By 1959 the Cold War and the space race were well under way. In September of that year, a Soviet spacecraft became the first to touch down on the moon. Washington was jolted again the next month when the Russians took the first photographs of the moon’s dark side. The superpowers were jockeying for supremacy in places near and far. Even Antarctica had become a potential hotspot.

At the southern end of the world, Antarctica had been the subject of various claims for years, with even the question of who saw it first, in 1820, up for debate – was it the Russians, the British or an American? With the race to the South Pole “won” in 1911, by Norway’s Roald Amundsen, explorers from various countries scoped parts of the region and by the 1950s seven nations had staked formal (in some cases, overlapping) territorial claims.

But as well as politics, there was another force at work – science. In a thawing of divisions, the governments of more than 60 nations had allowed their scientists to co-operate on a massive study of the Earth and its planetary surrounds for International Geophysical Year in 1957-58.

The polar regions were a focus – especially the mysterious Antarctica. Scientists from countries including Australia, New Zealand, the United States and Russia led the way in putting everything from cosmic rays to glaciology, penguins to the aurora australis under the microscope. The US military support operation for its scientists was codenamed Operation Deep Freeze.

As groundbreaking discoveries ensued, US president Dwight Eisenhower proposed a means by which “this same kind of co-operation for the benefit of all mankind shall be perpetuated”. Just two months after Russia snapped those pictures of the moon, the Antarctic Treaty was signed by a dozen countries in Washington. Now more than 60 years old, it has become a storied model of international co-operation with more than 50 signatories, from Argentina to Uruguay, Austria to Mongolia.

But what do nations want in Antarctica? What are the rules? And what are the points of tensions in the coldest, windiest place on Earth?

Who owns Antarctica?

The world’s fifth-largest continent is one of those realms, as with outer space and the deep sea, that is owned by no nation and where ambiguity is the order of the day. Contrary to the idea that it has been carved up like an icy pie, slices of the continent were claimed at various times by seven countries – Australia, New Zealand, Chile, Argentina, Britain, Norway and France – before the Antarctic Treaty was ever signed.

Some claims, such as those of Argentina, Chile and Britain, overlap. All claims were frozen in time when the Antarctic Treaty entered into force, although, to complicate matters, not all countries recognise them. Russia and the United States, both present at the treaty negotiations, each said they had the basis of a claim which they had not asserted – but they reserved the right to do so in the future. But the freeze remains in place: countries coming on board later, such as China, which joined in 1983, do so on the proviso that activities they conduct in Antarctica cannot constitute the basis of a claim later on.

One country can be present on another country’s claim. There are now more than 30 nations operating across the claims (as well as in an unclaimed slice). The largest territory, Australia’s, which covers 42 per cent of the continent, is the site of three main permanent Australian stations (Mawson, Casey and Davis). But it also hosts year-round stations of the US (one), Russia (three), China (one), France and Italy (one shared) and India (one), plus seasonal stations, including for Belarus and Poland. Australian laws apply on its claim but only to Australian nationals.

“Australia’s Antarctica estate, including the land claim and the 200-mile nautical zone [a product of having the land claim], is about 8 million square kilometres,” says Dr Julia Jabour from the Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies at the University of Tasmania. “They are not going to give it up – because in the future, some time, they may want to inhabit it or to exclude others who use resources there. Each claimant would have a similar reason for wanting to maintain their claim.”

Conversely, in not recognising any claims, the US and Russia’s positions would be that “they want to claim the lot – maybe or maybe not – at some point in the future”. China, meanwhile, has five stations in Antarctica now, its latest built on Inexpressible Island in the Ross Sea. This might be strengthening its position for the future but “whenever China builds another base it’s reported as ‘staking a claim’ in Antarctica and, legally, that’s simply not the case,” says Jabour.

How do nations actually operate in Antarctica then?

“Surprisingly short but remarkably effective” is how the British Antarctic Survey describes the treaty. It not only headed off conflict over territorial claims but “poured cold water on any militarisation that might have occurred,” says former Australian Antarctic Division head Dr Tony Press.

“Its simplicity is one of its strengths,” says Press, an adjunct professor in the Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies at the University of Tasmania. “It sets aside the whole of the area below 60 degrees south as a place of peace and co-operation.”

As well as prohibiting “nuclear explosions”, the treaty says scientists and their discoveries should be shared among nations in Antarctica. That spirit has largely endured, says Press, who says the atmosphere down south is “very international, very open, very warm”. “Most countries, particularly in a wide, open area like East Antarctica, actually rely on the logistics of others.”

Engineers, mechanics, chefs, meteorologists, doctors, tradies and others live at the stations, which have “research laboratories, medical facilities, powerhouses, stores and workshops,” says the current Antarctic Division director, Kim Ellis. There were 70 people living on Australia’s bases during the winter of 2020 (19 more at a station on subantarctic Macquarie Island), he says. While smaller crews weather the extreme cold and dark over winter, in summer there is usually an influx of as many as 500 summer expeditioners.

The treaty also says scientific personnel and their discoveries in Antarctica should be shared among nations. That spirit of co-operation has largely endured, says Press, who describes the atmosphere as “very international, very open, very warm”. “Most countries, particularly in a wide, open area like East Antarctica, actually rely on the logistics of others,” he says.

Meanwhile, the treatment of animal occupants of the area, such as seals and minuscule krill, and the ice and waters themselves are dealt with in other agreements, including the Madrid Protocol for protecting the Antarctic environment, under what’s called the Antarctic Treaty System.

So, no military activity?

“It is a demilitarised area,” says Press, in so far as military manoeuvres are banned, military conflict is banned, the testing of weapons is banned as are military bases and any “measures of a military nature”. What is not banned is the use of military personnel or equipment “for scientific research or for any other peaceful purposes”.

“Satellite technology is now central to Antarctic operations and research,” notes Anthony Bergin, a senior fellow at the Australian Strategic Policy Institute (ASPI), in a commissioned by the Australian and French governments in 2019. “The inland environment of Antarctica is optically very clear and ideally suited for astronomic and space research. It is also remarkably quiet, with little human radio interference.

“With technological developments in information processing, nanotechnologies and astrophysics, research is now possible in Antarctica that was inconceivable in past years. Much of that research also has military applications.”

How does anyone know what goes on behind closed doors? Under the treaty, each of the 29 countries regarded as “consultative” – those whose presence in Antarctica has qualified them to be involved in decision-making – has an unfettered right to inspect another country’s activities and facilities. “Now, whether that’s been done well enough, often enough and comprehensively enough – that’s a question many could ask,” says Press. “Inspections are expensive, logistically difficult – those sort of things play into why every facility in Antarctica isn’t inspected every two years.”

Australia has carried out 10 inspections since 1963. Its most extensive to date was in early 2020 with a team led by Ellis flying 10,000 kilometres to six stations, including Germany’s Gondwana. “We were the first team to inspect four of the stations,” says Ellis of South Korea’s Jang Bogo, China’s Inexpressible Island and Taishan and Belarus’s Mountain Evening. “These are all relatively new. [Russia’s] Molodezhnaya has not been inspected on the ground since 1983.”

There were no surprises for the Australian team, says Ellis; they were impressed by some “renewable energy installations, ambitious scientific and operational achievements in difficult environments, clean-up of past wastes and adaptive re-use of older buildings – and the commitment to high environmental standards.”

As well as being inspected, nations must report equipment and personnel they’re using. “Most countries do report,” says Press, “but how good that reporting is, how transparent and comprehensive, is something that’s up for discussion.”

But what do nations want in Antarctica?

Mining may be big in the Arctic but in Antarctica it has been banned indefinitely since the Madrid Protocol came into effect in 1998. Still, the presence of minerals may be a scintillating prospect for some nations, especially if melting ice leaves more land exposed. (“If you want to find out what minerals there are in Antarctica, just look at Australia,” says Press, who points out the two continents were once joined.) Bergin describes the ban as “a long-term investment that will require assertive diplomacy to maintain”.

In the 1980s, when the prospect of mining in Antarctica was raised, Malaysian leader Mahathir Mohamad launched a rare challenge to the treaty in the United Nations. He argued on behalf of the G77 coalition of developing nations that instead of the continent being run by a “select group” of states, all territorial claims should be surrendered and the UN given control under a new treaty. Treaty nations responded that the existing claims created a balance that kept tensions in check.

“Mahathir accused the treaty of being an old boys’ club and being secretive – and he was absolutely right,” says Jabour.

Malaysia was subsequently invited to treaty meetings and its scientists sponsored by Australia, New Zealand and the US on expeditions before it finally joined the treaty in 2011. Other relatively recent joiners include Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Pakistan, Portugal and Iceland, who are non-consultative members like Malaysia – they go to meetings but are not formally involved in making decisions.

More of a current going concern is bio-prospecting – leveraging the remarkable qualities of Antarctic species of creatures and micro-organisms to make drugs. Once a micro-organism is found, synthetic versions can be made in laboratories. In the 1960s, anti-freeze proteins, for example, were discovered in a family of fish called notothenioids that thrive in sub-zero waters.

The view from Russian icebreaker Akademik Ioffe. Source: Adventures All Around, 2015.

“Fishing” is another lure – and source of tension. “Antarctic krill is a resource that will most likely become the centre of increased exploitation well before any push to overturn the prohibition on mining,” says Bergin. Norway as well as South Korea and China are among the biggest catchers of krill; whales, seals, penguins, seabirds and other fish rely on them for food but they are also very good for people. China is among nations boosting its ability to haul in the omega-3-rich crustaceans, with one firm having launched what it says is the world’s biggest purpose-built krill-fishing vessel, with state-of-the-art freezing technology.

Marine life, from fin fish to molluscs, has been protected under the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources since 1982, which doesn’t rule out fishing but says it must be done sustainably. Krill catch limits are regulated under the convention as is the creation of “marine protected areas” – China and Russia have consistently opposed bids to create new ones, blocking moves at meetings that require consensus for proposals to pass.

For many of us, the allure of Antarctica is clear. Tourism had been steadily on the rise, with adventurers from the United States, China, Australia and beyond attracted by the majestic scenery, exotic creatures and frontier frisson. Before the pandemic, visitors ticking the continent off their bucket lists numbered around 56,000 a year, according to figures from the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators. Tourism was put on hold, of course, when the coronavirus pandemic took hold – although not before port closures left some returning vessels stranded – but even so, by 2019-20, visitor numbers were up to more than 74,000.

Tiny Antarctic krill are big business for humans. Source: Oceanities

What’s next?

No treaty is immune from politics. One of the fears of the consultative parties to the Antarctic treaty is that “the new kids on the block” will come in with “completely different norms, completely different ideas about the intent and the value of the treaty … and that will shake up everything,” says Jabour. Press cites Beijing and Moscow’s objections to proposals for marine protected areas as examples of pressure points. If what he characterises as “stalling” over these plans becomes entrenched, “that poses a problem for the overwhelming majority of Antarctic Treaty partners because it means one or two thwart the good intentions of the collective”.

Bergin, meanwhile, warns of the dangers of complacency and benign neglect. “States participating in the Antarctic Treaty System are operating under global conditions of uncertainty,” he says. “That puts a premium on establishing systems that can adapt to changing circumstances ... in an area of the world that is of critical importance to understanding the wider global environmental system.”

The stakes could not be higher. The biggest physical threat facing Antarctica is climate change – a global problem that the continent offers a box seat to understand. “We are learning every day more and more about the impacts,” says Jabour. “We’ve identified the sea temperature rise and air temperature rise, ocean acidification, the reduction of sea ice and land ice. That science is really valuable and it legitimises scientists being in Antarctica.”

This article was first published in 2019 and has since been updated to reflect developments.