Historically, there have been two kinds of economic activities in northern Alaska. The first and oldest is the subsistence lifestyle of the Indigenous peoples. The second and more recent is the development of the oil and gas industry, which began in earnest in 1977 with the competition of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline and construction of a new road, the Dalton Highway. Although first used only by commercial traffic for the oilfield, in 1994, the highway opened to the public and is now frequented by tourists travelling above the Arctic Circle. In this paper, we analyse the future of northern Alaska tourism by considering evolutionary economic geography and the area’s likely reduction in oil and gas activity. We consider how climate change may serve as a trigger, impacting tourism through the rise of last chance tourism, and conduct a scenario-based analysis. We argue that the oil and gas industry is likely to continue along its current path, exhausting accessible resources and innovating technology to push into new territories in the far north. However, should the culmination of extraneous factors render climate change a trigger, industry decline could be offset by investments that repurpose the area’s industrial heritage into tourism sites.

In 2021, the decision to close the last Norwegian coal mine on Svalbard was made, and with that, the Norwegian coal adventure on the archipelago came to an end. This was a result of a political process, which is the focus of this article. Drawing on fieldwork conducted during the fall of 2022, I argue that the political process of phasing out coal changed from a conflict over interests to a contest over symbolic capital. The article contributes to the understanding of Norwegian Svalbard politics and the “balancing act” that this represents. I focus on how power, in the form of shaping people’s perceptions and as prestige, influenced what interests prevail and why. The article addresses (1) why the decision to phase out coal was not made earlier, (2) what ultimately made this decision possible and (3) why and over what the key actors were still competing after the decision to phase out coal was made.

Pringlea antiscorbutica (Brassicaceae) and Azorella polaris (syn. Stilbocarpa polaris, Apiaceae) are endemic sub-Antarctic flowering plants of significant ecological and historical importance. Pringlea antiscorbutica occurs on Îles Kerguelen and Crozet, Prince Edward, and the Heard and MacDonald Islands; A. polaris on Auckland, Campbell, and Macquarie Islands. We examine the use of these unrelated species of “wild cabbage,” as scurvy remedies and sustenance for eighteenth–nineteenth-century sailors. We trace their European discovery, taxonomic treatment, morphological representation, and cultural association through the historical record. Scurvy killed more sailors during the sixteenth-nineteenth centuries than armed conflict and shipwrecks combined. Both plants were essential to the survival of sailors and formed a nutritious, carbohydrate-rich staple of their diets, however, attitudes to these plants were strongly influenced by cultural background. Use of P. antiscorbutica as a scurvy remedy was promoted by Cook and Anderson, leading to a greater historical legacy than A. polaris, and a unique contemporary research focus on the plant’s nutritional value and cultivation potential. In contrast, contemporary studies of A. polaris have been directed primarily at the plant’s protection. Pringlea antiscorbutica and A. polaris are intrinsically linked to human associations with the sub-Antarctic islands, which further increases their cultural and conservation value.

Few details are known about the fate of the Franklin Expedition after it departed England in 1845. What we do know is derived from the archaeological record, Inuit testimony and brief communications written in 1847 and 1848 from the Expedition. During the 1860s, Charles Francis Hall went to the Arctic in search of survivors, papers, and relics. During Hall’s second expedition, two Inuit testimonies emerged which reported unusual site(s) on the Westcoast of King William Island which were reputedly built by the Expedition. Hall believed these sites were either a burial site or a cemented document vault(s). The first testimony, recorded by Hall himself, was obtained from a Pelly Bay Inuk, Sŭ-pung-er, in 1866. The second was collected from Pelly Bay Inuit by members of Hall’s support team, including Peter Bayne, in Hall’s absence in 1868. Eventually, the second testimony was sold to the Canadian Government in the form of a report written by George Jamme after Bayne’s death in 1928. Until now, only extracts of the Jamme Report have been available. This paper describes the background to the Jamme report and presents it in its entirety along with critiques so that scholars in the future may have this tool.

The mysterious disappearance of HMS Erebus and HMS Terror while searching for the Northwest Passage under the leadership of Sir John Franklin in the 1840s led to more than thirty different expeditions seeking to find the lost ships and their 129-man crews. It also fostered the first and only use of wild animals as a means of communication in such a rescue operation. Since covering the vast search areas was challenging, if not impossible during sub-freezing winter conditions, some of the would-be rescuers turned to Arctic foxes as couriers of information that they hoped might direct the lost explorers to safety. Based on excerpts from the participants’ diaries and published reports from the period, and on the physical evidence that survives, this paper describes the role Arctic foxes were asked to play in one of the greatest (unsuccessful) rescue efforts ever undertaken in the Far North.

In this paper, we expand on existing studies of Canadian Inuit art in the international arena by examining ways in which this new art served domestic purposes, focusing primarily on the 1950s and 1960s. The Canadian government developed and promoted Inuit art as part of its project to transform Inuit from semi-independent hunters into modern Canadian citizens. In this effort, Canada took up and assimilated Inuit art as a genuine Canadian cultural product, presenting it as diplomatic gifts and for other forms of international cultural diplomacy. Previous studies of Canadian Inuit art from that era have noted the ways that the promotion of Canadian Inuit art supported the young nation’s claims to a deep history, while simultaneously marking the country’s distinction from both the United States and the United Kingdom. In the context of the Cold War, the promotion of Canadian Inuit art also asserted Canada as an Arctic power. Labelled as “primitive modernist” fine art, Inuit sculpture and prints provided a stark contrast to the contemporaneous socialist realist art of the Soviet Union and its allies. We argue that the success of the Inuit art program sustained a belief among government officials that their programme to remake Inuit lives and livelihoods would succeed. Inuit art likely deflected attention from the many things that were going wrong with that northern modernisation project.

This article makes the case for applying recent developments in the history of emotions, and in particular the concept of “emotional arena”, to the study of past polar expeditions. It focuses on the first Antarctic expedition of Jean-Baptiste Charcot (1903–1905), showing how, despite a lack of ideal sources, attention to the role of emotions in his expedition, and in the way it was communicated to the public provides a new understanding of the culture of exploration of the time. The article pays particular attention to two groups of emotions: first, those related to fear, an emotion that Charcot initially was reluctant to say that he had experienced (his position changed under the influence of journalists who saw the emotion as an interesting selling point); and second, anger and hate, emotions that were deemed inappropriate and were omitted from hidden in published accounts of the expedition, even though they appear in other sources.

Although “urban” and “fisheries” are not commonly paired in the analyses of either urbanism or fisheries governance, today’s large-scale fisheries are often closely organised in connection with cities. In this paper, I build on a feminist perspective and urban studies to examine the makings of a city through contemporary fisheries. Drawing upon observations and interviews conducted in Tromsø, Norway, which is a key site for Arctic fisheries, I review how fish and fisheries are simultaneously made visible and invisible in urban spheres. By analysing the gendered structures and valuations that organise the city–fisheries relations, I introduce three “fishy” windows to demonstrate the kinds of development and future pathways for fisheries that are considered relevant and rational in and for the city. In particular, I discuss how the historical, techno-masculine narratives of mastering Arctic nature frame and legitimise fisheries practices as they expand throughout Tromsø. The study builds on the emerging research on Arctic urbanism to highlight the need to better integrate gendered analyses of the “urban” into social science research on natural resource extraction.

The linkages between the Arctic and the rest of the world have become more profound and the region is increasingly attracting attention, also from non-Arctic state actors. Parallel to this development, the discussion about the future Arctic is taking place in various arenas, forums and among an increasing number of actors with interest in the region. At a time of high tension in international relations, and an increased likelihood of spill-over to Arctic cooperation, issues of governance of the Arctic region are potentially at stake. This makes it important that scholars are accurate in their analyses; confusing the mandate, responsibilities and purposes of different arenas for cooperation can be unfortunate. This article finds support in the literature on regime complexes and aims to show and analyse the differences between three key players in the Arctic: the Arctic Council, Arctic Frontiers and the Arctic Circle Assembly. In addition to exploring their differences, we ask what role these entities play in shaping policy in and for the Arctic. From mapping out the mandates, roles and responsibilities of the Arctic Council, Arctic Frontiers and Arctic Circle Assembly, and by nuancing their formal and informal aspects, we aim to contribute to clarifying misunderstandings regarding their functions and positions vis-à-vis each other.