, the international community must rethink its approach. UNCLOS must be strengthened, not just through broader ratification, especially by the United States, but through the development of new protocols specific to the Arctic. The Polar Code needs to be expanded and tightened to cover all vessels and environmental threats. The Arctic Council, while valuable, cannot carry the entire burden of regional governance. New institutional arrangements may be necessary, including a permanent regional body with legal authority, enforcement capabilities, and a mandate to address the full spectrum of Arctic issues, from environmental protection and Indigenous rights to shipping safety and security cooperation.
The Arctic is no longer a frozen periphery. It is a rapidly changing epicenter of global climate, commerce, and contestation. Its future depends not only on who gains access to its routes and resources, but on how well the world can govern that access. Without stronger, more cohesive legal and institutional frameworks, the Arctic risks becoming a lawless frontier where competition overwhelms cooperation and short-term exploitation drowns out long-term stewardship. The time to act is not in some hypothetical distant future, but now, while the ice still holds and the possibilities for peace and sustainability remain within reach.
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