The Two Arctics: Soviet Environmental Experiences and Socialist Realism in the Far North (Part I)
The world’s northernmost Lenin statue stands in the now-abandoned former mining town of Pyramiden on Svalbard. Comparing Pyramiden and the Siberian city of Norilsk can offer valuable insights into the Soviet Arctic reality, versus the socialist realist myth of Arctic development. Photo: Christopher Michel
At first glance, it may seem that Pyramiden and Norilsk have little in common. Both cities are in the Arctic, but Pyramiden is located outside the Soviet empire proper, built in a fjord on the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard by Swedish miners as a result of the Svalbard Treaty of 1920 before the town was bought by the Soviet Union. Norilsk is deep inside the Siberian tundra, built in the 1930s with the use of Gulag forced labor. Although Pyramiden was officially a coal mining settlement, it served largely symbolic and geopolitical purposes for the Soviet Union, as a representation of Communism in the West, and the industrial efforts there were not profitable, so it was subsidized by the state for the town’s entire lifespan until its demise in the late 1990s. Norilsk started as a forced labor camp in the middle of nowhere, but grew into an industrial monster that is now the world’s largest stationary emitter of sulfur dioxide.1) Today the enterprises in Norilsk are the world’s biggest producers of nickel and palladium, whose profits comprise more than two percent of the Russian GDP.2)
It may seem unreasonable to compare these two Soviet locales given their stark differences in origin, economic output, geographical location, and use. Yet a comparison of the cities can offer meaningful insights into two Arctic environmental experiences at work in the Soviet Union: idealism and symbolism versus reality. Both experiences were important components of Soviet socialist realism as it was applied to the Arctic. While Pyramiden was lauded as a socialist Arctic utopia and provisioned lavishly to show Western rivals the grandeur of the Soviet Union, Norilsk was built on the bones of prisoners, but this fact was covered up in official discourse practically until the fall of the Soviet system. Norilsk is a major industrial center and was celebrated in Soviet papers for contributing to the building of socialism. It also polluted liberally, but this point was of course left unaddressed until the eco-glasnost years of the late 1980s, which were brought on by the Gorbachev administration’s policies of reform and openness.
This analysis seeks to compare Pyramiden and Norilsk to examine Soviet approaches towards the Arctic. By contrasting the symbolic role of Pyramiden with the resource-based existence of Norilsk, the paper argues that there were multiple experiences at work in the Soviet north, which were equally important in constructing Arctic socialist realism. Pyramiden existed primarily as a bastion of Soviet civilization abroad and an external symbol that was used to demonstrate the power of the Soviet system to the rest of the world. Built in the Western Arctic, in the domain of Norway, one of the Soviet state’s capitalist enemies, the city was accessible to Westerners and was often frequented by Norwegians, so it was imperative that the locale appeared well-stocked and orderly. Additionally, Pyramiden and the other Russian settlements on Svalbard served as a Soviet foothold in the Western Arctic, in an area that was deemed to be of strategic importance during World War II and the Cold War.3) The situation in Norilsk was markedly different, but the city was still celebrated as a major contributor in the building of socialism domestically, as seen in historical newspaper articles. This paper seeks to explore Soviet approaches towards the north, the environment, modernity and industry, as they apply to the experience in these two cities, during the Soviet and post-Soviet eras.
The Arctic in Soviet socialist realism
Pyramiden and Norilsk were created by the Soviet state in the 1930s after centuries of Russian Arctic development – the former town, a symbol of Communism abroad, and the latter, a representation of Stalinist brute force and dominance of nature for the purpose of rapid industrialization.
Since Muscovite times, the Arctic has been a source of both economic and symbolic pride for the Russian state. Over one-fourth of Russia’s landmass is located in the Arctic or sub-Arctic regions,4) and today, twenty percent of the Russian GDP comes from north of the Arctic Circle,5) and ninety-five percent of the gas reserves, as well as seventy-five percent of the oil reserves are located above the sixtieth parallel north.6) Through Soviet industrialization efforts, the Russian Arctic became the most populous northern region in the world.7) Like its Soviet predecessor, the Russian state today has invested billions into Arctic development and planned large-scale “Promethean” projects in the north, carrying on a tradition of Arctic advancement that has existed for centuries.8) Russian Arctic exploration dates back to the sixteenth century, when expeditions were organized to look for valuable natural resources in the north.9) Arctic economic development increased exponentially during the Soviet period, when the quest for natural resources was deemed the most effective way to realize the Communist project and turn the Soviet Union into an industrial and military superpower.10) Under Vladimir Lenin, the first leader of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) and especially under Joseph Stalin, who was Lenin’s successor and a notoriously harsh ruler, prisoners were sent to remote Gulag forced labor camps to extract resources, which were to be used to transform the Soviet Union into a modern nation.11) Many of the camps, including the one in Norilsk (which was called Norillag), eventually transitioned into industrial cities which still operate to this day. Indeed, some scholars have argued that Stalin, who was fascinated by the Arctic, saw it as an ideal place to demonstrate the Soviet mastery over nature.12)
The Arctic was not only a source of economic might, but an important component of Russia’s national narrative. Sixteenth-century Russian literature romanticized the Arctic, describing it as a space of power and purity, often in religious terms.13) The Arctic was also portrayed as a space of unity for the Russian people, and even referred to as the country’s future by the great Russian scientist, Mikhail Lomonosov.14) Despite this fascination for the North, the Russian Arctic was always treated as a separate entity – ne nash (not ours) – a space to be colonized and exploited, not a place to live.15) The explanation for this particular conceptualization of the Russian Arctic likely stems from Russian perceptions of and attitudes towards Siberia, which, like the Arctic, was simultaneously seen as a land of opportunity but also a land of darkness populated by uncivilized hordes. Both Siberia and the Arctic (whose boundaries are not clearly demarcated and tend to overlap) have historically been viewed as vital to Russia’s nationhood, “where Russia’s might will begin to grow,”16) but they have also been treated as backwards and unruly due to the sparsely populated landscape, the “savage” wilderness, and the populations of Indigenous peoples who live there.17) As such, a fascinating and contradictory duality emerges which has been extensively examined by scholars.
The question of what drove Russians to occupy Siberia has been the subject of vigorous historiographical debate. It is evident that the Muscovite expansion eastward was sustained by the hunt for furs, which were sold to international markets and contributed to a significant portion of the tsarist economy.18) Indeed, the hunt for “soft gold” led the Russians to gallop across the continent to the Pacific Ocean over the span of the seventeenth century, barely one hundred years after their initial incursion into Siberia.19) This frenzied hunt for furs led Siberia to become a “fur colony,” but aside from extracting hundreds of thousands of pelts from the region annually, little efforts were made to develop the region or interact with the people there.
During the early modern era, Russians did not consider themselves particularly European, and they were largely disinterested in “civilizing” Siberia.20) Yet the state’s relationship with Siberia was based in colonial thinking and rhetoric. Cartographers of the time, such as Semen Remezov, argued that the region had been given to Russia by God, and it was the destiny and right of the state to take it.21)
These positive feelings did not last. By 1700 the supply of furs was dwindling,22) and the resulting economic downturn coincided with Peter I’s reforms, which introduced European Enlightenment values across the empire and portrayed Western civilization as the ideal.23) As such, regions farther from Europe were considered dark and uncivilized. These changes caused Russians to regard Siberia with contempt and see it for the first time as the “Other.” Similar to the Arctic, Siberia became key in defining Russian identity and Russianness in general, as European Russians struggled to articulate exactly what separated them from Siberia. Contrary to Western European colonies, which were separated from their rulers by entire oceans, Russia’s colony was attached to it, making it difficult to distinguish where Russia ended and the colony began.24) In the 1730s, the continental line of delineation was changed, moving from the Don River east to the Ural Mountains, which definitively cut off the Asian continent and made it easier both geographically and theoretically to separate the “civilized” realm of Europe with the perceived darkness of Asia.25) As such, the othering of Siberia and by extension the Arctic was used to explore “what makes a Russian Russian” and reflected Russian “anxieties about culture, race, colonization, and the meaning of Russianness.”26) In this way, the regions were used by the Russian state as spaces against which it could measure and define its own Russianness.27) Therefore, discourses on the Russian North have historically involved a contradictory duality – a land of backwardness, populated by “dark” people, but also a region rife with valuable natural resources that could propel the country to greatness.
This tension between center and periphery continued into the Soviet period, as the state constructed heroic myths about the Arctic, while struggling to Sovietize the Indigenous populations there, and also gain control of unruly operations run by prisoners and incompetent officials. Under Stalin in particular, “no economic plan was too ambitious, no ethnic group too backward, and no climate too severe,” wrote Yuri Slezkine, a scholar of Soviet history.28) These efforts effectively created two Arctics and two Arctic environmental experiences – the real one, which was initially populated mostly by Soviet prisoners and plagued by poor living conditions, crime, and accidents, and the imagined one described in Soviet myths of Arctic acquisition and osvoyeniye (development) – the land of the future.29) The Arctic myth was specifically crafted by the highest state officials, including Stalin himself, and was a key component of Soviet socialist realism, a philosophical and cultural approach which blurred the lines between fantasy and reality.30) Some scholars argue that the Arctic myth was used to capture the imaginations of the people and distract them from the “abuses of the (Soviet) regime”.31)
This is the context in which Pyramiden and Norilsk emerged – one carefully cultivated by the Soviet state as a representation of socialism in the West, and the other a dumping ground for “enemy elements” deep in the Siberian tundra, where prisoners were forced to dig for natural resources in the permafrost.32)
Pyramiden and the Arctic myth
Although Pyramiden’s existence was visibly centered around a rudnik, a mine, and it was managed by the Soviet state-owned company called Trust Arktikugol, it was not an ordinary monocity, and in theoretical terms, its purpose was only loosely connected with resource extraction. The main business in Pyramiden was coal mining, but the Soviet industry on the Norwegian territory of Svalbard was unprofitable for the majority of the twentieth century, entirely contradicting the concept of a monocity.33) While many remote industrial cities in the Soviet Union were conceptualized as distant islands far from the “mainland” of Moscow and southern Russia, especially if the residents had been forced there by Gulag labor,34) Pyramiden was not only figuratively, but also literally and physically removed from the Soviet Union – perched on the Norwegian archipelago, it was more than 1,000 kilometers north of the northernmost city in European Russia, Murmansk. Furthermore, living standards in Pyramiden were markedly superior to those on the Russian mainland as the city was stocked and cultivated to appear utopic and present the Soviet Union in a positive light to the rest of the world.35)
The Soviet incursion into Svalbard is a product of the Svalbard Treaty of 1920. Ownership of Svalbard has historically been disputed and remains a controversial issue to this day, as the islands have no Indigenous population and the region has seen competition from English, Dutch, Spanish, French, Danish, Norwegian, German, Swedish and Russian whalers and fishers since the fifteenth century.36) Soviet newspaper sources claimed in the 1980s that Russian Pomors, a northern population originating near Murmansk and Novaya Zemlya, hunted and fished in the region since the eighteenth century, and were the only year-round inhabitants of the islands at this time.37) It is possible that this assertion is politically motivated, as the Russians have historically argued that they have a claim to Svalbard just as much as Norway.
The Soviet Union bought the mining towns of Pyramiden and Barentsburg from Swedish and Dutch mining companies respectively. Pyramiden was named by the Swedes after the triangle shaped mountain behind the town.38) The towns were founded in the 1910s and 1920s and came under the ownership of Soviet state-owned company Trust Arktikugol in the 1930s.39) The Soviet state decided to extract coal from the archipelago in 1931.40) The mine there was constructed in 1939, along with several city amenities, but this development was interrupted by the Second World War. Construction continued in the 1940s after the war, and the mine was finally opened in 1956.41)
It is important to note that while the Russian settlements eventually became heavily subsidized and started to serve an entirely political and strategic purpose for the Soviet Union, they were initially developed as purely economic ventures. During the interwar period, Svalbard was not “in the scope of the Soviet Union’s military-strategic considerations,” but served as a major source of coal for Russia’s northern regions.42) In the early decades of the Soviet era, there was no rail connection between the Kola Peninsula and the rest of the country, so the coal shipments from Svalbard fulfilled the important purpose of providing energy to the northern cities in that region.43)
Nonetheless, World War II changed this perspective, when the Soviet state realized the military significance of controlling the Barents Sea between Svalbard and the Norwegian mainland – a move that would be critical for securing the safe passage of its Murmansk fleet to the Atlantic Ocean, and also respond to America’s growing military presence in Greenland and Iceland.44) A Soviet base on Svalbard would “make it possible for the Soviets to strike targets in the USA five to ten years earlier than they would otherwise have been able to do,” wrote Norwegian historian Sven Holtsmark.45) Efforts were made by the Soviet government to pressure the Norwegians into renegotiating the Svalbard Treaty and creating a more advantageous agreement for the Soviet Union in the years immediately following the war.
Holtsmark describes a 1944 negotiation between the Soviet Commissar of Foreign Affairs, Vyacheslav Molotov, and the Norwegians, in which the former pushed for dual ownership of the archipelago, the installation of a military base there, and territorial rights to Bear Island — the southernmost tip of the archipelago, located approximately halfway between Svalbard and the Norwegian mainland.46) Holtsmark argues that by 1947 the Norwegians were prepared to appease the Soviets to avoid facing even harsher demands from the latter, but this plan was thwarted when Norway joined NATO, and the Cold War began.47)
If well-designed and provisioned Pyramiden was designed to invoke envy among the Soviet Union’s capitalist enemies as a socialist utopia in the Arctic, then it can be said that the plan was successful. While Svalbard’s Norwegian residents (based primarily in the Norwegian coal town of Longyearbyen) travelled on skis and dog sleds, the Russians had four helicopters on the archipelago. Most Norwegian food and products were flown in from the mainland, but the Soviet settlements were almost entirely self-sufficient.48) There was also a Soviet-style stolovaya (cafeteria) for the miners and other workers, which had a beautiful mosaic of the Arctic (featuring green and purple northern lights, ice floes, and a polar bear), a swimming pool, and a gym, as well as dozens of Khrushchevka-style apartment blocs for the workers to live in, which replicated apartment designs on the Russian mainland in an effort to combat homesickness among the residents. The settlements had provisions for the workers’ families, who could join them on the archipelago for extended periods of time, such as schools and daycares. Hein Bjerck, an archeologist at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology, said “Pyramiden was a very, very good place to be, compared to the mainland,” in an interview in May 2018.49)
But the prosperity was artificially constructed, being heavily subsidized by the state, and it could not last. When the Soviet Union collapsed, its utopic dream on Svalbard died with it. When the economy crashed in the 1990s, many industrial towns on the Russian mainland were bankrupted, and the populations they sustained faced joblessness, deindustrialization, and general hopelessness. Trust Arktikugol was no different. The mining operations on Svalbard were unprofitable and therefore unsustainable, and the company couldn’t afford to keep things running there. In 1990, the 2,407 Russians on Svalbard outnumbered the 1,125 Norwegians nearly 2.5 to 1.50) Near the end of the decade, less than a third of the Russians were left, and the population eventually dwindled down to the approximately 500 Russian workers still there today, who mainly live in Barentsburg.51) In 1998, Trust Arktikugol decided to abandon Pyramiden, and the last coal was extracted from the mine on March 31. By the fall of that year, the town had been forsaken.52) “Each time we came there were fewer and fewer people. Every time there was a boat or helicopter, people left with their small backpacks,” said Norwegian scholar Hein Bjerck, who was working on Svalbard during the 1990s, in a 2018 interview. “The Russian government wanted to keep a presence there, but they didn’t have any money. The coal company tried to make ends meet.”53)
Although Svalbard doesn’t serve a strategic military purpose for Russia in the 21st century,54) leaving the archipelago would represent a huge loss of face for the Russian government, signifying that their predecessors were wrong to develop settlements there.55) The Russian settlements on Svalbard, inherited from the Soviet Union, can be examined in the framework of power politics, and consequently, taking a step back would be equivalent to a reduction of Russian power. The settlements are presented as a colony, something that only great powers can invest in and maintain, and serve to project Russia’s Arctic might outside of the mainland.56) As with its Communist predecessor, having a foothold in the Western Arctic gives Russia an opportunity to use the settlements to represent itself to the West and in the West.57) Indeed, Russian officials explicitly oppose the idea of abandoning the archipelago, as it would be seen as a step back from the Soviet exploits. Alexander Veselov, the director of Trust Arktikugol (which continues to operate on the archipelago, and is still owned by the state), said in a March 2019 interview that Pyramiden must be preserved because it is “a historical monument to the Soviet Union’s conquest of the Arctic,” and to “Soviet history.”58)
While Soviet history may be preserved in the form of the abandoned Pyramiden, there is no doubt that the town’s abandonment and the economic ruin (which impacted Arctic regions especially hard) proliferating all across Russia during the 1990s tarnished the idealised vision of the Soviet Arctic dream. What is left is the reality, which is characterized by industrial cities facing deindustrialization, environmental degradation, and modern problems in the post-Soviet period. Not all cities were deindustrialized, as many enterprises centered around “core industries” such as mining and metallurgy have flourished in the post-Soviet economy because they are “vertically integrated, oligarch owned, and internationally competitive.”59) An excellent example of this is the Siberian Arctic city of Norilsk, which was founded as a Gulag labor camp, and grew into a massive smelting city that contributed significantly to Soviet metals production. Today it is home to Norilsk Nickel (also called NorNickel), which is one of the world’s largest metals processing companies. Since the fall of the Soviet Union, Norilsk has seen incredible economic growth, but also grappled with major environmental degradation stemming from decades of poorly regulated smelting activity.
Part II, and the case of Norilsk, Russia can be read here.
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