The frontier is the front line: On climate resilience for infrastructure and supplies in Canada’s Arctic
Prime Minister Mark Carney’s victory in the May 2025 elections provides a clearer picture of Canada’s political future and strategic priorities. During the election campaign, Carney emphasized bolstering defense spending and increasing Canada’s presence, awareness, and infrastructure footprint in the Arctic. As Carney seeks to achieve these stated ends, he will contend with a strategic environment that looks more dangerous for Ottawa than at any time since the end of the Cold War. And he will likely struggle to reconcile the strategic importance of the Arctic with the cost of developing the infrastructure required to secure it. But as the ice retreats, so too do the barriers that once insulated Canada’s Arctic.
The frontier has become the front line.
Canada’s choice is binary: secure its portion of the Arctic or suffer the consequences of foreign powers acting with impunity in and around Canada’s Arctic. Ottawa’s central challenge, therefore, is to harden its Arctic presence with dual-use infrastructure and supply chain resilience while hostile powers increase their influence around the pole.
This task gets more difficult the longer Ottawa dithers because change manifests across many vectors concurrently. The infrastructure and supply chains critical to the region are underdeveloped and ill-suited for the future—and they do not improve with age. Climate change continues to alter the contours of the region, often to Canada’s strategic disadvantage. An ascendant generation of US strategists proclaim that the Canadian Arctic is the “new soft underbelly” of North America. And it is no longer fantasy to suggest that the Arctic is ground zero for the new ‘Great Game’ between the United States, Russia, and China.
The region has been one of strategic contest since 1921, when Joseph Stalin claimed the North Pole for the Soviet Union, a claim re-animated by Moscow in 2015. It may lack the trenches and dragon’s teeth in Europe, or the clashes between fishing vessels and coast guard ships in southeast Asia. But the Arctic is no longer a low-threat, low-force posture environment that can be defended by a couple Coast Guard icebreakers and some Canadian Rangers on snowmobiles.
It is a region of strategic consequence and likely to be more so in the coming decades, which begs the question—why does Canada lag allies and adversaries alike in both the defense and development of its Arctic territory?
The simplistic answer is that Ottawa is torn among competing interests and an inability, or an unwillingness, to marshal the domestic resources necessary to protect its Arctic from a growing cast of players keen to exploit perceived vulnerabilities in pursuit of their interests.
The Atlantic Council delved deeper into Canada’s challenge to bolster infrastructure and supply chain resilience in the region. Research included literature reviews, interviews, and off-the-record conversations with a broad range of government and private-sector stakeholders. Interviews yielded constructive, if passionate, views from respondents who expressed repeatedly how much they want Canada to secure its part of the Arctic and enable its full development.
Analysis revealed that Ottawa knows the region well; the Canadian government has few peers in understanding the Arctic and what is required to right supply chains there. Geological surveys and development plans are completed to a gold standard. Stakeholders know the problem and solution space—and have for decades. But domestic policy, not climate change or geopolitical calculus, is the primary factor influencing strategic decisions for Canada’s north.
Key players (and honorable mentions)
Climate change has made the Arctic accessible. Glacier melting has created new sea routes, extended shipping seasons, and unveiled vast natural resources. But it has also created an opening in the region for strategic contest. Three threat vectors shape the region’s security dynamics for Canada.
Russia
More than half of the Arctic Circle’s population and half its economy are Russian. Russia sits at the end of one of the Arctic’s most accessible regions. Russia is opening old bases and building new infrastructure throughout the region. It holds more than 50 percent of Arctic investment (made between 2017 and 2022), and its military doctrine treats the north as central to economic and national defense. Since 2014, the Kremlin has launched Cold War-style investments in Arctic airfields, radar systems, submarine networks, and year-round basing. Russian military planners are considering anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) domes extending over the Northern Sea Route.
Moscow likely observes that Canadian defense planning remains rooted in an outdated peace dividend mindset—one that grossly underestimates the threat of state-on-state conflict in the Arctic. Canada’s lack of comprehensive undersea surveillance renders its Arctic maritime approaches effectively blind, and its military presence in the region—symbolized by a modest footprint of Canadian Rangers—leaves much to be desired in terms of deterrence or rapid response. Equipment remains outdated, modernization plans languish in bureaucratic limbo, and logistics chains are stretched perilously thin. These gaps create space for Russian forces to maneuver below the threshold of war, exploiting ambiguity and Canada’s limited detection capabilities to assert influence or project force unchallenged.
The Kremlin likes to see how Canada’s strategic dependence on the United States substitutes alliance commitments for genuine sovereign deterrence. Ottawa’s whole-of-government approach—while inclusive in theory—has fragmented decision-making in practice, rendering Canada slow and reactive at a time when speed and coherence are strategic advantages. Indigenous consultation, while legally and morally necessary, remains procedurally rigid and politicized, often becoming a brake on critical national security decisions rather than a channel for partnership and empowerment.
While Russia invests heavily in its Arctic capabilities, Canada’s Arctic capability is stuck in the twentieth century. Surveillance assets are aging, space-based platforms are insufficient, and investment in modern ISR (intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance) technology remains anemic. Communications remain unreliable across vast regions, exposing both civilian and military systems to disruption. Cyber defenses—especially around critical infrastructure—are poorly funded and unevenly deployed, inviting adversaries to strike via code rather than missile.
China
China considers itself a “near-Arctic power” and its Polar Silk Road links Arctic shipping to its global Belt and Road ambitions. China’s white papers frame the region as a commons to be commercially and scientifically accessed. Icebreaker construction in Chinese shipyards matches the tempo of a nation preparing for permanent presence.
Beijing understands that Canada’s economic infrastructure in the Arctic is brittle. Melting permafrost, seasonal reliance on ice roads, and a near-total absence of deepwater ports make northern logistics vulnerable to both climate and conflict. These choke points offer asymmetric opportunities to disrupt supply chains or sabotage dual-use facilities. China could exploit these vulnerabilities by embedding itself through ostensibly civilian investments in Arctic mining, telecommunications, or transportation infrastructure—investments that are strategic positioning by other means. In such a fragile environment, any hybrid attack or technological failure could sever vital arteries with catastrophic effects.
From China’s vantage point, Canada’s Arctic declarations are noble but hollow—bold in language but weak in execution. For Beijing, which has increased defense spending every year for three decades, Canada’s plan to reach two percent of gross domestic product (GDP) on defense spending by 2030 is symbolic. Procurement remains tangled in inefficiency and overregulation, hampering modernization and undermining operational readiness. Economic pressures, shifting political winds, and lukewarm support for military spending are likely to derail Canada’s commitments before they mature. Moreover, China likely sees Canada’s overreliance on its NATO allies as a strategic liability. The Arctic can be probed or pressured just below NATO’s collective defense thresholds—ensuring ambiguity, diffusing Western resolve, and highlighting Canada’s limited unilateral options.
Manpower shortages, insufficient Arctic basing, and the long-delayed Nanisivik port all point to structural underinvestment in hard infrastructure. These gaps offer Beijing a rich menu of asymmetric opportunities to: subvert Arctic economies through proxy investments; cultivate cultural ties through scholarships, research partnerships, and diplomatic outreach; sabotage digital and physical infrastructure through cyberattacks or dependency entrapments; and sow political dissent by financing Indigenous, environmental, or anti-militarization movements within Canada’s own democratic fabric.
The United States (and others)
For Washington, Canada’s failure to defend its Arctic territory is not merely a function of limited resources, but of deliberate strategic neglect. The refusal to acquire nuclear-powered submarines—essential for year-round under-ice patrols and true sovereignty enforcement—reveals a deeper aversion to the burdens of great power responsibility. While adversaries invest in undersea dominance and dual-use Arctic infrastructure, Ottawa opts for half-measures: diesel patrol submarines that can’t operate under the polar ice, minimal surveillance capabilities, and no permanent military basing north of 60.
The US view is shifting from a posture of “monitor and respond” to one of “prepare and deter.” Pentagon reports no longer downplay the Arctic as a region of strategic importance. Even smaller powers have taken notice. India published its Arctic strategy in 2021, emphasizing scientific diplomacy. Turkey signed the Svalbard Treaty to gain access rights to the Arctic in 2023. France and Germany are also exploring greater footprints in the region.
While the Icebreaker Collaboration Effort (ICE) Pact with Canada and Finland represents a trilateral effort to rebuild icebreaker capacity and harden the Arctic industrial base, it is not enough. Canada remains trapped in a peacetime posture and mentality—symbolic patrols and seasonal exercises—while the region becomes increasingly contested by powers that are, at best, are neutral to Canada’s concerns and, at worst, openly hostile to them.
This inertia is rooted in a political culture that prioritizes accommodation over assertiveness. Successive governments have deferred to progressive special interest groups whose influence blunts hard security policies. Environmentalist and Indigenous consultations, while important, are often weaponized procedurally to paralyze decisive action. The result is a government debilitated by process, one that speaks of sovereignty but shrinks from the instruments necessary to enforce it. Even modest defense initiatives face resistance if they challenge entrenched activist orthodoxies or require confronting Canada’s internal contradictions. This includes the legal quagmire of provincial and territorial jurisdiction in the North, which Ottawa remains unwilling to override or reform.
Perhaps most damning for Washington is Canada’s lack of strategic coherence. Ottawa provides a strategic framework for the Arctic but fails to dedicate the resources to achieve the objectives contained therein. Policy and strategy without resource commitments are unseriousness ideas. Moreover, Canada’s policies do not form a doctrine of Arctic deterrence, convey no idea on how to mobilize federal will, and fail to weave a unifying narrative that connects Arctic defense to the survival of Canada as a sovereign nation in an increasingly anarchic world.
America cannot—and will not—permit a soft underbelly to fester in a domain as critical as the Arctic. It is not inconceivable for US forces unilaterally securing parts of the Canadian Arctic in the event of a crisis. Such actions, while diplomatically uncomfortable, would be strategically necessary if Canadian gaps remain unaddressed. To be blunt: if pressed and in a fight with Russia or China in the Arctic, the US will almost certainly be “Elbows Up” in defense of North America, even if it offends Canadian sensitivities.
Five “cold kills”
Our research unearthed five factors that contribute to Canada’s Arctic inertia. Each of these “cold kills” continues to impede progress on increasing supply chain and defense resilience.
1. Lacking multipartisan consensus on the region as “ground zero” for a new “Great Game.”
Canada cannot do much in the Arctic if it lacks enduring political will to support and fund dual-use infrastructure over decades. The growing importance of the Arctic for great-power competition underscores the need for politicians, defense planners, local communities, industry partners, and other relevant stakeholders to walk in the same general direction, if not in lockstep. Despite the urgency of this task, no sustained, cross-partisan strategy for Arctic defense exists. Without it, investments, infrastructure development, and operational planning will almost certainly come up short. In 2025, Natural Resources Canada is projected to invest $12.1 million toward climate adaptation projects in the North—which is necessary, but insufficient when compared to similar efforts by other Arctic powers.
Yet, allies offer a contrast. Norway’s Arktis 2030 fund and its defense pledge of 3 percent of GDP underscore a whole-of-society approach. Finland’s NATO entry boosted its participation in Arctic exercises. Sweden utilizes Arctic data to create a stronger and better informed national defense policy. Denmark leverages Greenland’s geostrategic importance in its Arctic defense. While Canada’s Arctic is inaccessible by comparison, it can look at what NATO allies do right in the region and their whole-of-society approaches.
2. Placing too much of the strategic burden on local communities.
The Canadian government continues to place disproportionate responsibility for Arctic security on local communities, revealing a dangerous strategic asymmetry between rhetoric and capability. The Canadian Rangers, though a symbol of national resolve and cultural integration, are not a substitute for a modern, standing military presence. They are lightly armed, part-time volunteers—valuable in their knowledge of the land but structurally unfit to deter or respond to the increasing threats posed by adversarial state actors operating just beyond the line of sight. This over-reliance has created a strategic mirage: Ottawa appears engaged in Arctic defence, but the burden is unfairly borne by those with the fewest resources and the highest exposure.
In effect, Canada’s Arctic is not treated as an equal part of Confederation, but as a frontier outpost whose primary function is surveillance and symbolic sovereignty. The political imagination to raise Arctic communities to the standard of living of rural southern Canada is absent. There is no serious nation-building project underway—no long-term vision to tie infrastructure, broadband, energy, healthcare, and education in the North to the national grid of opportunity.
The region is home to significant deposits of iron ore, gold, diamonds, and rare earth elements. The Mary River Mine on Baffin Island is one of the world’s richest reserves of high-grade iron ore, producing millions of tons annually. Similarly, the Hope Bay and Meliadine gold mines contribute substantially to Canada’s mineral output. These resources are critical for economic development and for national security, given their importance in defense manufacturing and technology. Yet, the extraction and transportation of these resources are hampered by limited infrastructure that eludes further development due to lack of coordination and investment at all levels of government. While the Yukon Security Advisory Council can be a model for shared governance federal, territorial, and Indigenous jurisdictions overlap without coherent authority. The result is a bureaucratic bottleneck that limits response agility and accountability, especially in scenarios involving mass casualty events or foreign incursions below the threshold of war.
3. Misunderstanding the Arctic as a land- or maritime-centric domain, instead of a multidomain one.
Canada’s Arctic strategy remains anchored in a legacy mindset—fixated on land and maritime domains—while the battlespace has already expanded far beyond the ice and tundra. The Canadian Arctic is a multi-domain operating environment in the most rigorous sense: a crucible where air, sea, land, space, and cyberspace domains converge. Focusing primarily on ground mobility or maritime choke points is antiquated.
In an era defined by precision-guided conflict, gray zone incursions, and orbital competition, the North requires integrated deterrence across all domains. The space domain is already decisive; Russia and China have launched dual-use satellites optimized for polar reconnaissance, while Canada’s surveillance constellation remains limited and aging. Cyberspace, too, is an active front. Persistent foreign probing of Canada’s critical Arctic infrastructure—from power grids to fiber lines—underscores the need for zero-trust architectures and sovereign cyber capacity hardened against both disinformation and sabotage. The air domain, often overshadowed, remains underutilized despite offering cost-effective ISR opportunities via high-altitude, long-endurance drones and balloon-based sensors that can supplement space assets in degraded environments.
Canada must approach the Arctic as a multi-domain region. Infrastructure nodes at Iqaluit, Yellowknife, and Inuvik must be conceived not as mere logistics hubs, but as permanent and staffed bases in a broader multi-domain lattice of deterrence. Airfields should be hardened, satellites shielded, networks encrypted, and data fused in real time. The resilience and infrastructure footprint must be multi-domain: ISR in orbit, radar on ice, seaborne logistics hubs, and hardened cyber networks. It might even be cheaper to establish and easier to maintain air-based sensors to augment space-based sensors, such as high-altitude, long-endurance drones and high-altitude balloons.
4. Missing the point that infrastructure spending enables both military and local resilience.
Canada’s policy frameworks fail to grasp a foundational truth: infrastructure is not ancillary to defence; it is defence. Roads, railways, hospitals, and power stations in the Arctic are bulwarks of resilience and lifelines to national unity. The harsh environment demands more than token outposts; it demands permanence that begins with infrastructure designed for both civilian and military pursuits.
Canada’s persistent underinvestment in Arctic infrastructure can be attributed largely to sticker shock. Building in the north is expensive at the outset, but those initial costs conceal long-term value. Roads, railways, and ports that facilitate the movement of Canadian forces and provide necessary infrastructure for local communities also enhance NATO mobility and resilience.
The Grays Bay Road and Port Project is unlikely to open before 2035. Until then, the Port of Churchill remains Canada’s only Arctic deepwater port for more than 106,000 miles of coastline—and even it is more than 800 kilometres south of the Arctic Circle. The overland situation is equally stark. The long-considered Mackenzie Valley Highway remains unbuilt. Meant to replace unreliable winter roads and connect remote Arctic communities, the highway should be considered as a defense artery.
Moreover, the North needs cyber towers as much as radar domes; fibre optic cables as much as sonar arrays. Schools and post-secondary institutions—anchored by Arctic research centres—should be erected alongside hardened military installations to attract families, not just forces. In Alaska, the dual-use success of the University of Alaska Fairbanks and the Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport provides a model: educational and aerospace ecosystems aligned with the broader security posture of the United States.
Still, there are signs of acceleration. The Department of National Defence has committed $230 million to extend the main runway at Inuvik Airport. The upgrades include modern lighting and arrestor systems—investments tailored for sustained military operations and a rare example of a concrete commitment in a domain often shaped by abstraction. Canada should build Arctic spaceports and drone launch facilities for persistent surveillance and communications dominance—assets that would likely qualify as defence expenditures under a broadened NATO definition. And that definition is evolving. With calls to raise the alliance-wide benchmark to five percent of GDP, the line between civil and military investment will blur. Forward-thinking allies are already redefining defence to include national resilience, critical infrastructure, and technological redundancy.
5. Failing to call out the need to achieve A2/AD capability.
Canada’s current Arctic strategy is more performative than purposeful. It remains anchored in rituals of presence rather than a doctrine of deterrence. The reasons are structural and cultural: A2/AD sounds too aggressive for a nation wedded to peacekeeping identity and constrained by intergovernmental jurisdictional frictions. But if Canada is to hold the Arctic, it must defend it—not merely inhabit it. That demands something Canada has never attempted: a comprehensive anti-access/area denial (A2/AD) strategy adapted for the circumpolar battlespace.
A2/AD refers to the deployment of integrated capabilities that prevent an adversary from operating freely within a region. This includes long-range fires, persistent surveillance, advanced radar, cyber denial tools, hardened command-and-control infrastructure, and air and maritime denial platforms. Canada does not mention A2/AD in its Arctic lexicon because it fears what it implies: that the North is no longer a sanctuary but a frontier. Building an Arctic A2/AD network would require political will, sustained investment, and a strategic mindset that accepts confrontation as a precondition for sovereignty. It would also provoke diplomatic risk—Russia would label such a move provocative, and China would test the perimeter with gray-zone maneuvers masked as scientific exploration or commercial navigation. Yet the absence of such a posture risks far greater cost: a hollow sovereignty, subject to erosion by increments.
Investments in some areas do not amount to A2/AD. True, Canada’s $38.6-billion commitment over twenty years to modernize NORAD is substantial. If fully implemented, this would be the largest reinvestment in continental defense since the early Cold War. Arctic over-the-horizon radar systems will track threats from the US-Canada border to the Arctic Circle. A more powerful polar variant will extend coverage into the Arctic archipelago and beyond. Crossbow—a classified network of advanced sensors—will supplement these systems with real-time precision. And the Defence Enhanced Surveillance for Space (DESSP) project will allow space-based tracking of adversary launch and maneuver capabilities. Canada has partnered with Australia on a next-generation Arctic early-warning detection system. But even these investments are insufficient; they do not achieve A2/AD in the Arctic. Canada has ISR blind spots, insufficient logistical depth, and infrastructure degraded by thawing permafrost. RADARSAT’s capabilities are aging; the Northwest Passage is functionally unmonitored. There is no cruise missile defense layer.
A Canadian A2/AD architecture would extend ISR reach from geostationary orbit to the ocean floor. At its core: Over-the-Horizon Radar (AOTHR), high-altitude drones, and advanced satellite constellations fused via a hardened C4ISR backbone. Any credible A2/AD structure must project deterrence not only northward but outward via NORAD, integrating seamlessly with allied efforts across the Greenland-Iceland-UK gap and the European High North.
Challenge and opportunity
We recommend the following six steps to shape decision-making vis-à-vis Canada’s Arctic. Addressing each of them is necessary for more resilient supply chains and robust infrastructure for defense of the Canadian Arctic.
1. Achieve enduring domestic political consensus.
Without sustained, bipartisan consensus on the strategic value of the Arctic, Canada’s northern policy will remain fragmented, underfunded, and vulnerable to reversal.
Canada should establish a nonpartisan Arctic Strategy Council, drawing on members from federal, provincial, territorial, and Indigenous governments, as well as the private sector. This council could be modeled loosely on the United Kingdom’s National Security Council, with a standing mandate to oversee and report on Arctic development milestones.
To correct course, Parliament should adopt a minimum percentage of GDP for Arctic infrastructure and defense investments—similar to how NATO’s 2-percent defense spending benchmark frames national priorities. A 0.5-percent GDP floor specifically earmarked for Arctic readiness would send a powerful signal to allies, adversaries, and Canadians alike.
2. Build permanent bases and infrastructure.
Sovereignty requires presence. Canada cannot assert command over its northern territory while maintaining a transient, seasonal military posture.
Canada must develop at least two permanent Arctic bases by 2035 and reinforce the air infrastructures in Yellowknife. These installations should support multi-domain enablers: ground forces, drone squadrons, ISR satellites, and cyber defense detachments. One proposed location is Resolute Bay in Nunavut—a strategic logistics point halfway through the Northwest Passage. Another is Tuktoyaktuk in the Northwest Territories, where the Inuvik-Tuktoyaktuk Highway provides ground access to the Beaufort Sea.
Canada need not sacrifice environmental stewardship to bolster its dual-use infrastructure in the region. On the contrary, the development of small modular reactors (SMRs) offers a way to meet energy needs in a sustainable and flexible manner. These compact, deployable energy systems would enable off-grid installations to power radar stations, bases, and airstrips—allowing the Canadian Armed Forces to operate autonomously across a vast and power-starved frontier.
Canada can and should discover best practices in other nations and adopt to the fullest extent possible. The Arctic Remote Energy Networks Academy is training a new generation in clean energy implementation, building the intellectual and technical foundation for sustainable Arctic energy systems. It is one example of innovation that can help make strides in the Arctic.
3. Reorient superclusters toward strategic innovation.
Canada’s innovation ecosystem is misaligned with its strategic realities.
To adapt, Canada must integrate Arctic operational challenges into supercluster mandates. The focus of these superclusters has strayed too far from core security imperatives, and redirecting their mandate toward the defense and security sector could allow Canada to reanimate its atrophied defense industrial base, stimulate Indigenous research and development, and provide a platform for strategic innovation drawn from academic and private-sector talent.
The Global Innovation Cluster for Advanced Manufacturing could sponsor development of modular Arctic housing for deployed forces. The Digital Technology Cluster could support remote communications networks hardened against magnetic interference. And the Protein Industries Cluster could help devise shelf-stable, high-calorie rations adapted to extreme environments.
Canada should establish a national challenge prize—modeled on the US Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) Grand Challenge—to spur innovation in climate-resilient infrastructure, Arctic mobility, and remote power generation. Such efforts should be coordinated by a Defence Innovation Agency akin to the United Kingdom’s Defence and Security Accelerator (DASA), ensuring alignment between technological output and operational need.
4. Integrate civil-military infrastructure.
Canada must adopt a whole-of-society approach to Arctic logistics—one that erases the line between civilian and military use.
Every kilometer of highway, every meter of runway, and every watt of power grid must serve dual purposes. Similarly, the Grays Bay Road and Port Project, which aims to connect the rich mineral fields of western Nunavut with the Northwest Passage, must be prioritized for its economic benefits and geopolitical value. Its completion would give Canada a second deepwater Arctic port—an essential node for resupply, power projection, and emergency response.
Meanwhile, the feasibility of Arctic spaceports must be considered thoughtfully. With global competition accelerating in polar orbit surveillance, Canada’s geography is a latent advantage. Nunavut and the Northwest Territories are prime candidates for launching satellites into sun-synchronous and polar orbits, a domain critical for ISR.
5. Accelerate NORAD modernization and ISR integration.
Canada must modernize its Arctic surveillance and early-warning capabilities through the renewal of NORAD and deep integration of orbital, aerial, and terrestrial ISR platforms.
Canada must move decisively to modernize its contributions to NORAD and integrate a layered, multi-domain ISR architecture that meets the threats of the 21st century. The existing North Warning System (NWS)—a relic of the Cold War—is functionally obsolete. It is increasingly vulnerable to kinetic destruction, electronic warfare, and deception by adversaries leveraging hypersonic, low-flying, and space-enabled strike platforms. While Canada has acknowledged this through its stated commitment to over-the-horizon radar (OTHR) and new space-based capabilities, progress has been halting, piecemeal, and under-resourced.
Canada should fast-track its involvement in key pillars of NORAD modernization alongside the United States by:
- Over-the-Horizon Radar (OTHR): Advance procurement and installation of Arctic-facing OTHR systems based in Labrador and Nunavut to create a persistent early-warning envelope stretching across the polar approaches. These systems must be hardened against electromagnetic disruption and integrated into NORAD’s command-and-control nodes in real time.
- Ballistic Missile Defence and the Golden Dome: Canada must shed outdated policy inhibitions and join the continental Ballistic Missile Defence (BMD) architecture. A Canadian contribution to a “Golden Dome” over North America—built on Aegis Ashore components, ship-based interceptors, and ground-based midcourse defence systems—would reinforce deterrence and mitigate the strategic vacuum currently inviting adversary escalation. Participation in the US Missile Defense Review and integration into layered BMD command structures should begin immediately.
- Space and High-Altitude ISR: The integration of RADARSAT Constellation Mission (RCM) assets with Gray Jay microsatellites must be complemented by investment in high-altitude, long-endurance (HALE) UAVs, stratospheric balloons, and commercial space partnerships. Persistent polar orbit surveillance is not a luxury—it is the sinew of a sovereign Canadian deterrent.
A modern NORAD without a full Canadian partner is a NORAD weakened in scope, credibility, and political cohesion. In an age of hypersonics, space militarization, and AI-driven surveillance, Canada’s northern shield must be not just symbolic but steel-wrought—an active, intelligent barrier underpinned by the best minds and machines the alliance can field. The window to shape this future is closing fast. Canada must step forward now, not as a follower, but as a co-architect of North America’s defence.
6. Integrate the Arctic with broader national and allied defense postures.
Canada’s Arctic strategy must not be treated in isolation.
Canada must integrate its Arctic strategy into a broader, assertive national defence posture—one that acknowledges the indivisibility of Canadian sovereignty and its responsibilities as a G7 power. The Arctic is not a separate theatre, but the forward glacis of the North American fortress. What begins as radar coverage over Baffin Bay ends in deterrence posture from Vilnius to the Taiwan Strait. Canadian defence policy must therefore harmonize Arctic readiness with strategic power projection abroad, ensuring the nation can respond decisively to threats—whether they emerge from the Beaufort Sea, the Black Sea, or the South China Sea.
The Arctic remains critical—but it is not Canada’s only defence priority. A myopic focus on the North risks undermining broader global responsibilities. Canada must project credible force across multiple domains and theatres. That means integrating Arctic surveillance—through over-the-horizon radar, low Earth orbit satellite constellations, and AI-driven ISR—directly into NORAD’s early warning lattice. These capabilities must be interoperable with US Northern Command, NATO’s Arctic flank, and allied sensors in the Indo-Pacific. Surveillance is not enough; it must be paired with striking power and forward basing.
Strategic mobility and offensive reach are essential. Arctic airbases must be upgraded to sustain F-35 squadrons year-round, with rapid deployment capabilities for long-range precision fires and mobile expeditionary forces. Arctic-class naval platforms should anchor presence and power projection into contested waters, with the logistical depth to pivot between the Arctic archipelago and Pacific choke points. Canadian-built UAVs and high-altitude drones should patrol both the Northwest Passage and Western Pacific, forming a twin-hemisphere presence. Above all, Canada must act as a sovereign Arctic nation capable of defending its territory, while remaining a credible contributor to the rules-based international order. The Arctic is the crucible, but Canada’s responsibilities—and its enemies—do not stop at the pole.
Canada’s Arctic infrastructure and supply chain resilience are foundational components to its basic expression of sovereignty. But the future of the Arctic belongs to those who show up first and endure longest. The question is not whether Canada can afford Arctic sovereignty, but whether it can afford its absence.
About the authors
Jeff Reynolds is a nonresident senior fellow with the Transatlantic Security Initiative in the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.
Kristen Taylor is an assistant director with the Transatlantic Security Initiative in the Atlantic Council’s Scowcroft Center for Strategy and Security.
Acknowledgements
This research was made possible by the generous support of the Canada Mobilizing Insights in Defense and Security (MINDS) program.
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Image: An icebreaker in the Arctic. (Manuel Ernst, NASA Earth Observatory, CC BY-SA 3.0)