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Science Diplomacy

Antarctica, Science, and the 

Governance of International Spaces

Edited by

Paul Arthur Berkman, Michael A. Lang, 

David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young

A Smithsonian Contribution to Knowledge

washington d.c.

2011
Published by SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION SCHOLARLY PRESS

P.O. Box 37012

MRC 957

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Science diplomacy : science, Antarctica, and the governance of international spaces / Paul Arthur Berkman, 

Michael A. Lang, David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young, editors.

 p. cm.

“A Smithsonian Contribution to Knowledge.”

“This book is a product of the keynote addresses, plenary presentations, panel discussions, workshops 

and posters from the Antarctic Treaty Summit: Science-Policy Interactions in International Governance at 

the Smithsonian Institution during 30 November through 3 December 2009”—Preface.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 978-1-935623-06-9 (alk. paper)

1. Antarctica—International status—Congresses. 2. Polar regions—Research—International 

cooperation—Congresses. I. Berkman, Paul Arthur.

KWX60.S26 2011

341.4'2—dc22

2010045415

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard 

for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48–1992.
Contents

FOREWORD vii

His Serene Highness Prince Albert II of Monaco 

PREFACE ix

Paul Arthur Berkman, University of Cambridge

Michael A. Lang, Smithsonian Institution

David W. H. Walton, British Antarctic Survey

Oran R. Young, University of California, Santa Barbara

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS xi

SCIENCE AS A TOOL OF DIPLOMACY

Building the International Legal Framework for Antarctica 1

Marie Jacobsson, Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs

President Eisenhower, the Antarctic Treaty, and the Origin 

of International Spaces 17

Paul Arthur Berkman, University of Cambridge

The Development of the Antarctic Treaty System 29

Tucker Scully, Department of State

The Antarctic Treaty System: A Model of Legal Creativity 

and Cooperation 39

Gillian Triggs, University of Sydney

Balancing Sovereign Interests beyond National Jurisdictions 51

Vladimir Golitsyn, International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea

Origin and Limitations of the Antarctic Treaty 59

Aant Elzinga, University of Gothenburg

Background and Evolution of Some Ideas and Values That Have 

Led to the Antarctic Treaty 69

Ernest Frederick Roots, Environment Canada
i v • science diplomacy

Japan and the Antarctic Treaty after World War II 73

Yoshio Yoshida, Japan Polar Research Institute

The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research and the 

Antarctic Treaty 75

David W. H. Walton, British Antarctic Survey

SCIENCE FOR INSTITUTIONAL DESIGN AND IMPLEMENTATION

The Antarctic Treaty: Toward a New Partnership 89

Johannes Huber, Antarctic Treaty Secretariat

Potential Challenges to the Antarctic Treaty 97

Christopher C. Joyner, Georgetown University

Sustainable Management in the Southern Ocean: CCAMLR Science 103

Denzil Miller, University of Tasmania

Science and Diplomacy: Montreal Protocol on Substances 

that Deplete the Ozone Layer 123

K. Madhava Sarma, United Nations Environment Programme

Stephen O. Andersen, Montreal Protocol Technology 

and Economic Assessment Panel

Outer Space as International Space: Lessons from Antarctica 133

Armel Kerrest, University of Western Brittany

Policies for Scientific Exploration and Environmental Protection: 

Comparison of the Antarctic and Outer Space Treaties 143

Margaret S. Race, SETI Institute

SCIENCE FOR EARLY WARNING AND ASSESSMENT

New Frontiers and Future Directions in Antarctic Science 153

Mahlon Kennicutt II, Texas A&M University

Modern Research in Polar Regions 161

Jörn Thiede, Alfred Wegener Institute

The Vostok Venture: An Outcome of the Antarctic Treaty 165

Jean Robert Petit, Université Joseph Fourier

The Southern Ocean in the Earth System 175

Stephen R. Rintoul, Centre for Australian Weather and 

Climate Research

The Antarctic Ozone Hole: A Unique Example of the Science 

and Policy Interface 189

Susan Solomon, NOAA Earth System Research Laboratory

Marie-Lise Chanin, Université de Versailles-Saint Quentin

Cosmology from Antarctica 197

Antony A. Stark, Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory
contents • v

SCIENCE FOR MANAGEMENT

Managing the Antarctic Environment: The Evolving Role of the 

Committee for Environmental Protection 209

Olav Orheim, Research Council of Norway

Anthony Press, Antarctic Climate and Ecosystems Cooperative 

Research Centre

Neil Gilbert, Antarctica New Zealand

The ANTOSTRAT Legacy: Science Collaboration and International 

Transparency in Potential Marine Mineral Resource Exploitation 

of Antarctica 223

Alan Cooper, U.S. Geological Survey

Peter Barker, University of Birmingham

Peter Barrett, Victoria University of Wellington

John Behrendt, University of Colorado, Boulder

Giuliano Brancolini, Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia 

e di Geofisica Sperimentale

Jonathan Childs, U.S. Geological Survey 

Carlota Escutia, Universidad de Granada

Wilfried Jokat, Alfred-Wegener Institut

Yngve Kristoffersen, University of Bergen

German Leitchenkov, Research Institute for Geology and 

Mineral Resources of the World Ocean

Howard Stagg, Geoscience Australia

Manabu Tanahashi, Geological Survey of Japan

Nigel Wardell, Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia e di 

Geofisica Sperimentale

Peter Webb, Ohio State University

The Role of the Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs 231

José Retamales, Instituto Antárctico Chileno

Michelle Rogan-Finnemore, Council of Managers of National 

Antarctic Programs

International Cooperation and Management of Tourism: 

A World within a World 241

Denise Landau, International Association of Antarctic 

Tour Operators

Ocean Dumping and Fertilization in the Antarctic: 

Tangled Legal Currents, Sea of Challenges 245

David L. VanderZwaag, Dalhousie University

SCIENCE FOR INTERNATIONAL COLLABORATION

Parallel Precedents for the Antarctic Treaty 253

Cornelia Lüdecke, Scientific Committee for Antarctic Research

International Collaboration in the Antarctic for Global Science 265

Karl A. Erb, National Science Foundation
v i • science diplomacy

Public Participation in Antarctica: The Role of Nongovernmental 

and Intergovernmental Organizations 271

Harlan Cohen, International Union for Conservation of Nature

The Antarctic Treaty System: Perspectives of Environmental 

Nongovernmental Organizations on Addressing Key Issues 277

James N. Barnes, Antarctic Southern Ocean Coalition

Common Interests in the Ocean 281

Rüdiger Wolfrum, International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea

Governing International Spaces: Antarctica and Beyond 287

Oran R. Young, University of California, Santa Barbara

Workshop on Arctic Governance: Drawing Lessons from the 

Antarctic Experience 295

Francesca Cava, Aspen Institute

David Monsma, Aspen Institute

Oran R. Young, University of California, Santa Barbara

CONCLUSIONS 299

Paul Arthur Berkman, University of Cambridge

David W. H. Walton, British Antarctic Survey

Oran R. Young, University of California, Santa Barbara 

APPENDIx 311

index 329
Foreword

As is the case wherever the problem of environmental protection arises, 

the major issue for international negotiation is that of the interface 

between scientific research and policy making, and that was the case 

in Copenhagen. It is also that of the transformation of scientific truth 

into collective choice. Such transformation is never easy, nor natural. 

Regardless of their accuracy, scientific facts cannot conceal the complexity 

of decisions that must include other issues and take into account other interests. 

This is why it is so important to be able to examine the case of the Antarctic 

Treaty, which is both exemplary and, alas, unique.

Fifty years ago when 12 countries decided to pool their efforts to preserve 

the Antarctic from all territorial claims, they probably had no idea of the meaning their action would take in light of the current situation. They could not 

imagine that saving our now endangered planet would become our main concern. They could not have known that the poles, until now the embodiment of 

the power of wilderness and wild expanses, would become the symbols of their 

new vulnerability. It is true that the Madrid Protocol provided a useful addition 

to the treaty in 1991, giving it an essential environmental dimension. In fact, 

all it did was reassert its original spirit, that of an area dependent on the shared 

responsibility of mankind, a continent whose collective importance requires defining the boundaries of special interests.

The spirit of the Antarctic Treaty Summit was to emphasize the primordial 

importance of these deserted expanses for mankind, expanses with almost no 

human beings but also without which all of us could no longer exist as we have 

so far. This is why I spoke of a case that is both exemplary and unique. The 

Antarctic Treaty political decision preceded scientific certainty; in a way, it even 

preceded the threat.

But beyond realities of its time, it also set out a universal philosophy for 

the preservation of higher interests of mankind. The treaty made it possible for 

nearly 10% of the Earth’s surface to escape national interests and be dedicated 

to peaceful purposes. Given today’s very different realities, this is the success 

that should inspire us. It will be difficult but not impossible since we have other 

assets, including the certainties acquired by scientists in the past 50 years. We 
viii • science diplomacy

now know the challenge confronting us, what is at stake, 

our prime interests, our very survival. Threat and fear 

often trigger new momentum.

I was able and honored to go to Antarctica in January 2009, where I was able to visit 26 different research 

stations with dozens of researchers of different nationalities. I would like to pay tribute to their dedication, their 

passion, their selflessness. These men and women devote 

years of their lives trying to understand the complexities 

of our world. We must recognize today that their work 

is often insufficiently heeded by those who should be its 

natural extension, political decision makers. In recent decades scientists have been warning us of our planet’s degradation, yet for decades our economies and short-term 

interests have been privileged. The international agenda 

is brimming with more urgent tragedies and crises with 

more immediate effects. Fortunately, things are beginning 

to change since scientists have succeeded in mobilizing 

increasingly vigilant public opinions. The world over, we 

can now see the emergence of renewed global awareness, 

our most valuable asset.

Regardless of the time it will take, we can now believe that progress will end up being the rule. We cannot 

afford, however, to lose too much time. We have already 

too long postponed making the right decisions to preserve 

the Earth and its resources and likely to guarantee a viable 

environment for future generations.

In Antarctica more than anywhere else we can observe 

the devastating effects of climate change year after year. 

The problem is all the more acutely felt in the Arctic as 

well, which does not benefit from any true protection by 

any treaty. Today, we can observe that the threats weighing on the Arctic no longer concern only degradation of 

the biotype. The strategic stakes are now very clear, and 

the ambitions are more and more openly voiced. Economic appetites are aroused, of course, by scientific estimations that one-fifth of the planet is still undiscovered, 

where technically exploitable energy resources are located 

in the Arctic zone. In addition to economic appetites there 

are often, unfortunately, strategic appetites. In the face of 

these threats we must take action. The importance of the 

resources at stake can only aggravate the situation in future years. This is why it is imperative for us to set up 

as soon as possible a lasting international solution taking 

into account everyone’s interests. Everyone meaning not 

only the five states surrounding the Arctic Ocean and its 

shores, part of whose indigenous populations are seeing 

their traditional lifestyles profoundly disrupted, but also 

the international community as a whole since, I repeat, the 

future of the Arctic is crucial for all of us.

Without any specific international treaty, the 1982 

United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea serves 

as the basis for the protection of the Arctic. It is on this 

basis that all five of the coastal countries recently “agreed 

to take measures to ensure protection and conservation of 

the fragile marine environment of the Arctic Ocean.” Can 

this statement weigh against the inexorable almost daily 

advance of the new conquerors of these icy expanses given 

the interests involved, their power and complexity? It is 

highly unlikely that any binding agreement can help move 

ahead in the coming years.

Thus, international negotiations cannot solve all problems. Although an effective global Arctic Treaty must remain our long-term objective, we must also explore parallel 

courses, short-term measures for good governance, less ambitious but just as necessary. In particular, we must envisage 

the creation of sanctuaries and protected areas for preserving 

biodiversity, including at sea, as has already been done, for 

example, by my country Monaco, France, and Italy in the 

Mediterranean with the Pelagos Sanctuary. This approach 

also applies to all phenomena linked to global warming, including the very important issue of acidification of the ocean 

and the threats against biodiversity. In the face of these challenges we must be flexible and inventive in combining different levels of actions that are both daring and complement 

each other. This is why it is so important for scientists to 

intensify their pressure. They represent a respected, independent moral force. Today, their voice is capable of going beyond specific interests and contingencies of topicality. While 

policy makers struggle to convert the conclusions of their 

work into appropriate choices, we must continue to rely on 

them so that we can reasonably triumph tomorrow.

As Secretary of State Hillary Clinton declared for the 

50th anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty, the challenges 

of the poles will offer nations the opportunity of meeting in the twenty-first century as we did 50 years ago in 

the twentieth century, to reinforce peace and security, encourage sustainable development, and protect the environment. These are very strong words that trace a course that 

is now our own. This is, at any rate, the way that I see 

my fight for the poles as a determinant focal point for the 

future of our world.

Prince Albert II

Sovereign Prince of Monaco

May 2010
Preface

Meeting in Washington, D.C., on 1 December 1959, 12 nations 

came together to adopt the Antarctic Treaty in the interest of all 

mankind. The elegance of the treaty was in its simplicity of only 

14 articles that would provide the basis for the governance of 

nearly 10% of the Earth “for peaceful purposes only.” Territorial issues were 

set aside. “Substantial research” activities became the criterion for nations to 

consult on “matters of common interest” and to make decisions by consent of 

all parties.

The 1959 Antarctic Treaty has succeeded remarkably well during its first 50 

years. Scientific and technical advice has become a central element of the Antarctic Treaty System, especially from the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research. Institutional offspring have emerged, most notably the 1980 Convention 

on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources. Divisive issues, particularly potential mineral resources, have been successfully addressed. In 1991, 

the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties adopted a comprehensive Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty to safeguard the continent for 

future generations as the largest conservation area on Earth.

Following the International Geophysical Year of 1957–1958, with science 

as a tool of diplomacy, the Antarctic Treaty System has provided lessons that are 

relevant to the governance of transboundary systems as well as the other international spaces beyond sovereign jurisdictions (i.e., outer space, the deep sea, 

and the high seas) that together cover nearly 70% of the Earth’s surface. With 

vision and hope for the future, the challenge of the Antarctic Treaty Summit was 

to identify and assess these science-policy lessons of international cooperation 

that have enabled both the flexibility and the resilience of the Antarctic Treaty 

since it was adopted at the height of the Cold War. 

The Antarctic Treaty Summit was convened in the spirit of being international, interdisciplinary, and inclusive. Discussions were open, engaging, and 

collaborative. Participants came from 27 nations and included diplomats, scientists, legislators, administrators, lawyers, historians, artists, writers, educators, entrepreneurs, students, and other members of civil society. The Antarctic 

Treaty Summit involved plenary presentations with panel discussions during the 
x • science diplomacy

first three days followed by a final day of topical workshops. The plenary sessions were 

1. Origin of the Antarctic Treaty, 

2. Development of the Antarctic Treaty System,

3. Antarctica’s Role in Global Science,

4. Scientific Advice in the Antarctic Treaty System, 

5. International Cooperation in Antarctica, 

6. Interactions Between the Antarctic Treaty System and 

other International Regimes, and

7. Governing International Spaces: Lessons from 

Antarctica. 

The topical workshops on the fourth day considered 

(1) Arctic Governance—Lessons from Antarctica and 

(2) History of International Spaces, with a luncheon dialogue on Building Bridges: Communicating Science with 

Policy Makers. Authors of this book include key contributors to the Antarctic Treaty System along its timeline over 

the past half century. 

The Antarctic Treaty Summit adopted the Forever 

Declaration, which was finalized with participant contributions in open discussion and made available for signature 

via the internet for anyone anywhere in the world (http://

www.atsummit50.aq). A concurrent resolution (Recognizing the 50th Anniversary of the Signing of the Antarctic 

Treaty) was adopted with unanimous consent by the U.S. 

House of Representatives (H. Con. Res. 51) and the U.S. 

Senate (S. Res. 365) during the first session of the 111th

Congress in 2009, encouraging “international and interdisciplinary collaboration in the Antarctic Treaty Summit 

to identify lessons from 50 years of international cooperation under the Antarctic Treaty that have legacy value for 

humankind.” In addition, His Excellency Ban Ki-moon 

(Secretary-General of the United Nations) delivered a video 

address to the Antarctic Treaty Summit on 1 December 

2009, celebrating 50 years of international cooperation 

and peace promoted by the Antarctic Treaty.

There have been many summits, generally seen as important government meetings and usually involving heads 

of state. We were, indeed, fortunate to have the participation of His Serene Highness Prince Albert II of Monaco in 

this summit. The notion of summit also involves climbing 

and overcoming challenges. During the past half century, 

humankind has been climbing together along the route 

blazed by the original 12 Antarctic Treaty signatories, 

who have welcomed increasing participation in Antarctic 

governance from many other nations, which now include 

nearly 50 signatories. Importantly, summits offer special 

vistas, not only of the mountain climbed, but of all that 

surrounds. Such perspective was the central goal of the 

Antarctic Treaty Summit. 

This volume brings together key elements of the Antarctic Treaty Summit (the plenary lectures, discussion 

panels, and workshops) to examine lessons we can learn 

for the future governance of the Antarctic and other international spaces beyond sovereign jurisdictions, as well 

as for resources that cross the boundaries of nations. The 

book is organized to highlight lessons about science-policy 

interactions in the origin, design, development, and applications of the Antarctic Treaty System as a governance 

case study that has global relevance. Chapters from the 

keynote speakers, complemented by the shorter vignettes 

from other experts involved with the summit, illustrate 

these lessons with international and interdisciplinary balance. The final conclusions provide a further synthesis of 

Antarctic lessons for science diplomacy and good governance, offering hope and inspiration for us all.

“With the interests of science and the progress of all 

mankind,” on behalf of the International Board and our 

benefactors, patrons, sponsors, endorsing organizations, 

and participants in the Antarctic Treaty Summit, we invite 

you to share our challenge and opportunity in assessing 

the lessons of international cooperation promoted by the 

Antarctic Treaty during its first 50 years. 

Paul Arthur Berkman, University of Cambridge

Michael A. Lang, Smithsonian Institution

David W. H. Walton, British Antarctic Survey

Oran R. Young, University of California
Acknowledgments

This book is a product of the keynote addresses, plenary presentations, 

panel discussions, workshops, and posters from the Antarctic Treaty 

Summit: Science-Policy Interactions in International Governance at 

the Smithsonian Institution during 30 November through 3 December 

2009 (http://www.atsummit50.aq).

The international, interdisciplinary, and inclusive spirit of this golden anniversary celebration for the Antarctic Treaty stemmed from the collaboration among its board members: Professor Paul Arthur Berkman (Chair, United 

States); Dr. Maj De Poorter (New Zealand); Professor Edith Fanta (Brazil); Dr. 

Marie Jacobsson (Sweden); Dr. Yeadong Kim (Republic of Korea); Mr. Michael 

Lang (United States); Dr. José Retamales (Chile); Professor David W. H. Walton 

(Vice-Chair, United Kingdom); Judge Rüdiger Wolfrum (Germany); Professor 

Oran R. Young (United States); and Professor Abdul Hamid Zakri (Malaysia). 

We gratefully acknowledge the authors of this book and the participants from 

the 27 nations who contributed to the Antarctic Treaty Summit as well as the 40 

national or international government agencies, nongovernmental organizations, 

foundations, corporations, and universities from around the world that made 

this celebration a success. 

We especially thank the following three summit benefactors who provided 

essential support for the Antarctic Treaty Summit. With continuous enthusiasm 

from the start, the Tinker Foundation enabled the overall summit planning and 

implementation, and we are grateful for the support from Ms. Renate Rennie 

(Chief Executive Officer and President). The Prince Albert II of Monaco Foundation (Monaco Office) provided key support for the speakers and panelists 

to attend this event in Washington, D.C., and we gratefully acknowledge the 

personal involvement from His Serene Highness Prince Albert II. Without enthusiastic support from the Smithsonian Institution, through the Office of the 

Under-Secretary for Science and the Office of Special Events and Protocol, we 

would not have had use of the prestigious National Museum of Natural History 

and National Air and Space Museum or the timely publication of this book, and 

we especially thank Dr. G. Wayne Clough (12th Secretary of the Smithsonian 

Institution) for his commitment to the summit activities. 
xii • science diplomacy

We thank the summit patrons who supported key elements of the Antarctic Treaty Summit. The U.S. Marine 

Mammal Commission supported the Web site and subsequent archive (http://www.atsummit50.aq) as well as a 

mini-documentary about the Antarctic Treaty System and 

other outreach strategies. The Office of Polar Programs 

at the U.S. National Science Foundation supported the 

poster session and video interviews that were integrated 

into the mini-documentary about the lasting values of the 

Antarctic Treaty for humankind. TransPolar (a Raytheon/

AECOM company) supported the gala at the National Air 

and Space Museum on the 50th anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty. The Prince Albert II of Monaco Foundation 

(U.S. Office) contributed to the audiovisual logistics for 

the plenary presentations and panel discussions as well 

as the performance by the Keystone State Boychoir. The 

Eisenhower Institute at Gettysburg College contributed to 

the lunches and coffee breaks that promoted interactions 

among participants. The United States–United Kingdom 

Fulbright Commission supported critical coordination 

and networking through the University of Cambridge.

We thank the summit sponsors who contributed to the 

diverse participation and logistics for the Antarctic Treaty 

Summit. Contract management was through the University of California, Santa Barbara (Bren School of Environmental Science and Management), with additional fiscal 

administration by the University of Cambridge (Scott 

Polar Research Institute). The following organizations 

contributed to the travel, lodging, and registration costs 

of participants: American Geophysical Union, Foundation 

for the Good Governance of International Spaces, Greenpeace, Japan Polar Research Association, KBR, Korean 

Polar Research Institute, Korea Supporters Association 

for Polar Research, Lindblad Expeditions, Pew Charitable Trusts, Stanford University (Department of Earth 

Sciences), United Nations Environmental Programme, 

Universiti Sains Malaysia (Centre for Global Sustainability Studies), and World Wildlife Fund–Australia (Antarctica and Southern Ocean Initiative). The Association 

for Polar Early Career Scientists conducted the Antarctic 

Treaty essay contest (which involved submissions from 12 

nations), and The Explorers Club covered the costs for the 

winning essayist. The U.S. Geological Survey covered the 

costs of the musical performance by Rive Gauche at the 

gala. The Arctic Governance Project and Aspen Institute 

(Dialogue and Commission on Arctic Climate Change) 

contributed to the workshop on Antarctic lessons for the 

Arctic. The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research 

contributed to the workshop on the history of international spaces.

We thank the organizations that provided key outreach through their summit endorsements: American 

Association for the Advancement of Science, Fulbright 

Academy of Science and Technology, International Council of Science/World Meteorological Organization Joint 

Committee for the International Polar Year, National 

Geographic Society, The Royal Society, United Nations 

University (Institute of Advanced Studies), the U.S. House 

of Representatives, and the U.S. Senate.

Finally, such a complex meeting could not have been 

executed so smoothly without professional assistance of 

the highest order, and we thank Linder & Associates for 

their excellent event management, which was contributed 

with creative enthusiasm. Importantly, as editors, we are 

grateful to the many reviewers who provided thoughtful 

assessments of the papers in this volume.
INTRODUCTION

Imagine a pristine continent, cold as ice, extremely windy and dry, almost 

as giant as Latin America and clearly larger than Europe, but with little or negligible human activities, yet a continent in which states, some explorers, and scientists are taking an increasing interest. Imagine that, outlandish as it may seem, 

this continent was about to become a scene of international discord and that you 

had to solve the problem. What would you do? It is clear that you would need 

a political and a legal solution, a solution that would last and that everybody 

could live with. There is no room for one winner; there is no room for any loser. 

There is only room for numerous winners.

This was the situation that a number of particularly concerned states faced 

in the 1940s when they needed to address how Antarctica should be managed. 

Their challenges were 

•	 to find a solution that would be accepted domestically,

•	 to settle the issue among the most concerned states (internal accommodation), 

•	 to meet the challenges of states not involved in the discussions, the nonstate 

parties (external accommodation), and

•	 to meet the challenges of nonstate actors (public opinion).

This article will address the development of a legal framework for Antarctica, not only the 50 years of the Antarctic Treaty but also the decades preceding 

the treaty. These are phases of developments that mirrored, mirror, and will 

continue to mirror international and domestic political developments, including 

the expectations of civil society.1

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE LEGAL FRAMEWORK 

FOR ANTARCTICA

The necessity for a new power structure was already apparent during the 

Second World War and so was the need for new principles of law and politics to 

Building the International Legal 

Framework for Antarctica

Marie Jacobsson

Marie Jacobsson, Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, Department of International Law, 

Human Rights and Treaty Law, SE-103 39 

Stockholm, Sweden. Correspondence: marie.

jacobsson@foreign.ministry.se; marie.jacobsson

@swipnet.se.
2 • science diplomacy

be inaugurated and upheld.2 The post–Second World War 

political discussions on Antarctica were no doubt influenced by the adoption of the United Nations (UN) Charter 

in San Francisco in 1945. “Regional” solutions became a 

sanctioned and encouraged means of conflict moderation, 

explicitly addressed in Article 52 of the UN Charter. At 

least the two Latin American claimants have endeavoured 

to regard Antarctica as a regional matter. The United States 

regarded Antarctica as a sphere of interest among a group 

of powers friendly to the United States. It was not until 

the Soviet Union claimed the right to participate in the 

political discussions on the future of Antarctica that the 

question of Antarctica developed into one of global interest, or rather, Antarctica became a pawn in global politics. 

The Most Important Steps

Before I recount what took place at the intergovernmental level, let me state that the interest in Antarctic 

issues has never been limited to governmental interests 

alone. On the contrary, popular interest in the polar regions has always been considerable. The post–Second 

World War situation stimulated individuals as well as international organizations to bring forward ideas pertaining to the administration of the polar areas. The role of the 

newborn United Nations seemed self-evident to many. So, 

for instance, the Women’s International League for Peace 

and Freedom favoured control and administration of the 

uninhabited polar areas by one or two mandate commissions under the Trusteeship Council of the United Nations. 

Such administration was expected to result in, inter alia, 

equal and free access to raw materials (including to mineral resources), organized and adequate scientific research, 

and surveys whose results should be available to all those 

interested. The organization also argued for equitable arrangements regarding fishing and whaling rights, as well 

as prevention of “destructive methods in connection with 

whaling and sealing”.3

 This proposal was brought to the 

attention of the UN Trusteeship Council, which, however, decided to take no action. A similar proposal was 

made in 1947 by the Commission to Study the Organization of the Peace. Dr. Julian Huxley, the first DirectorGeneral of the UN Educational, Scientific and Cultural 

Organization (UNESCO), wished to see UNESCO set up 

an “International Antarctic Research Institute.” A member of the British parliament, Lord Edward Shackleton, 

son of the explorer Ernest Shackleton, argued in favour 

of involvement by the United Nations in the settlement of 

the Antarctic question. Others, such as Dr. Dana Coman, 

president of the American Polar Society, proposed, in an 

internal discussion at the State Department, that Antarctica should be made the first “international park.” 

There was, in short, a newly awoken interest in Antarctic political affairs that presumably stemmed from 

reading press reports on the growing friction in Antarctica 

and, furthermore, mirrored a confidence in the newly established United Nations.

Although the Second World War had brought with it 

a decrease in scientific activities in Antarctica, the political 

predicament with respect to Antarctica and, in particular, 

to the question of sovereignty over Antarctic territory had 

become more and more tense as British, U.S., Argentine, 

and Chilean activities during and after the ending of WWII 

clearly showed. It is often forgotten that all these states 

had sent military expeditions to Antarctica and undertook 

military operations there between 1943 and 1948. 

The obviously increasing tension in Antarctica, together with the growing embarrassment to the United 

States of having three of its allies, namely, Chile, Argentina, and the United Kingdom, as antagonists with respect 

to sovereignty disputes in Antarctica, no doubt contributed to a conviction in the State Department that there 

was a compelling need for a more vigorous solution to 

the question of Antarctica.4

 There was also a fear that the 

Soviet Union would exploit the situation.5

The United States had to come up with a proposal 

that not only struck a balance between the United States’ 

interest in Antarctica and the claimant states’ interests but, 

at the same time, circumvented the perceived risk of Soviet 

involvement. The United States therefore became a key 

player in initiating the consultations on Antarctica in the 

late 1940s. But the United States was not alone.

The Proposals for a Solution, 1939–1959

In fact, the suggestions and initiatives related to the 

future management of Antarctica were numerous, and 

it is not possible to address all of them in this paper. I 

will focus on only a few initiatives while asking readers 

to bear in mind that discussions were ongoing throughout 

the period from 1939 onward, with the exception of the 

WWII period.6

In sum, one can say that the first post-WWII initiative 

came from Chile and the action that led to the Antarctic 

Treaty came from the United Kingdom.

In October 1947, Chile, in reference to an initiative by 

the United States in 1939, asked the United States about 

its view on a possible convocation of an Antarctic Conference and of the likelihood of a territorial claim by the 

United States.7 The background to the Chilean query is 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 3

that in late 1939, the United States had put forward the 

idea of a common inter-American policy with regard to 

the Antarctic. This policy consisted, inter alia, of an arrangement should the investigations and surveys show 

that natural resources might be developed and utilized. 

According to the U.S. proposal, all these governments 

should enjoy equal opportunities to participate in such development and utilization.8

 The 1939 initiative was clearly 

related to the claims and the issue of enjoying equal rights 

in possible development and utilisation. 

Argentina had also put forward the idea of a conference on Antarctica in 1940 in proposing that an international conference among states claiming rights and interests 

in Antarctica should be assembled, with the objective of 

determining the “juridico-political status of that region”.9

The United States’ initiative in 1939–1941 on a 

common inter-American policy on Antarctica was unsuccessful. For obvious reasons, the Second World War 

overshadowed the Antarctic question, and it was temporarily set aside. In the meantime, the global geopolitical 

map changed. When Chile chose to resurrect the U.S. idea 

in 1947, the United States was already in the process of 

reconsidering its Antarctic policy. The U.S. response therefore conveyed the message that the time was not then opportune for such a conference, while also assuring that 

the “United States attitude remains essentially the same 

as it was at that time”.10 While the internal discussion in 

the United States went on, the tension between the United 

Kingdom, Argentina, and Chile sharpened, and the United 

Kingdom contemplated taking the Antarctic controversy 

to the International Court of Justice. 

Draft Agreement on Antarctica, 1948

During the early months of 1948 the Draft Agreement 

on Antarctica was prepared in the State Department. It 

should be noted that the draft recommended the establishment of an international status for Antarctica and also 

that the United States should make official claim to areas 

in the Antarctic, so as to place the United States “on an 

equal footing with the other seven powers.” The claim was 

not to be announced until after an international settlement 

had been obtained.11 The draft contained a proposal for 

the establishment of a trusteeship under the United Nations and joint sovereignty over the continent among eight 

countries, namely, Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, 

Norway, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the 

United States. 

In reality, the United States’ draft was a combination of a trusteeship proposal and a condominium. Not 

surprisingly, the idea of “pooling claims” did not to appeal to the claimant states,12 irrespective of the U.S. ambitions to blur this by the attempts to launch the proposal as 

a “trusteeship proposal.”13

Although the draft agreement contains no explicit reference to the freedom of scientific research in the area, it 

was “intended to provide for complete liberty of bona fide 

scientific research.”14 This ambition was underlined by the 

obligation on the parties to foster free access to and freedom of transit through or over the area, although under 

rules prescribed by the commission that was proposed to 

be set up. It should be noted that, at that time, it was not a 

U.S. objective to declare Antarctica a demilitarised area,15

notwithstanding the major objective to lower the tensions 

in the area.16

The basic postulates that resulted in the proposal 

were an identified need to solve territorial disputes and 

a belief that a collective solution to the question of Antarctica would best prevent disturbances between the current claimant states, particularly since it was judged that 

such disturbances could be exploited by the Soviet Union. 

There was, furthermore, an assumption that no significant 

exploitable resources existed in Antarctica and that the 

value of Antarctica was primarily scientific. 

The U.S. proposal was designed to legitimise the collective administration of Antarctica and to prevent certain 

“external interference” (read: the Soviet Union and its socalled “satellite states”).17 The proposal foresaw the possibility of admitting states other than the eight original states 

that had a “legitimate interest” in Antarctica. It was in this 

context that the idea of a retrospective “activity criteria” as 

a key to admittance surfaced.18 The draft was also designed 

to meet possible criticism of “by-passing and weakening 

the United Nations” since it was considered important for 

the United States to fully support the United Nations.19

During the course of developing the proposal, the 

United States consulted few other governments. The consultations with the United Kingdom, and later with Chile, 

were, however, crucial to the development.20 The British 

reaction caused the State Department to elaborate a revised draft agreement “to provide for a condominium.”21

The Escudero Proposal, 1948

A few months later, in July 1948, a representative of 

the State Department arrived in Santiago and thereafter in 

Buenos Aires to discuss the Antarctic question. It was during the discussion in Santiago that the Chilean representative, Professor Escudero, expressed doubts as to whether 

the trusteeship would be applicable under the UN Charter 
4 • science diplomacy

and voiced the idea of a joint declaration by a limited group 

of states, which would freeze the current legal rights and 

interests in Antarctica for a period of 5 or 10 years. During that period, actions in Antarctica by the states party to 

the declaration would have no legal effects on their rights. 

This was the so-called modus vivendi proposal and the 

embryonic form of “the Escudero proposal”22 presented 

later and designed to be a means of conflict moderation as 

well as to prevent any interpretation that Chile (or other 

claimants) would relinquish claims to sovereignty. 

New U.S. Proposal

At this early stage the United States neglected the 

Chilean idea of a modus vivendi agreement and decided 

instead to present the new version of its previous proposal 

to a wider circle of interested states, which included Chile 

and also Argentina, Australia, France, New Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom. This version was built on 

the comments made by the United Kingdom.23 The trusteeship idea was abandoned and turned into a pure proposal for a condominium.24

The obligation to cooperate with the specialised 

agencies of the United Nations now constituted the only 

connection with the United Nations. Furthermore, the 

commission was to constitute “the actual government” 

with “full executive and administrative powers,” and decisions on matters of substance were to be taken by a twothirds majority. 

Not surprisingly, the proposal was not embraced 

wholeheartedly by the recipients, most of whom neither 

seemed to have had much idea about what was going on, 

nor had seen the proposal in advance. Hence, the responses 

varied on a scale from disapproval to sceptical consent. 

Argentina declared a clearly negative view to any international regime. Chile disapproved of the condominium 

solution but underlined a favourable attitude to a modus 

vivendi solution. Norway considered the establishment of 

an international administration “unnecessary.” Having 

taken an initially unfavourable view, Australia and New 

Zealand declared their willingness to “go along,” but New 

Zealand underlined that a closer relationship with the 

United Nations was preferable. France was reluctant and 

asked for clarification. The United Kingdom cautiously 

advised its acceptance “in principle and as a basis for discussion”.25 None of the claimants were prepared to waive 

their claim and turn it into a “pooled” sovereignty.

However, the United States made its initiative public 

on 28 August 1948.26 According to the press release, the 

suggested solution (“some form of internationalization”) 

should best be such as to promote scientific investigation 

and research. The question of cooperation in scientific research as such was not addressed.27 Reactions from states 

that had not been consulted did not fail to appear. South 

Africa and Belgium declared that they considered themselves entitled to participate in an Antarctic settlement.28

Chile was, as mentioned, still in favour of an international “understanding” in the form of a declaration. Chile 

had formally rejected the U.S. proposal. Instead, Chile 

proposed an agreement to exchange scientific data and 

including nonstrengthened claims by activity. Chile came 

back to the idea voiced by Escudero in the earlier bilateral 

discussions.

The negative responses to the specific proposal by the 

United States, together with the positive views expressed 

on an international solution to parts of the Antarctic question, such as scientific cooperation, led the United States to 

reconsider its proposal. It was concluded that the Chilean 

proposal offered the best prospect if it were modified on 

certain points29 since it was considered to be too temporary and declaratory in nature. 

The U.S. Draft Declaration on Antarctica, 1950

A new blueprint entitled Draft Declaration on Antarctica was therefore elaborated by the Department of State 

in early 1950. Prior to the new outline, the United Kingdom had been consulted, and its suggestions were incorporated in the United States’ draft.30 The new proposal 

now contained the Chilean idea of “freezing of claims.”

Irrespective of the fact that the new draft was labelled “declaration” and not “agreement,” its content resembled more an agreement than a declaration, although 

it had entirely left out the ideas on pooling of sovereign 

claims and collective governance. Instead, the Draft Declaration was an agreement on cooperation, to the benefit 

of all individual participants. Conscientiously drafted, it 

contained a provision that the parties to the declaration 

were disposed to discuss territorial problems in Antarctica and to freeze the claims. The area of application was 

identified as the territory south of 60°S latitude. Freedom 

of scientific research among the parties and its nationals 

and the exchange of scientific information were cornerstones of the declaration. A committee should be created, 

to which governments should report, but it would have 

no decision-making power. The question of third states’ 

activities in Antarctica was cautiously addressed by stating 

that the committee could make recommendations in relation to third states wishing to conduct scientific research. 

If such expeditions were carried out, they would not be 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 5

recognised as a basis for territorial claims. The declaration was of limited duration (5 or 10 years was proposed) 

but foresaw a possible future Antarctic Conference and, 

hence, an in-built opportunity to prolong the agreement.31

Soviet Reactions

The State Department had calculated in 1948 that its 

first motion would prevent Soviet intervention in the process.32 The exclusion of the Soviet Union from any future 

Antarctic solution remained a paramount objective. 

The first indication that this was not a procedure that 

the Soviet government would observe in silence came via 

articles in Pravda and Izvestiya on 11 February 1949. The 

articles reported of a meeting of the All-Union Geographic 

Society, during which the president of the society, Lev 

Semyonovich Berg, declared that the Soviet Union had a 

valid claim to Antarctic territory based on the discoveries 

of the “Russian” navigators Bellingshausen and Lazarev.33

Furthermore, the states that had an interest in Antarctica 

should be those that formed an Antarctic regime. A resolution with such content was adopted by the meeting of the 

society.34 The wording of the resolution is almost identical to that of the Soviet diplomatic note to be delivered 

later. These news articles were observed, inter alia, in the 

United States and the United Kingdom but elicited no formal reactions on the part of the countries involved in the 

Antarctica discussions.

On 8 June 1950, the Soviet Union sent a memorandum to the United States, the United Kingdom, France, 

Norway, New Zealand, Australia, and Argentina stating 

that “the Soviet Government cannot recognize as legal any 

decision regarding the regime of the Antarctic taken without its participation.”35

U.S. Proposal on a Modus Vivendi, 1951

It has been maintained that “the negotiations ceased” 

after “the Soviet Note of June 1950 and the outbreak of 

the Korean War” on 25 June 1950. This belief does not 

seem to be correct. Despite the Korean conflict, Chile and 

the United States continued to exchange revised versions 

of the modus vivendi proposal during 1950 and 1951. 

However, the Korean situation no doubt put a damper on 

the discussions.36

The State Department sent a new draft, now labelled 

Modus Vivendi, to the Chilean Embassy on 14 November 1951.37 It differed little from the previous proposal. 

The United States stated that the only substantive change 

was that it addressed the collection of fees, so as to meet 

Chile’s concern. Under the new proposal, the collection 

of fees would not prejudice the right of any other party. 

There was, however, another substantial change. The article on the right to perform scientific research in Antarctica 

had been redrafted. Chile returned to the proposal in the 

autumn of 1953.38

In the meantime, the U.S. policy on Antarctica was 

under continuous assessment, and it was therefore anything but clear and consistent.39 The interest focused 

primarily on the pro et contra arguments in relation to 

a pronouncement of a U.S. claim, the forthcoming U.S. 

expedition, and the emerging plans for an International 

Geophysical Year (IGY).40 The idea of a modus vivendi 

was not entirely abandoned, but in view of the fact that 

the United States had had no official activity in Antarctica since 1948, the character of the argumentation was 

modified.41 President Eisenhower accentuated the option 

of focusing the politics on a reaffirmation of U.S. rights 

and claims, rather than announcing a claim.42 Documents 

from 1954 indicate that the United States had now deserted the idea of an internationalisation of Antarctica 

while “still being in favour of a standstill agreement between friendly powers.”43 The primary objectives, laid 

down by the National Security Council, were a solution 

to the territorial problems of Antarctica so as to “ensure maintenance of control by United States [sic] and 

friendly powers and exclude our most probable enemies” 

and freedom of scientific research and exchange of scientific data “for nationals of the United States and friendly 

powers.”44

Antarctica surfaced as a global political factor—an element in the politics of containment. 

Political Development in the Mid-1950s

In 1955, the United Kingdom filed the Antarctica 

Case at the International Court of Justice, but the case 

was removed from the court’s list since the court found 

that it did not have any acceptance by Argentina to deal 

with the dispute.45

In January 1956, the New Zealand prime minister, the 

former Labour leader of the opposition Walter Nash, proposed that Antarctica should be a UN trusteeship.46 Nash 

also proposed the abandonment of claims in Antarctica.47

Allegedly inspired by Nash,48 India proposed in early 1956 

that the question of Antarctica be included in the agenda 

of the UN General Assembly. According to an explanatory 

memorandum, the reason for the initiative was that India 

wanted “to affirm that the area will be utilised entirely for 

peaceful purposes and for the general welfare.” Another 
6 • science diplomacy

objective was to secure “the development of Antarctica’s 

resources for peaceful purposes”.49

The Indian request was evidently caused by a concern 

that Antarctica would be utilised for nuclear testing. There 

was no attempt to transfer the issue of territorial claims to 

the UN agenda, but rather, the attempt was to secure the 

peaceful use of Antarctica, a concern that the United States 

tried to meet by assuring that the United States had no intention in using Antarctica as a nuclear site.50 Documents 

disclose U.S. concern that the Indian move was inspired by 

the Soviet Union and that it would attract “neutral states.” 

The claimant states were also clearly negative to the Indian 

proposal, and Argentina and Chile argued that it would be 

contrary to Article 2, paragraph 7, of the UN Charter.51 The 

Indian proposal was withdrawn by 4 December 1956.52

A Revival of the U.S. Condominium Proposal, 1957

The United States became more and more aware of the 

urgent need to revise (or rather to formulate) an Antarctic 

policy before the IGY, not least in light of the controversy 

among the United Kingdom, Chile, and Argentina and the 

Indian proposal to include the question of Antarctica at the 

UN. The U.S. fear of a UN involvement seems to have been 

related to anxiety about getting the Soviet Union involved. 

A condominium was considered preferable to a trusteeship. By the spring of 1957 the U.S. plans for proposing 

a condominium had come to fruition.53 It was considered 

that a condominium would be consistent with the assertion of claims, which was the only way to persuade most 

of the claimants to accept the idea. A condominium, it was 

argued, could be designed “to facilitate the further development of the area in the interest of all mankind.” The idea 

of a condominium could “be presented as a dramatic Free 

World initiative.” Although the idea was not a watertight 

way of keeping the Soviet Union outside the condominium, 

it was assessed that such ambitions on the part of the Soviet Union could be curbed.54 This assessment was wrong.

The United Kingdom’s Proposal

Before the United States had formulated a policy on 

the future of Antarctica and decided on how to proceed 

however, the United Kingdom proposed quadripartite 

talks among the United States, Australia, New Zealand, 

and the United Kingdom. These quadripartite talks were 

apparently preceded by talks in London between Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and the United Kingdom.55 A major difference between the British and U.S. 

perspectives at the time was the view on Soviet participation. The United Kingdom’s more realistic view of the 

situation apparently presupposed that the Soviet Union 

could not be left outside an agreement and hence calculated that it would be included, whereas the United States 

remained negative to such inclusion.56 The British initiative is yet another example of the role the United Kingdom 

played in setting in motion the negotiations of the Antarctic Treaty. The four-power talks prepared the ground for 

entering into the more formal Preparatory Meeting.

On 15 July 1958, a new attempt to include the question 

of Antarctica on the UN agenda was made by India. The attempt was unsuccessful.57 At that time, the IGY was in full 

progress, the United States had convened a Conference on 

Antarctica, and the Preparatory Meeting had commenced.

Elements That Bore Fruit from the Early Proposals

Several elements in the Antarctic Treaty can be traced 

back to the earlier proposals. A brief recounting gives the 

following list.

1. The removal of Antarctica from the arena of international disputes. The objective survived, although the 

motives did not, namely, the fear that the Soviet Union 

might exploit the potential conflict and that the United 

States did not benefit from such friction.

2. Safeguarding individual interests; limited participation by states with special interests. During the course 

of discussions on the proposals, no one seems to have 

proposed an open-ended group of participants. From the 

outset, and from the U.S. perspective, there was a clearly 

identified group of states with so-called special interests. 

No other state claimed the right to participate, nor was 

there a discussion on the “legitimacy” of the states to regulate. Those states that claimed the right to participate in 

an Antarctic solution later became original signatories to 

the Antarctic Treaty. 

3. Obligation to cooperate with the United Nations 

and other organisations. The obligation to cooperate with 

the United Nations underwent a negative transition during 

the discussions from a clear trusteeship proposal, under 

which an Antarctic trusteeship would have been a UNsanctioned administration, or a condominium, possibly 

sanctioned by the UN, to an obligation to cooperate with 

specialised agencies of the UN.

4. Freedom of scientific research, freedom of movement, and cooperation. The question of “freedom of 

scientific research” was directly related to the identified 

group of participants, or “friendly powers.” Freedom 

of scientific research on the high seas would still prevail 

under international law. However, the idea of cooperation 

in other areas as well and the obligation to cooperate developed in the Antarctic Treaty. 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 7

5. Public interest and the benefit of scientific progress 

to “people.” Public interest in Antarctica is well documented, and it had the benefit of bringing in funds and 

economic support for the poorly funded scientific community. The general assertion that mankind would benefit 

from scientific progress was considered a fact rather than 

a matter to be debated. 

6. Demilitarisation; peaceful use. Even if the proposals were aimed at preventing Antarctica from becoming 

an arena for international conflicts, there was no direct 

proposal with respect to a demilitarisation of the area.

7. Exploitation and conservation of resources. At 

the time, it was judged that there were no economically 

exploitable resources in Antarctica, with the possible exception of marine living resources, which were considered 

not to be included in an agreement because fishing activities were subject to the freedom of the high seas. Regulation and conservation of resources (except whaling) were 

therefore not an issue. 

8. Territorial scope: south of 60°S Latitude. A clear 

distinction is made between the continent and the water 

areas south of 60°S latitude. This distinction is less clear 

in the Antarctic Treaty. It was clear throughout the discussions that the high-seas freedoms south of 60°S latitude 

could not be limited.

9. Consensus. Attempts to have a decision-making 

procedure by majority rule failed. The claimant states 

were not prepared to accept any decision-making procedure that would not have given them a veto. The consensus principle was a prerequisite.

10. Duration. The discussions on the duration of the 

agreement mirrored, at an early stage, the tension between 

the wish to have a stable agreement and the concern on the 

part of the claimant states not to give the impression that 

they were relinquishing their claims. It was important to 

find a formula that satisfied the two aspects. 

It is therefore maintained that most elements in the 

Antarctic Treaty can be traced back to the previous proposals, especially to those based on the so-called Escudero 

proposal in 1948, which despite its ambiguity, would have 

been constructive enough to serve as a foundation for a 

stable agreement. The political ambitions alone did not 

lead to a result until 1957, when help came from a seemingly nonpolitical arrangement, namely, the IGY. 

The International Geophysical Year

The IGY exercise helped transfer the question of Antarctica from the table of diplomacy to the table of science, 

which was, indeed, a fortunate catalytic process for future 

legal and political development.

The agreement and achievements of the IGY are also 

of relevance to lawyers.58 One of the most important steps 

was the move by French Colonel (later General) Georges 

Laclavère to not allow political controversies to prevail 

over scientific efforts. From the very outset, namely, at 

the first Antarctic Conference in Paris in 1955, Georges 

Laclavère, the conference chairman, stated that there was 

no room for political considerations and underlined, in his 

opening address, the technical character of the conference. 

Political questions were not the concern of the conference 

since it was a conference about science.59 This declaration 

led to the conference unanimously adopting a resolution 

that ensured that “the objectives of the conference are exclusively of a scientific nature.”60 The political innovations 

of the IGY, such as the gentlemen’s agreement, “some international administration,” and the exchange of scientists between bases, were “political” elements that were 

later sanctioned and given a legal meaning in the Antarctic 

Treaty. 

The primary reason why the IGY remains relevant 

in the Antarctic context is that Article II of the Antarctic 

Treaty contains a cross-reference to the IGY. This crossreference is one component of the two prerequisites for the 

material application of the very fundamental provision in 

the Antarctic Treaty that deals with the right to perform 

scientific research in Antarctica. According to this article, 

“freedom of scientific investigation and co-operation toward that end, as applied during the International Geophysical Year, shall continue, subject to the provisions of 

the Antarctic Treaty” (my emphasis). This formulation is 

the result of a compromise. In order to understand the 

meaning of the wording of Article II of the Antarctic 

Treaty, it is necessary to examine what the relevant features of the IGY were.

First, the IGY was a decision made by scientists, 

which was supported by an understanding by governments, to put aside political and legal struggles—the 

gentlemen’s agreement—and to concentrate on the overall scientific aim. The gentlemen’s agreement survived in 

essence and is now reflected in Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty. Second, it featured participation and openness. 

Third, it outlined the importance of presence and activities 

in Antarctica. The “activity requirement” is reflected in 

Article IX, paragraph 2, but had precedents in earlier U.S. 

proposals. Fourth, it specified access to scientific data and 

cooperation. Also, the exchange of data and scientists between stations commenced with the IGY.61 This practice is 

reflected in Articles II and III of the Antarctic Treaty. Fifth, 

it required unanimity in decision making. The IGY conferences could make decisions for their own organisation of 

work. On such occasions the conferences worked under 
8 • science diplomacy

“the rule of unanimity.” This procedural rule is codified in 

the Antarctic Treaty, Articles IX, XII, and XIII.

In conclusion, most of the provisions in the Antarctic 

Treaty that relate to the performance of scientific research 

in Antarctica have their origin in the IGY. They were, as 

will be shown, taken up during the preparatory meetings 

before the Washington Conference, and from there, they 

found their way into the Antarctic Treaty. The treaty itself 

elaborated science as part of the requirement for acceptance of the treaty.

THE DEVELOPMENT FROM ONE SINGLE 

TREATY, THE ANTARCTIC TREATY, TO 

THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM

The Antarctic Treaty

It is not my intention to go through the provisions of 

the Antarctic Treaty but, rather, to shed light on what is 

not there, namely, resource management and administrative structures, despite attempts to regulate them in the 

treaty. Many, if not all, articles of the Antarctic Treaty 

are, of course, of utmost importance, but the heart of the 

treaty is Article IV (the article that deals with the claims). 

However, for the issue of building a legal regime for Antarctica, Article IX is of paramount importance since it is 

the legal basis for the administration of Antarctica. Article 

IX is structured around two basic components. The first 

relates to the meetings under the Antarctic Treaty (when, 

where, and how they can be held) and who can participate in those meetings. The second component relates to 

the mandate for these meetings and what measures can be 

taken during such meetings and by whom.

It is on the basis of this article that the entire legal management of the Antarctic region has been built. In short, 

Article IX is the foundation of the Antarctic Treaty System.

The Agreed Measures for the Conservation

of Antarctic Fauna and Flora

The Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora (AMCAFF), adopted by the Consultative Parties at Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting 

(ATCM) III (1964), was the first more-ambitious attempt 

to adopt elaborate conservation measures for Antarctica. The potential need for measures with respect to the 

preservation and conservation of living resources in Antarctica was foreseen in the Antarctic Treaty. The First 

Consultative Meeting had already addressed the issue 

in Recommendation I-VIII, and it could be said that 

AMCAFF grew out of that recommendation. The Agreed 

Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and 

Flora was not labelled a convention, but its form indirectly 

indicates its status as a treaty under the Antarctic Treaty. 

The Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic 

Fauna and Flora is considered by the Treaty Parties and by 

some authors as a comprehensive successful international 

instrument for wildlife conservation. It foreshadows a development within the treaty system with respect to environmental protection, transparency, information sharing, 

and the role of international organisations, namely, the 

Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR). 

The Convention on the Conservation

of Antarctic Seals

The next step was to regulate Antarctic seals, probably not so much because seals were threatened but because 

this step was part of a much-larger objective, namely, to 

accustom reluctant parties to the Antarctic Treaty to the 

idea that it was appropriate to deal with matters or conservation. The parties to the Antarctic Treaty took it upon 

themselves to regulate their potential activities in the highseas area. In this respect, the convention resembles a traditional fishery-conservation agreement.

New and important features of the Antarctic Treaty 

System62 were introduced by the negotiations on, and conclusion (in 1972) of, the Convention on the Conservation 

of Antarctic Seals (CCAS). First of all, the negotiations 

were held parallel to the ATCM and outside the Antarctic Treaty. The negotiating Antarctic Treaty Parties recognised that negotiation of the matters dealt with under the 

CCAS did not fall within the framework of the Antarctic 

Treaty. They further recognised that states, not parties to 

the Antarctic Treaty, could have a legitimate interest in the 

conservation and commercial exploitation of seals. The 

view that management of resources in the maritime areas 

south of 60°S latitude was outside the frame of the Antarctic Treaty was later to be modified. The Treaty Parties 

had obvious problems in tackling the question of whether 

the Antarctic Treaty was applicable to sea areas or not, 

hence the issue of high-seas rights. 

Second, the CCAS was the first treaty to address how 

to manage the economic exploitation of an Antarctic resource and also the management of a resource not yet economically exploited. 

Third, the CCAS introduced an “open accession formula.” There is no formal requirement that parties in spe 

be parties to the Antarctic Treaty. The CCAS strengthened 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 9

the role of SCAR, and the participation in 1972 of representatives from a specialised agency of the UN as observers 

and their de facto liberty to circulate documents were new 

instruments in opening up the system. Today, nongovernmental organizations and UN specialised agencies definitely 

have a role of their own within the Antarctic Treaty System. 

Wolfrum claims that the CCAS is interesting from a 

“Rechtssystematisch” (systematic) perspective, in that 

Consultative Parties as “selbstbestellte Sachwalter” (selfappointed guardians) for the Antarctic environment are 

established.63 Although I agree with such a conclusion, it 

is important to stress that such a situation was, indeed, 

facilitated by neglect of the issue on the part of the remaining international community. The Antarctic Treaty Parties were later to learn that being a self-appointed trustee 

is not easily recognised. Yet it should be stressed that if 

AMCAFF is regarded as a treaty, this development had 

been started by the conclusion of AMCAFF.

The Convention on the Conservation of

Antarctic Marine Living Resources

Despite the lack of enthusiasm for addressing the issue 

of the preservation and conservation of marine living resources at the Washington Conference, this convention 

only lasted until the first Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Meeting (1961), when four proposals were presented with 

respect to the conservation of living resources in the treaty 

area. The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research also 

recommended that conservation measures be taken.64

The Antarctic Treaty Parties decided in 1977 to commence negotiations. The participants included the 12 signatories to the Antarctic Treaty and states that had acceded 

to the treaty, namely, the German Democratic Republic, 

the Federal Republic of Germany, and Poland. A number 

of international organisations participated as observers: 

the European Community, the UN Food and Agriculture 

Organization (FAO), the International Whaling Commission, the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission, 

the International Union for Conservation of Nature, the 

Scientific Committee on Oceanic Research, and SCAR. 

Signals from the FAO and UN Development Programme for the need to exploit resources were met with 

strong reactions from the Treaty Parties.65 Other UN 

representatives spoke with a slightly different, more conservationist, voice. The UN Environment Programme suggested that it should be “involved in the protection of the 

Antarctic environment and the establishment of ecologically sound guidelines for exploration and exploitation 

of resources.”66 Nontreaty parties were also interested in 

exploitation. It was time for the Treaty Parties to secure 

control, and the CCAS had opened the door for the regulation of resources in international waters.

The aim of the Treaty Parties was to conclude a treaty 

before the end of 1978. As was the case with AMCAFF 

and the CCAS, the discussions had revealed that the area 

of application of such regulation was not self-evident, nor 

were the contents, nor the form of agreement. Questions 

were also raised as to who should participate in the development of a regime, what kind of institutional arrangements were needed, if any, how conservation measures 

could be enforced, and whether a dispute settlement procedure was needed. Yet the negotiations were fruitful. By 

agreeing to the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR), the parties to 

the Antarctic Treaty recognized among themselves a functional, efficient, regional treaty that applies both to areas 

that have the legal status of high seas and to areas that are, 

or are claimed to be, the territorial seas and exclusive economic zones of claimant states. It is a treaty that applies to 

areas that third parties clearly have rights to and interests 

in, as well as certain obligations, for example, under the 

UN Convention on the Law of the Sea. In addition, the 

CCAMLR brought about the first “institutionalisation” of 

Antarctica through the establishment of the commission 

and the Scientific Committee under the commission. Since 

the conclusion of the treaty, the CCAMLR has shown that 

it is capable of developing and adjusting to the requirements of the time.

When the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties 

(ATCPs) took control of the situation and decided to tackle 

the question of marine living resources, they acted preemptively. Any attempts by third states to exploit marine 

living resources in a claimed area would most likely have 

disturbed peaceful Antarctic cooperation; to use the wording of the Antarctic Treaty, they would have threatened to 

make Antarctica a scene or object of international discord. 

Convention on the Regulation of

Antarctic Mineral Resources

The decision to start negotiations on a minerals regime had had a long prelude. Many states realised at the 

time of the Washington Conference that there was a need 

to reach agreement on living and nonliving resources, but 

the issue was, at the time, far too complicated to even attempt accomplishing.

New Zealand raised the question of Antarctic mineral resources at a Preparatory Meeting before ATCM VI 

(1970), and there were many countries that saw the need 
1 0 • science diplomacy

for raising this issue, not least the United Kingdom. The 

decision to commence negotiations on a minerals convention was underlined by the aspiration to negotiate a 

minerals regime before any commercial exploitation had 

commenced. Only the Consultative Parties were initially 

allowed to attend the session of that meeting. That restriction changed after ATCM XII (1983), when NonConsultative Parties (NCPs) were invited for the first time 

to attend a Consultative Meeting. As a result, NCPs were 

also invited to attend the mineral negotiations. There is 

little doubt that the parallel development at the UN General Assembly (that is, an increasing criticism of the alleged “closed and secret nature” of the Antarctic Treaty) 

inspired the Consultative Parties to make that decision.

The Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities (CRAMRA) was adopted in Wellington on 2 June 1988, but it never entered into force, 

although not because of the external criticism stemming 

from the UN General Assembly. Instead, a revolution 

from within the Treaty Parties posed a great challenge. 

The treaty process was interrupted by Australian and 

French political turnabout. Belgium and Italy soon sided 

with France and Australia.67

The Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities is an interesting legal conception 

since it was negotiated as a regime for the management of 

resources that were known or believed to exist, but without any evidence that they would become economically 

exploitable. The negotiation of CRAMRA was not so 

much about the exploitation of resources as it was a tool to 

prevent disharmony and conflict in Antarctica. Hence, the 

Treaty Parties were obliged to address this delicate issue, 

although that was not how the nontreaty parties saw it. 

On the contrary, one of the main criticisms against the 

Antarctic Treaty Parties was the alleged lack of a mandate 

to negotiate a minerals regime since the Antarctic Treaty 

lacks any reference to mineral resources.

From a political perspective, CRAMRA is, at present, 

of marginal interest. However, the legal constructions in 

CRAMRA, the balance of interests between claimant and 

nonclaimant states, might serve as an example when the 

time is right to address other resource issues. 

Protocol on Environmental Protection

to the Antarctic Treaty

As has been shown, the initiatives to protect the Antarctic environment did not start with the Environmental 

Protocol. At the Preparatory Meeting (1989) to ATCM 

XV, Chile suggested that the question of “comprehensive 

measures” for the protection of the Antarctic environment ought to be addressed.68 Behind the choice of obscure words was the diplomatic insight that the time 

was not right for discussions on yet another convention, 

particularly in light of a situation in which the future of 

CRAMRA was at stake. A series of formal meetings were 

held, and the negotiations resulted in a proposal on a protocol to the Antarctic Treaty that was adopted in Madrid 

in 1991 and entered into force in 1998.

With the Environmental Protocol, the Treaty Parties 

took a step toward more-modern management of the Antarctic environment. In short, the protocol institutionalised 

the protection of the Antarctic environment, not only by 

requiring environmental impact assessments before activities take place but also by establishing the Committee on 

Environmental Protection. 

The Liability Annex

The Environmental Protocol, Article 16, foresees the 

adoption of a liability regime to elaborate rules and procedures relating to liability for damage arising from activities taking place in the Antarctic Treaty area and covered 

by the protocol. The first step in that direction was taken 

by the adoption of the so-called Liability Annex, at ATCM 

XXVII in Stockholm in 2005.69 Despite the fact that this 

annex is not yet in force, its conclusion meant that the 

Treaty Parties showed their preparedness to tackle difficult 

and serious issues relating to the prevention and restoration of the Antarctic environment.

CONCLUDING REMARKS AND A 

LOOK INTO THE CRYSTAL BALL

Article IV is clearly the heart of the Antarctic Treaty 

and the Antarctic Treaty System.70 However, Article IX, 

the article that allows for management of the continent, 

is an absolute legal and political necessity for stable cooperation and the peaceful use of Antarctica. No progress 

would have been possible without the so-called “measures” taken, according to the article.71 The establishment 

of a secretariat serves to facilitate the interactions of the 

claimants; the decision-making power remains with the 

ATCPs operating through the ATCM. In the meantime, 

the ATCPs have considerably developed, strengthened, 

and adapted the Antarctic Treaty System. 

After more than 20 years of debate, the Question of 

Antarctica was effectively taken off the agenda of the UN 

General Assembly in 200572; at that time, the assembly did 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 1 1

not request the secretary-general to submit a report to a 

forthcoming session and did not include it on the agenda 

of forthcoming sessions but only wished to “remain sized 

of the matter.” This decision can be seen as an important 

recognition of the successful management of Antarctica 

under and within the Antarctic Treaty System. The present 

secretary-general of the United Nations, Ban Ki-moon, was 

the first sitting UN secretary-general to visit Antarctica.73

It is sometimes claimed that it is the issue of illegal, 

unregulated, and unreported (IUU) fishing or tourism that 

constitutes the challenges to the Antarctic Treaty System. I 

do not share that view. The IUU fishing is certainly a threat 

to the Antarctic marine ecosystem, but not to the Antarctic 

Treaty System as such. The issue of IUU fishing is well taken 

care of within the context of CCAMLR,74 and management 

by CCAMLR has not been politically challenged by nonstate 

parties, nor has there been a proposal that the management 

of marine living resources would be better handled elsewhere.

The same goes for the issue of tourism. Tourism is a 

legitimate use of Antarctica, and tourists and individual 

explorers bring about a greater interest in the Antarctic 

region. The tourism industry has, in fact, helped to buttress the legitimacy of the Antarctic Treaty System, and the 

tourism industry is now a natural “party” to the system, 

though not legally, of course.

However, other issues are likely to pose more of a 

challenge, such as the continental shelf issue and the issues of bioprospecting and genetic resources. The reason is 

that these issues are so closely related to Article IV and the 

issue of claims. These issues are further complicated by the 

fact that we are discussing not only shelf areas stemming 

from the Antarctic continent but also shelf areas extending 

from north of 60°S latitude into the Antarctic Treaty Area.

I believe that these issues need to be more effectively 

and preemptively addressed by all the Antarctic Treaty 

Parties. The continental shelf issue is not an issue solely 

for those countries that have expressed claims or potential claims to the continent. This issue is, indeed, related 

to ensuring that the Antarctic will not become the scene 

of international discord. The Antarctic Treaty is a model 

for international cooperation at its best. It shows that cooperation is possible even in situations when sovereignty, 

the fight for resources, and different political aims are at 

stake. It is a heritage that needs to be nurtured. 

NOTES

1. This article is based on the research I did for my doctoral thesis 

“The Antarctic Treaty System: Erga Omnes or Inter Partes?” which was 

presented at the University of Lund, Sweden, on 31 January 1998. The 

dissertation is available through a few Swedish libraries and from the 

author. It is accepted for publication. The original text is, for obvious 

reasons, overloaded with footnotes. For the benefit of the reader I have 

only retained a selected number of footnotes.

2. The contents of what was to come were already foreshadowed by 

the famous joint declaration by President Roosevelt and Prime Minister 

Churchill in 1941. The declaration put forth eight basic principles for 

the conduct of states in their international relations. Declaration of Principles issued by the President of the United States and the Prime Minister 

of the United Kingdom, released to the press by the White House on 14 

August 1941, reprinted in American Journal of International Law 35 

(official supplement) (1941): 191–192. 

3. Emily Greene Balch, 1948, “The Polar Regions as Part of One 

World,” Survey Graphic 37(9): 392–393. Professor Balch had become a 

Nobel Peace Prize Laureate in 1946. The International Executive Committee of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom voted 

in favour of the appointment of an ad hoc committee to consider and 

report on the proposal to internationalise all uninhabited polar areas at 

a meeting in May 1947 in Geneva. 

4. The development was closely followed by the U.S. press, which 

took an active interest in the matter and thereby put a certain pressure 

on the government, for instance, by asking about the U.S. view on an 

international conference for the settlement of the claims to Antarctica. 

The Secretary of State to the Embassy in London, Telegram, Washington, 

January 30, 1947, in Foreign Relations of the United States, 1947, vol. I 

(Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1971), p. 1050.

5. Paper Prepared by the Policy Planning Staff, [Washington,] June 

9, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 979; and The Department of State to the British Embassy, Aide-Mémoire, Washington, June 

25, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 988.

6. A brief account of the background history is found in John Hanessian, “The Antarctic Treaty 1959,” International and Comparative 

Law Quarterly 9 (1960): 436–480. (Hereinafter Hanessian, ICLQ 1960.)

7. The Chilean Embassy to the Department of State, 13 October 

1947, in Foreign Relations, 1947, vol. I, p. 1052.

8. See “United States Instructions to Diplomatic Officers of the 

United States in the American Republics Proposing a Common InterAmerican Policy with Reference to the Antarctic,” extracts reprinted as 

US11121939 in W. M. Bush, Antarctica and International Law. A Collection of Inter-state and National Documents (London: Oceana Publications Inc., 1988), vol. 3, pp. 446–447. This document was preceded by, 

inter alia, an instruction of 8 August 1939 to diplomatic officers of the 

United States in the 21 American republics to give notice of the United 

States Antarctic Service expedition (The Acting Secretary of State to 

Diplomatic Officers in the American Republics, Washington, August 8, 

1939, in Foreign Relations, 1939, vol. II, pp. 9–10). The instruction is an 

indicator of (or at least leaves open) the possibility of a future U.S. claim. 

Simultaneously, President Roosevelt instructed Admiral Byrd, who was 

the commanding officer of the United States Antarctic Service, to take appropriate steps “which might assist in supporting a sovereignty claim by 

the United States Government” (President Roosevelt to the Commanding 

Officer of the United States Antarctic Service (Byrd) Washington, November 25, 1939, in Foreign Relations, 1939, vol. II, p. 13). As to the 

development at the Second Meeting of Ministers of Foreign Affairs of 

the American Republics in Havana in 1940, see Bush, Antarctica and 

International Law, vol. 1, p. 604. See also United Nations Treaty Series, 

vol. 161, p. 253, Article XVIII, which excluded Antarctica from any part 

of trusteeship. 
1 2 • science diplomacy

9. Argentinean Memorandum to the United Kingdom proposing 

a Conference to determine the juridico-political status of the Antarctic, 

reprinted in translation as AR11091940 in Bush, Antarctica and International Law, vol. 1, p. 605. The proposal was reiterated on several occasions (Bush, Antarctica and International Law, vol. 1, p. 606).

10. Department of State to the Chilean Embassy, Memorandum, 

Washington, November 3, 1947, in Foreign Relations, 1947, vol. I, 

p. 1052. The same message was also conveyed by the president at a press 

conference on 7 January 1947 (The Secretary of State to the Embassy in 

the United Kingdom, Telegram, Washington, January 30, 1947, in Foreign Relations, 1947, vol. I, p. 1050). At the same time, the internal 

discussions in the United States were intense. Although the United States 

at first favoured a trusteeship solution, other alternatives were contemplated, primarily an international administration in the form of a condominium. The initial attention given to a trusteeship solution under the 

UN Charter foresaw an identified group of especially interested countries 

as primarily responsible and who would “safe-guard special interests of 

certain countries by giving them permanent control of trusteeship administration”; see The Acting Secretary of State to the Embassy in the United 

Kingdom, Telegram, Washington, September 22, 1947, in Foreign Relations, 1947, vol. I, p. 1051.

11. Draft Agreement Prepared by the Department of State, [Washington, n.d.], in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 984. This 

document was circulated together with a Paper Prepared by the Policy 

Planning Staff [Washington], June 9, 1948 [PPS-31] (hereinafter PPS-31), 

which, in turn, was the result of a series of internal consultations during the spring of 1948; see Editorial Note, in Foreign Relations, 1948, 

vol. I, pt. 2, pp. 976–977. The paper was also submitted to the National 

Security Council (Editorial Note, p. 977, note 1). See also Editorial Note 

(p. 982) for reference to an international status. In addition, Hanessian 

(ICLQ 1960, p. 437, note 4) refers to a “Draft Communication Regarding the Antarctic,” Department of State, February 19, 1948.

12. R. E. Guyer, “The Antarctic System,” Recueil des cours 139, 

no. II (1973): 171. 

13. The draft text proposed that the eight states were to be “designated jointly as the administering authority of the trust territory” and 

that a commission, also consisting of the eight states, should be created 

and decisions be taken by a two-thirds majority. There was a prescribed 

duty for the commission to cooperate with appropriate specialised agencies of the United Nations and international scientific bodies. The tasks 

for the commission were to draw up plans for, inter alia, scientific research as well as to prescribe appropriate procedures under which states 

and private expeditions might be granted permission to conduct scientific 

investigations, develop resources, or carry out other activities consistent 

with the purposes of the agreement. 

14. Department of States to the French Embassy, Aide-Mémoire, 

Washington, September 28, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, 

pt. 2, p. 1005.

15. The Secretary of Defense (Forrestal) to the Secretary of State, 

Washington, 12 April 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, 

p. 973. Cf. Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 439 and note 12, who refers to a 

Department of State Memorandum (EUR) of 25 February 1948, Washington, D.C. Hanessian asserts that an “important new element, providing for the demilitarisation of the area,” was also included. Such an 

element cannot be found in the documents from this period reprinted in 

Foreign Relations.

16. The draft agreement provided for accession by other states. The 

proposed territorial scope of the agreement was “the Antarctic continent 

and all islands south of 60° South latitude except the South Shetland 

and South Orkney groups.” The area of application did not include the 

sea areas, the reason being that the United States did not wish to involve 

these areas for reasons of defence, security, and whaling.

17. This was by no means only a U.S. interest. Lord Shackleton 

claims that the proposals for a solution on the Antarctic question that 

had a UN involvement were not popular because such a solution could 

have attracted the Soviet Union to Antarctica. Shackleton in House of 

Lords Debate (1960), p. 167.

18. The Secretary of the Interior (Krug) to the Acting Secretary of 

State, Washington, January 8, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, 

pt. 2, p. 962. See note 22. 

19. It is difficult to see how the Soviet Union could have been 

kept outside the regime proposed in the draft agreement since Article 

86, paragraphs 1a and 1b, of the UN Charter (together with Article 23) 

would have provided for the Soviet Union to be a member of the Trusteeship Council.

20. The United Kingdom, which was the first country to be informed, indicated that an eight-power condominium was preferable to a 

trusteeship under the United Nations since a trusteeship solution would 

allow for the Soviet Union to interfere. The role of the United Kingdom, 

and in particular of the legendary Brian B. Roberts, in these early stages 

of the development is still hidden in the closed archives of the Foreign 

and Commonwealth Office. 

21. Editorial Note, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 992. 

Cf. F. M. Auburn, British Yearbook of International Law 43 (1971), who 

asserts that “the very word condominium brought shivers to the Foreign 

Office” (p. 86), “presumably due to the intractable problems detailed 

in D. P. Connell, ‘The Condominium of the New Hebrides’” (note 12). 

Auburn’s conclusion is difficult to reconcile with the information in Foreign Relations that the United Kingdom preferred a condominium to a 

trusteeship; see, e.g., Position Paper Prepared in the Office of the United 

Nations Political and Security Affairs, in Foreign Relations, 1955–1957, 

p. 647; and the observation of Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 440. 

22. The Ambassador in Chile (Bowers) to the Secretary of State, 

Telegram, Santiago, July 19, 1948, Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, 

pt. 2, p. 995. Professor Escudero was an acknowledged Chilean expert 

on Antarctic matters. He had, inter alia, in 1939 been appointed to 

study Antarctic questions and their bearing on Chilean interests; see 

Bush, “CH07091939,” in Antarctica and International Law, vol. 2, pp. 

307–308. It should be noted that the discussions in Argentina did not 

lead to a continuing discussion between the United States and Argentina 

like the meeting in Chile did between the United States and Chile. The 

prime concern voiced by the Argentine representative was that it was 

inadmissible that countries outside the Western Hemisphere should be 

given a voice within the American quadrant; see The Chargé in Argentina (Ray) to the Secretary of State, Telegram, Buenos Aires, July 21, 

1948, Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. 1, pp. 995–996. This was a shift in 

attitude; cf. note 18.

23. Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 997, note 2.

24. The Department of State to the French Embassy, Aide-Mémoire, 

Washington, September 28, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, 

pt. 2, p. 1005. See also, Bush, Antarctica and International Law, vol. 2, 

pp. 2, 165.

25. For the views of the consulted states, see Foreign Relations, 

1948, vol. I, pt. 2: Chile, p. 997, note 2, and Memorandum of Conversation, by the Under Secretary of State (Lovett), [Washington,] August 

16, 1948, p. 1002; Argentina, p. 997, note 2, and The Ambassador in 

Argentina (Bruce) to the Secretary of State, Telegram, Buenos Aires, November 1, 1948, p. 1011; Australia, Memorandum of Conversation, by 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 1 3

the Secretary of State, [Washington,] August 17, 1948, p. 1003, and The 

Ambassador in the United Kingdom (Douglas) to the Secretary of State, 

p. 1014; New Zealand, The Minister in New Zealand (Scotten) to the 

Secretary of State, Telegram, Wellington, September 7, 1948, p. 1005; 

United Kingdom, The Ambassador in the United Kingdom (Douglas) to 

the Secretary of State, Telegram, London, November 24, 1948, p. 1014; 

France, p. 1005, note 1; Norway, The Norwegian Ambassador (Morgenstierne) to the Acting Secretary of State, Washington, November 15, 

1948, pp. 1011–1013; United Kingdom, p. 997, note 2, and Editorial 

Note, p. 1015; and a summary of views in Paper Prepared in the Department of State, [Washington, n.d.], in Foreign Relations, 1949, vol. I, pp. 

800–801. See also Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 445 (Argentina).

26. Editorial Note, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 1004. 

The press release can be found in the File on Antarctica, Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, Doss. HP 53 P (1), containing the Department of 

State Press Release, August 28, 1948, No. 689. Apparently, the British 

Foreign Office and the Chilean Ministry for Foreign Affairs had already 

issued statements regarding the discussions on Antarctica. See also Department of State Bulletin 19, No. 479 (5 Sept. 1948). 

27. Chile explicitly stated an interest in scientific cooperation, Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 441.

28. Memorandum of Conversation by the Chief, Division of Northern European Affairs (Hulley), [Washington,] October 1, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, vol. I, pt. 2, pp. 1007–1010. The notes from which 

the South African chargé d’affaires spoke are reprinted as an annex. It 

is worth noticing that parallel to this, consultations between the United 

Kingdom, Argentina, and Chile had commenced, so as to avoid “naval 

displays” in the southern latitudes. These consultations resulted in a tripartite declaration on 18 January 1949 not to send warships south of 

60°S latitude, apart from customary routine movements.

29. Paper prepared in the Department of State, [Washington, n.d.], 

in Foreign Relations, 1949, vol. I, pp. 800–803; and Memorandum by 

the Secretary of State for the Executive Secretary of the National Security 

Council (Souers), Washington, August 29, 1949, in Foreign Relations, 

1949, vol. I, p. 805. See also Memorandum of Conversation, by the 

Chief of the Division of Northern European Affairs (Hulley), [Washington,] March 23, 1949, in Foreign Relations, 1949, vol. I, p. 795.

30. Draft Declaration on Antarctica Prepared by the Department 

of State, [Washington, n.d.], in Foreign Relations, 1950, vol. I, pp. 

905–906. The Chileans were apparently not informed about the British 

involvement. Memorandum of Conversation, by the Chief of the Division of Northern European Affairs, Washington, September 13, 1949, in 

Foreign Relations, 1949, vol. I, p. 806. For a similar vein of handling the 

matter, see Foreign Relations, 1950, vol. I, p. 907, note 2; and Memorandum by the Officer in Charge of British Commonwealth and Northern 

European Affairs (Hulley) to the Director of the Officer of North and 

West Coast Affairs (Mills) [Washington,] January 4, 1950, in Foreign 

Relations, 1950, vol. I, p. 905.

31. Draft Declaration on Antarctica Prepared by the Department of 

State, [Washington, n.d.], in Foreign Relations, 1950, vol. I, p. 905–906.

32. PPS-31, Washington, June 9, 1948, in Foreign Relations, 1948, 

vol. I, pt. 2, p. 982.

33. Foreign Relations, 1949, vol. I, p. 794, note 1. Bellingshausen 

was, however, Estonian, rather than Russian, although he sailed a Russian ship. He was received with lukewarm interest when he returned to 

Russia, but his achievement has, in recent times, been described as “second only to that of Cook.” G. E. Foggs and David Smith, The Explorations of Antarctica (London: Cassell Publishers Limited, 1990), p. 28. 

See Headland (Chronology), p. 115, index no. 433.

34. The Embassy in Moscow to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, 22 

February 1947, Swedish Ministry for Foreign Affairs, File on Antarctica, 

Doss. HP 53 P. See also Department of State Policy Statement, [Washington,] July 1, 1951, Foreign Relations, 1951, vol. I, p. 1727.

35. The Embassy of the Soviet Union to the Department of State, 

Memorandum Washington, June 8, 1950, in Foreign Relations, 1950, 

vol. I, pp. 911–913. Chile and the Soviet Union had no diplomatic relations, Klotz (America), p. 24.

36. F. M. Auburn, Antarctic Law and Politics (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1982), p. 86; Philip W. Quigg, A Pole Apart: The 

Emerging Issue of Antarctica (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company, 

1983), p. 136; and Bush, Antarctica and International Law, vol. 1, p. 57. 

But cf. Memorandum of Conversation, by the Officer in Charge of British 

Commonwealth and Northern European Affairs (Hulley), [Washington,] 

September 7, 1950, in Foreign Relations, 1950, vol. I, pp. 917–919, and 

Memorandum of Conversation, by Mr .Grant G. Hilliker of the Office of 

British Commonwealth and Northern European Affairs, [Washington,] 

March 5, 1951, in Foreign Relations, 1951, vol. I, pp. 1717–1718. See 

also Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 447.

37. Draft Declaration on Antarctica, Prepared in the Department of 

State, [Washington, November 14, 1951], Foreign Relations, 1951, vol. 

I, pp. 1734–1736.

38. Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 447.

39. Foreign Relations, 1952–1954, vol. X, p. 1738, note 5.

40. See the documents in Foreign Relations, 1952–1954, in particular, Draft Statement of Policy Proposal by the National Security Council, 

[Washington,] June 28, 1954, pp. 1744–1756, but also see Quigg, A Pole 

Apart, pp. 137–138.

41. Draft Statement of Policy Proposed by the National Security 

Council, [Washington,] June 28, 1954, in Foreign Relations, 1952–1954, 

vol. I, pp. 1754–1761. The debate was, to a large extent, a budgetary 

discussion; it is costly to fulfil and maintain a claim.

42. Memorandum of Discussion at the 206th Meeting of the National Security Council on Thursday, July 15, 1954, in Foreign Relations 

1952–1954, vol. I, p. 1758. President Eisenhower is quoted as having 

said that he “would rather offend the British than our Latin American 

friends regarding issues in Antarctica.” See also, Klotz, America, p. 25. 

43. Statement of Policy by the National Security Council, [Washington,] July 16, 1954, in Foreign Relations, 1951–1954, vol. I, p. 1761 

(approved by the president; see p. 1760). 

44. Statement of Policy by the National Security Council, [Washington,] July 16, 1954, in Foreign Relations, 1951–1954, vol. I, p. 1761 

(approved by the president; see p. 1760). 

45. Antarctica Case, United Kingdom v. Argentina, ICJ Report of 

Judgment, Advisory Opinions and Orders 1956, Order 16, March 1956, 

p. 14.

46. John Hanessian Jr., New Zealand and the Antarctic. Part II: 

International Political Aspects, in Polar Area Series, vol. II, No.3, (Antarctica) American Universities Field Staff. Report Service, (New York?) 

1962, especially pp. 3–8. As Labour leader of the opposition, Nash had 

proposed international control over Antarctica. His ideas did not receive 

support from the New Zealand government, but when back in power, 

he pursued the idea of international control of the area and also that 

the United Nations should approve of, but not necessarily administer, 

such a regime. Nash had previously in 1948, as acting foreign minister, 

expressed a positive attitude to the U.S. proposal on a condominium 

(Hanessian, New Zealand and the Antarctic, p. 3).

47. New Zealand orally maintained this idea up to the stage of the 

commencement of the Washington Conference. See Opening Statement 
1 4 • science diplomacy

by the New Zealand representative A. D. McIntosh, C.M.G. in Doc. 6 

at the Washington Conference. It is stated that New Zealand had been 

“prepared to consider the relinquishment of national rights and claims 

in Antarctica if such a step towards the establishment of a wider regime 

were generally agreed” (p. 1). “This is why my Prime Minister has put 

forward the view that the establishment of a completely international 

regime for Antarctica would require countries to forego their national 

claims . . . only on this basis that a fully effective administration of the 

whole of Antarctica could be achieved—an administration that could 

coordinate all activities and ensure the permanent neutralization of the 

area. Such an international regime could prepare for the eventual use of 

resources of Antarctica in a regulated and orderly manner” (p. 2). 

48. Hanessian, New Zealand and the Antarctic, p. 3. 

49. S. Chaturvedi, The Dawning of Antarctica (New Delhi: Segment 

Books, 1990), p. 72. See also Memorandum From the Assistant Secretary of State for European Affairs (Merchant) to the Under-Secretary 

of State (Hoover), Washington, February 24, 1956 and Telegram From 

the Department of State to the Mission at the United Nations, Washington, September 3, 1956, in Foreign Relations, 1955–1957, vol. XI, 

pt. II, pp. 643–645. The date of the request was 19 February 1956, 

and the explanatory memorandum was presented to the U.S. mission 

on 3 September. 

50. Memorandum From the Assistant Secretary of State for European Affairs (Merchant) to the Under-Secretary of State (Hoover), Washington, February 24, 1956 and Telegram From the Department of State 

to the Mission at the United Nations, Washington September 3, 1956, in 

Foreign Relations, 1955–1957, vol. XI, pt. II, pp. 643–645. 

51. See the document “Question of Antarctica” attached to a Position Paper Prepared in the Office of the United Nations Political and 

Security Affairs, in turn attached to a Memorandum From the Director of 

the Office of the United Nations Political and Security Affairs (Adams) to 

the Assistant Secretary of 1956, in Foreign Relations, 1955–1957, p. 648. 

52. Memorandum From the Acting Assistant Secretary of State for 

Inter-American Affairs (Rubottom) to the Secretary of State, Washington, December 4, 1956, in Foreign Relations, 1955–1957, p. 652. 

53. Memorandum From the Director of the National Security 

Council Secretariat (Boggs) to the National Security Council Planning 

Board, including enclosures, among others a Draft Statement of Policy 

by the National Security Council on Antarctica, in Foreign Relations, 

1955–1957, vol. XI, pp. 675–689. 

54. Paper Prepared in the Department of State [n.d.], Subject: 

Establishment of a Condominium of Antarctica, in Foreign Relations, 

1955–1957, pp. 681–682. It was perceived that this “would not preclude 

the Soviets from claiming the right to participate in the administration of 

the area based on such claims as it might make, and while it would not 

force or necessarily bring about the withdrawal of Soviet personnel from 

the area, it would provide a basis for the U.S. and the present claimant 

powers to question its [sic] validity of Soviet presence in the area.” 

55. Telegram from the Department of State to the Embassy in the 

United Kingdom, Washington, August 23, 1957, in Foreign Relations, 

1955–1957, vol. XI, pp. 710–711. The United States informs London, 

Canberra, and Wellington that it is prepared to participate in such quadripartite talks. The telegram also reveals the U.S. plan to gradually establish and expand a condominium over Antarctica and that these plans 

were to remain secret until after the IGY. 

56. Telegram from the Department of State to the Embassy in the 

United Kingdom, Washington, August 23, 1957, in Foreign Relations, 

1955–1957, vol. XI, pp. 710–711. When the United States advised that 

it was prepared to participate in such quadripartite talks, it declared 

that [the State Department’s] “first reaction to British suggestion is that 

creation of condominium including USSR would not best serve interests and security free world and would be inconsistent with present U.S. 

policy.” See also Hanessian, ICLQ 1960, p. 452. As to the British role, 

see Ivo Meisner, “Evolution of the Antarctic Treaty System: Responding to Special Interests” (doctoral thesis, Scott Polar Research Institute, 

Cambridge, 1986). The contents of and comprehensiveness of the British 

role remains to be examined. 

57. Chaturvedi, The Dawning, p. 72.

58. For a historic perspective of the IGY, see Cornelia Lüdecke, 

“Parallel Precedents for the Antarctic Treaty,” in Science Diplomacy: 

Antarctica, Science, and the Governance of International Spaces, ed. Paul 

A. Berkman, Michael A. Lang, David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young 

(Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2011, this 

volume), pp. 253–263.

59. This took place at the First International Geophysical Year 

Antarctic Conference in Paris on 6–10 July 1955; see Marjorie M. 

Whiteman, Digest of International Law, vol. 2, Department of State 

Publication 7553 (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State, 1963), 

p. 1242. Also at a meeting of the Comité Special de l’Année Geophysique 

Internationale (CSAGI) in Brussels, 8–14 September 1955, the president 

of CSAGI, Dr. Chapman, emphasised that CSAGI was a strictly nonpolitical organisation; Sullivan (Assault) p. 277. In this light, it is particularly 

interesting that the (unofficial) “U.S. programs in Antarctica in connection with the IGY” should be designed in support of a policy designed to 

protect the U.S. national interest; see Memorandum of Discussion at the 

272nd Meeting of the National Security Council, Washington, January 

12, 1956, in Foreign Relations, 1955–1957, vol. XI, p. 642.

60. Resolution 1 approved by the conference on 10 July 1955, reprinted in Bush, “GE10071955,” in Antarctica and International Law,

vol. I, p. 501. For the text of the Argentine and Chilean statements, see 

Whiteman, Digest, pp. 1242–1243. 

61. As to coordination of scientific observations, see T. Nagata, pp. 

73–74, Shapley, p. 88. A scientist from the U.S. Weather Bureau wintered 

at Mirny Base, and a group of scientists, including a Soviet meteorologist, wintered at a U.S. base.

62. The notion of the Antarctic Treaty System had not yet been 

conceived by the time of the negotiations of CCAS.

63. Rüdiger Wolfrum, Die Internationalisierung (Location: Publisher, 1984), pp. 80–81.

64. Sec. paper/8, 10 July 1961, Suggested Form of Measures to Promote Conservation of Nature in the Antarctic, SCAR document. David 

W. H. Walton, “The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research and 

the Antarctic Treaty,” in Science Diplomacy: Antarctica, Science, and 

the Governance of International Spaces, ed. Paul A. Berkman, Michael 

A. Lang, David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young (Washington, D.C.: 

Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2011, this volume), pp. 75–88.

65. James N. Barnes, “The Emerging Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources: An Attempt to Meet New 

Realities of Resource Exploitation in the Southern Ocean,” in The New 

Nationalism and the Use of Common Spaces, ed. Jonathan I. Charney 

(Totowa, N.J.: Allanheld, Osmun & Co. Publishers Inc., 1982), p. 278, 

note 35.

66. Matthew Howard, “The Convention on the Conservation of 

Antarctic Marine Living Resources: A Five-Year Review,” International 

and Comparative Law Quarterly 38 (1989), p. 111.

67. For a more detailed analysis, see T. Scully, “The Development 

of the Antarctic Treaty System,” in Science Diplomacy: Antarctica, Science, and the Governance of International Spaces, ed. Paul A. Berkman, 
JACOBSSON / LEGAL FRAMEWORK FOR ANTARCTICA • 1 5

Michael A. Lang, David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2011, this volume), 

pp. 29–38.

68. Information paper, presented by the Delegation of Chile, PREP/

WP/1 and attachment, both are undated. On file with the author.

69. Annex VI to the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the 

Antarctic Treaty Liability Arising From Environmental Emergencies. 

70. Its importance has been stressed by Gillian Triggs; see Gillian Triggs, “The Antarctic Treaty System: A Model of Legal Creativity 

and Cooperation,” in Science Diplomacy: Antarctica, Science, and the 

Governance of International Spaces, ed. Paul A. Berkman, Michael A. 

Lang, David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young (Washington, D.C.: 

Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2011, this volume), pp. 39–49. 

For an analysis of Article IV, see G. Triggs, International Law and Australian Sovereignty in Antarctic (Sydney: Legal Books PTY, 1986), pp. 

137–150.

71. They were initially called recommendations but were subsequently renamed to decisions, measures, or resolutions, depending 

on their legal character. The importance of governance through the 

decisions, measures, and resolutions is dealt with in other contributions 

to this volume (e.g., Scully, this volume).

72. See UN General Assembly, Sixtieth Session, A/60/PV.61 GA 

Resolution 60/47, adopted without a vote on 8 December 2005 on the 

basis of a Report of the First Committee (A/60/454).

73. He returned to the UN and declared (at a briefing to an informal meeting of the General Assembly, New York, 21 November 2007) 

that “in the ice shelves of Antarctica, the glaciers of Torres del Paine 

and the rainforests of the Amazon, I saw up-close how some of the most 

delicate and precious treasures of our planet are being threatened by the 

actions of our own species. Antarctica’s message was chillingly simple: 

the continent’s glaciers are melting, far faster than we used to think. If 

large quantities of Antarctica’s ice were to vanish, sea levels could rise 

catastrophically.”

74. Denzil Miller, “Sustainable Management in the Southern Ocean: 

CCAMLR Science,” in Science Diplomacy: Antarctica, Science, and the 

Governance of International Spaces, ed. Paul A. Berkman, Michael A. 

Lang, David W. H. Walton, and Oran R. Young (Washington, D.C.: 

Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2011, this volume), pp. 103–121.

ABSTRACT. The late 1940s and early 1950s was a dangerous period of cold war posturing, with few bridges between the United States and Soviet Union. Nuclear weapons 

were a reality, and ballistic missiles were inevitable. It was during this period in the wake 

of World War II (as revealed in minutes of U.S. National Security Council meetings from 

1954 to 1959) when President Eisenhower became the catalyst for an unprecedented 

mixture of global strategies to achieve “a day of freedom and of peace for all mankind.”

One of the possibilities was to create an international status for the Antarctic area, as 

suggested in the draft agreement that was circulated by the United States to the seven 

claimant nations in 1948. Planning also was underway for the International Geophysical 

Year (IGY) in 1957–1958 with scientific satellites anticipated to advance upper atmospheric research and promote the freedom of space, which was seen to be analogous to 

the long-standing concept of the freedom of the seas. In support of this space policy, the 

White House restrained the Army Ballistic Missile Agency from launching its Jupiter-C 

rocket into orbit in September 1956, which enabled the freedom of space to emerge with 

the IGY launch of Sputnik in October 1957. Building on this momentum of scientific cooperation, in May 1958, President Eisenhower invited the Soviet Union and the 10 other 

nations involved with Antarctic research to begin secret negotiations that would result 

in adoption of the Antarctic Treaty in Washington, D.C., on 1 December 1959, creating 

an international space “forever to be used exclusively for peaceful purposes . . . with the 

interests of science and the progress of all mankind.” Following the 1958 Convention on 

the High Seas that had created the initial international space beyond sovereign jurisdictions, the Antarctic Treaty also became the first nuclear arms agreement with nonarmament and peaceful-use provisions that would become precedents for the outer-space and 

the deep-sea regimes that further established these areas as international spaces. The 

statesmanship of President Eisenhower that led to the Antarctic Treaty and the other 

international spaces demonstrates the role of science as a tool of diplomacy to build on 

the common interests of allies and adversaries alike for the lasting benefit of all humanity.

INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty was signed by 12 nations in Washington, D.C., on 

1 December 1959 (Figure 1). The following year, during ratification hearings 

in the U.S. Senate, it was suggested (Gould, 1960) that “the Antarctic Treaty is 

indispensable to the world of science which knows no national or other political 

President Eisenhower, the Antarctic Treaty, 

and the Origin of International Spaces

Paul Arthur Berkman

Paul Arthur Berkman, Scott Polar Research 

Institute, University of Cambridge, Lensfield 

Road, Cambridge CB2 1ER, UK, and Donald Bren School of Environmental Science and 

Management, University of California, Santa 

Barbara, California 93106-5131, USA. Correspondence: pb426@cam.ac.uk.
1 8 • science diplomac Y

boundaries; but it is much more than that . . . it is a document unique in history which may take its place alongside 

the Magna Carta and other great symbols of man’s quest 

for enlightenment and order.”

This comparison may seem presumptuous. Our civilization has nearly eight centuries of learning from England’s Great Charter of 1215, which has ensured that “no 

freeman shall be captured or imprisoned . . . except by 

lawful judgment of his peers or by the law of the land.” 

Even today, after 50 years, the Antarctic Treaty is still in 

its infancy relative to the Magna Carta, which has served 

as a worldwide precedent for constitutional law and national democracy.

The great symbol of the Antarctic Treaty and the 

quest for enlightenment and order were the genius of a 

man from Denison, Texas, who later served as the supreme 

commander of the Allied forces in Europe during the Second World War and then as 34th president of the United 

States. When President Dwight David Eisenhower entered 

office on 20 January 1953, he understood firsthand the 

devastation of global conflict as well as the dangers of a 

world with nuclear weapons (Eisenhower, 1953a): “The 

world and we have passed the midway point of a century 

of continuing challenge. We sense with all our faculties 

that forces of good and evil are massed and armed and 

opposed as rarely before in history.”

Yet, rather than pandering to the prevailing paranoia 

in the United States, with McCarthyism rampant (Fried, 

1997), President Eisenhower envisioned options for cooperation between the United States and Soviet Union, 

FIGURE 1. Signature of the Antarctic Treaty on 1 December 1959 in Washington, D.C., by Ambassador Herman 

Phleger from the United States, who chaired the Conference on Antarctica from 15 October to 1 December 1959 

(Department of State, 1960). The inscription reads, “To Laurence Gould without whom there would be no Antarctic 

Treaty. Warm Regards Herman Phleger”. Permission to reproduce the photograph courtesy of the Carleton College 

Archives.
BERKMAN / EISENHOWER AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 1 9

asking in his first inaugural address (Eisenhower, 1953a): 

“Are we nearing the light—a day of freedom and of peace 

of all mankind?” 

For President Eisenhower, this question was more than 

rhetoric. He was shaping postwar policy (Eisenhower, 

1965; Bowie and Immerman, 1998), as elaborated early 

in his administration with his “chance for peace” speech 

to the American Society of Newspaper Editors on 16 April 

1953. This speech, which was delivered the month after 

the death of Joseph Stalin, identified five precepts of international relations that resonate still (Eisenhower, 1953b):

First: No people on earth can be held, as a people, to be an 

enemy, for all humanity shares the common hunger for peace 

and fellowship and justice. 

Second: No nation’s security and well-being can be lastingly achieved in isolation but only in effective cooperation with 

fellow-nations. 

Third: Every nation’s right to a form of government and an 

economic system of its own choosing is inalienable. 

Fourth: Any nation’s attempt to dictate to other nations 

their form of government is indefensible. 

And fifth: A nation’s hope of lasting peace cannot be firmly 

based upon any race in armaments but rather upon just relations and honest understanding with all other nations.

It takes a visionary head of state to articulate such 

international balance and build on “common” interests. 

However, it takes a statesman to actually achieve peace, 

which is what President Eisenhower accomplished with the 

Antarctic Treaty in establishing a firm foundation for nearly 

10% of the Earth “forever to be used exclusively for peaceful purposes” (as stated in the Antarctic Treaty, Preamble). 

Projecting forward, the Antarctic Treaty may be analogous to the Magna Carta at the international scale, revealing a grand experiment that will take centuries to assess for 

its value in our civilization. This story is as much about the 

origin of the Antarctic Treaty and international spaces as 

it is about the statesman who rose to the occasion by using 

science as a tool of diplomacy for the benefit of all humanity. This story is about hope for future generations.

CONVERGING SECURITY MATTERS

The late 1940s and early 1950s was a dangerous 

period of cold war posturing, as the United States and 

Soviet Union raced to create ballistic missiles that could 

deliver nuclear weapons across continents (Joint Chiefs of 

Staff, 1957). Few bridges were being considered, much less 

built, between these superpowers. It was during this period 

of turbulence in the wake of World War II, as revealed in 

minutes of U.S. National Security Council meetings from 

1954 to 1959 (Table 1), when President Eisenhower became the catalyst for an unprecedented mixture of global 

security elements (ballistic missiles, geophysical research, 

and international spaces) that will remain forever as part 

of our civilization.

The world was inexorably introduced to nuclear 

weapons after their 1945 deployment by the United States 

to end World War II in Japan. By 1949, the Union of Soviet 

Socialist Republics also had proven capacity to detonate 

atomic weapons (Rhodes, 1996). The risk of deployment 

was not limited to air delivery by planes, as was the case 

during World War II, it was the inevitability of nuclear 

weapons that could be delivered by rockets with ranges 

across continents. 

Both the United States and Soviet Union clearly understood that such intercontinental ballistic missiles would 

become an enduring security threat to the welfare of all 

nations, people, and living systems on our home planet. 

However, with the iron curtain of the cold war descending (Churchill, 1946), cooperation between the two superpowers (especially regarding military topics, such as 

rockets) was at a standstill, with both nations independently pursuing the development of missiles that could 

annihilate the other. According to John Foster Dulles, US 

Secretary of State, it was a time of “brinkmanship” (Shepley, 1956:78): “The ability to get to the verge without 

getting into war is the necessary art. If you cannot master 

it, you inevitably get into war. If you try to run away from 

it, if you are scared to go to the brink, you are lost.”

After World War II, discussions began appearing 

about the establishment of institutions to govern regions 

beyond the boundaries of nations, international spaces 

that today extend across nearly 70% of the Earth’s surface (Kish, 1973). Among the first international spaces 

was Antarctica, where the United States had proposed 

“establishment of an international area” in its 9 August 

1948 Aide-Memoire and Draft Agreement (Department of 

State, 1948). These documents were circulated in secret by 

the United States to the embassies of the seven claimant 

nations (United Kingdom, New Zealand, France, Australia, Norway, Chile, and Argentina) with specific exclusion 

of the Soviet Union. The associated Draft Agreement included eight articles that defined a “special regime” for 

the “Antarctic continent and all islands south of 60 degrees south latitude, except the South Shetland and South 

Orkney Groups.” Although issues of resource exploitation 

and sovereignty were explicit, the Aide-Memoire clarified, 
2 0 • science diplomac Y

“The foreseeable values of Antarctica are predominantly 

scientific rather than strategic or economic. An international regime would be well calculated to promote the exploitation of these scientific values.”

Moreover, the United States and other governments 

increasingly recognized that “without scientific progress 

no amount of achievement in other directions can insure 

our health, prosperity, and security as a nation in the modern world” (Bush, 1945). Although the value of science 

was largely seen in terms of “new products, new industries, and more jobs,” there was nascent recognition that 

the “most recent example of large-scale international cooperation is to be found in the Second International Polar 

Year of 1932–33” (Roberts, 1949). Soon after, on 5 April 

1950, in a historic meeting at the home of James Van Allen, 

the 3rd International Polar Year (IPY) was conceived, 

initially with a focus on upper atmospheric research (Korsmo, 2007). Studying the upper atmosphere would involve 

rockets, and it was this geophysical research tool that facilitated convergence between ballistic missiles and the international governance of Antarctica.

With a global focus under the auspices of the International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU), the 3rd IPY 

was renamed in 1952 as the International Geophysical 

Year, the IGY (Jones, 1959; Berkman, 2003). At that time, 

the Soviet Union had yet to become effectively engaged in 

either ICSU or planning the IGY from 1 June 1957 through 

31 December 1958, even though Russia had contributed 

to the 2nd IPY (Laursen, 1959) as well as the 1st IPY in 

1882–1883 (Heathcote and Armitage, 1959). Soviet engagement largely began only after the October 1954 ICSU 

meeting in Rome, where the United States proposed that 

TABLE 1. Mapping of topics discussed in National Security Council (NSC) meetings that specifically referenced Antarctica or the International Geophysical Year (IGY) during the Eisenhower Administrations from 1954 to 1959, determined from copies of documents 

from the Eisenhower Presidential Library

 Antarctic Nuclear Science 

Reference Governance Resources Weapons Stockpiles Missiles Safety IGY Space Satellites

NSC (1954a) Xa,b,c,d X 

NSC (1954b) Xa,b,c 

NSF (1955a) X X X Xc

NSC (1955b) Xb,c X Xc 

NSC (1955c) Xa,b,c,e X 

NSC (1956) Xa X X X X X 

NSC (1957a) Xa,b X Xc 

NSC (1957b) X X 

NSC (1957c) Xa,b,c,f,g,h X X X 

NSC (1958a) Xa,b,c,f,g,i X X 

NSC (1958b) Xa,b,c,f,g X X X X

NSC (1958c) X X X X X X

NSC (1958d) Xa,b,c,f,g X X 

NSC (1959) Xa,b,c,f,g,j X 

aReferences the Antarctic claimant nations (Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, Norway, and United Kingdom).

bReferences possible claim by the United States.

c

References the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

dIncludes map of Antarctica with the Antarctic Convergence and map of claimant sectors.

e

Includes map of Antarctic claimant sectors. 

f Includes nonclaimant nations participating in IGY research in Antarctica (Belgium, Japan, South Africa, Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and United 

States).

gReferences the United Nations.

hIncludes map of Antarctic claims.

i

Includes 9 August 1948 U.S. Aide Memoire and Draft Agreement on Antarctica and 10 June 1950 Soviet Memorandum on the Antarctic. j

Includes 10 June 1950 Soviet Memorandum on the Antarctic; 2 May 1958 note delivered by the United States to the other 11 nations participating in 

Antarctic research during the IGY; and 3 May 1958 Statement by the president.
BERKMAN / EISENHOWER AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 2 1

satellite launches should become a significant component 

of the IGY (Siddiqi, 2000; Bulkeley, 2008). 

Still, in 1954, the United States had no intention to interact with the Soviet Union in managing Antarctica, as reflected by the statements in the National Security Council 

(1954a): “Orderly progress toward a solution of the territorial problem of Antarctica which would ensure maintenance of control by the United States and friendly powers 

and exclude our most probable enemies.” It was further 

believed that “any increase in activity in Antarctica, particularly by the U.S., may result in the announcement of 

claims by the USSR.” More specifically, it was decided on 

15 July 1954 “to make sure that Russia was not invited 

to take part in any discussions or negotiations respecting 

Antarctica” (National Security Council, 1954b).

These U.S. Antarctic policies began to reverse with active involvement of the Soviet Union in the IGY, as noted in 

a White House memorandum from the special assistant to 

President Eisenhower on 17 May 1955 (Rockefeller, 1955):

B. I am informed that the IGY in its Rome meeting last year 

endorsed the launching of a satellite as a desirable scientific step.

C. Since Russia is represented in this organization it would 

be in a position to know immediately of any U.S. offer made by 

the Government through the U.S. National Committee to launch 

a satellite.

The outcome of such discussions emerged on 20 May 

1955 with the United States’ first space policy to “endeavor 

to launch a small scientific satellite under international 

auspices, such as the International Geophysical Year, in 

order to emphasize its peaceful purposes” (National Security Council, 1955a): “a program for a small scientific satellite could be developed from existing missile programs 

already underway within the Department of Defense . . . 

the IGY affords an excellent opportunity to mesh a scientific satellite program with the cooperative world-wide 

geophysical observational program.” Unknown at the 

time, the IGY was opening a new channel for U.S.-Soviet 

dialogue, and by 13 July 1955, with information about 

“plans of the Soviet Government for an expedition to Antarctica in connections with the International Geophysical 

Year,” there was “desirability of a review of U.S. policy 

toward Antarctica” (National Security Council, 1955b).

ROCKET PRIORITIES

Quite separate from the IGY, satellites clearly were 

linked to ballistic missiles and government considerations 

about the eventuality of humankind in space (National Security Council, 1955a): 

The inference of such a demonstration of advanced technology and its unmistakable relationship of intercontinental ballistic missile technology might have important repercussions on the 

political determination of free world countries to resist Communist threats, especially if the USSR were to be the first to establish 

a satellite. Furthermore, a small scientific satellite will provide a 

test of the principle of “Freedom of Space.”

The concept of the “Freedom of Space” was seen to 

be analogous to the freedom of the seas (Hall, 1995). As 

a legal construct, freedom of the seas had been evolving 

for centuries. Notably, the Dutch jurist Hugo de Groot 

had written Mare Liberum in 1609 to describe certain 

freedoms beyond sovereign jurisdictions enjoyed by all 

humankind in the sea (Bull et al., 1990). The freedom of 

space would become a next step for humanity. 

Recognizing the challenge of “weapons many, many 

times more destructive . . . than ever known or imagined 

before,” President Eisenhower then introduced his Open 

Skies proposal in Geneva on 21 July 1955 (Eisenhower, 

1955). Noting that “disarmament agreements without adequate reciprocal inspection increase the dangers of war 

and do not brighten the prospects of peace,” President 

Eisenhower went on to propose that the United States and 

the Soviet Union would give each other a “complete blueprint of our military establishments” as part of a system of 

mutual aerial reconnaissance.

Before the day ended, Chairman of the Soviet Council of Ministers Nikolai Bulganin and First Secretary of 

the Communist Party Nikita Khrushchev rejected Open 

Skies as an obvious American attempt to “accumulate target information” (Hall, 1995). This result was not surprising to President Eisenhower, who later indicated in an 

interview that “we knew the Soviets wouldn’t accept it” 

(Parmet, 1972; Rostow, 1983). Immediately afterward, on 

29 July 1955, the White House publicly disclosed its intention to create a scientific satellite program as part of the 

IGY under the principle of the Freedom of Space (Hagerty, 

1955): “On behalf of the President, I am now announcing that the President has approved plans for this country 

for going ahead with the launching of small earth-circling 

satellites as part of the United States participation in the 

International Geophysical Year.”

Throughout this period, the United States also was 

continuing its rocket development programs through the 

Navy, Air Force, and Army (Erickson, 2005). An Advisory 

Group Committee on Special Capabilities was appointed 
2 2 • science diplomac Y

to determine which of these military branches would be in 

charge of launching the IGY satellites (Green and Lomask, 

1970; Baker, 1978; Day, 2007). 

Ultimately, the Navy was given responsibility for 

launching the IGY satellite with their Vanguard rockets, 

“first, to accent the scientific purposes of the satellite and, 

second, to avoid interference with topic priority missile 

programs” (National Security Council, 1957d). The most 

notable rocket progress, however, was under the technical 

direction of Wernher von Braun at the Redstone arsenal, 

which became the site of the Army Ballistic Missile Agency 

on 1 February 1956 to weaponize rockets and develop the 

Jupiter Intermediate Range Ballistic Missile (von Braun 

and Ordway, 1975). 

As expressed with firsthand knowledge by von Braun’s 

co-worker, Frederick I. Ordway III (F. I. Ordway, personal 

communication, 17 March 2007), it was during 1956 when 

an order was given to the Army Ballistic Missile Agency 

that it should not plan for, or attempt, a satellite launch because (Murphree, 1956) “satellite effort using the JUPITER 

reentry test vehicle may have the effect of disrupting our 

relations with the non-military scientific community and 

international elements of the IGY group.” This order was 

given despite the “considerable prestige and psychological 

benefits [that] will accrue to the nation which first is successful in launching a satellite” (National Security Council, 

1955a). What happened next is nothing short of amazing. 

On 20 September 1956, the four-stage Jupiter-C 

(Composite Re-entry Test Vehicle) RS-27 was launched 

from Redstone with the fourth stage intentionally inactivated and filled with sand (Lethbridge, 2000), which continued in subsequent nose cone retrieval tests (Logsdon et 

al., 1999). The Jupiter-C RS-27 attained a range of 3335 

miles (5367 km) and an altitude of 682 miles (1098 km) 

and “could have obtained sufficient velocity to place it in 

orbit, if the last stage had been activated” (Wade, 2008), 

more than a year before the IGY launch of Sputnik 1 by 

the Soviet Union on 4 October 1957 (Killian, 1977). 

The fact that the United States deliberately did not 

utilize all means available to become the first nation in 

space is inescapable. The Sputnik 1 launch was no surprise considering the United States had intelligence in July 

1957 that the President of the Soviet Academy of Sciences 

had stated (Dulles, 1957), “soon, literally in the next few 

months, the earth will get its second satellite.” Moreover, 

in his press conference on 9 October 1957 regarding the 

Sputnik 1 launch, President Eisenhower indicated (Eisenhower, 1957): “There never has been one nickel asked for 

accelerating the program. Never has it been considered 

as a race; merely an engagement on our part to put up a 

vehicle of this kind during the period [i.e., International 

Geophysical Year] that I have already mentioned.” 

Launching the first satellite would neither have accelerated nor impeded the ballistic missile capacity of the 

United States. What did the United States have to gain or 

lose by withholding the Jupiter C? 

Finally, on 31 January 1958 (three months after the 

world’s first artificial satellite), following the failure of the 

Vanguard rockets, the United States successfully launched 

the Explorer 1 satellite using a fourth-stage-activated 

Jupiter-C rocket. Although this rocket chronology is well 

known (e.g., Green and Lomask, 1970), it still begs the 

question of why the United States chose not to be the first 

in space, in stark contrast to the race for “priority” that 

has motivated nations and explorers alike throughout 

human history. The answer is revealed in a White House 

meeting with President Eisenhower four days after Sputnik 1, when the originator of the Freedom of Space doctrine and the person who appointed the ad hoc Group on 

Special Capabilities, Deputy Secretary of Defense Donald 

Quarles, observed (McDougall, 1985): “There was no 

doubt . . . that the Redstone, had it been used could have 

orbited a satellite a year or more ago. The Russians have 

in fact done us a good turn, unintentionally, in establishing the concept of freedom of international space.” 

The implication of Quarles’ statement is that a U.S. 

weapons system as the first in space would have exacerbated the cold war, which was a serious concern since the 

Soviet Union already had nuclear weapons that could be 

delivered by manned aircraft and there were “possibilities 

of a future war” (National Security Council, 1956): “The 

President asked the National Security Council to imagine 

a situation in which the United States had actually won a 

thermonuclear war. With so much destruction heaped on 

the country and with our ports in ruins . . .” 

This question reflects the underlying philosophy that 

President Eisenhower had been developing since his 1953 

“atoms of peace” speech to the United Nations General Assembly, seeking “an acceptable solution to the atomic armaments race which over shadows not only the peace, but 

the very life, of the world” (Eisenhower, 1953c). President 

Eisenhower was building toward a commitment from the 

Soviet Union not to weaponize space (Eisenhower, 2004).

Launching the first human-made satellite with the 

Jupiter-C, especially in 1956 before the IGY had even 

begun, would have contravened the first U.S. space policy 

(National Security Council, 1955a) and undermined the 

peaceful objectives of the IGY, very likely leading to the 

weaponization of space. Establishing “priority” with 

the Jupiter-C also would have destabilized international 
BERKMAN / EISENHOWER AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 2 3

scientific cooperation, which was growing in national security importance because the “major emphasis of U.S. 

programs in Antarctica was placed upon scientific activities in support of the International Geophysical Year” 

(National Security Council, 1957b). 

PEACEFUL PURPOSES ONLY

With the Soviet Union and United States both in outer 

space by early 1958, Antarctica “assumed some strategic 

importance in the light of recent technological advances 

and increased Soviet activity” (National Security Council, 1958a). This “strategic importance” of Antarctica 

provided the catalyst for the United States to finalize the 

governance of this international space, which had been 

considered on an ongoing basis since the Aide-Memoire 

in 1948 (Table 1). 

Since 1948, the United States had been suggesting 

that the “promotion of scientific investigation in Antarctica and the solution of conflicting claims might be accomplished by some form of internationalization” (National 

Security Council, 1958a; Table 1). Alternatives for this 

internationalization included a “condominium,” whereby 

Antarctic claims would be merged, as well as a United Nations’ “trusteeship” that could be established over part or 

all of Antarctica. 

By February 1958, with “urgency to the need to reconsider U.S. policy in Antarctica”, the United States also was 

considering (National Security Council, 1958a): “the conclusion of a multilateral treaty—which would include provision for an Antarctic organization—among the countries 

having direct and substantial interests in Antarctica, including the USSR.”It is noteworthy that this new policy position 

was opposed by the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who “wished to 

exclude the USSR from any voice in the administration of 

Antarctica” (National Security Council, 1958b). 

However, as noted by Secretary of State Dulles, the interests of the United States were to “demilitarize the entire 

area,” and there was “no way to push the Soviet Union out 

of Antarctica without resort to force” (National Security 

Council, 1958b). Moreover, the United States was specifically concerned about “Antarctica’s becoming a scene of 

East-West conflict or being used for military or nuclear development purposes” (National Security Council, 1958a). 

It also was recognized that the Soviet Union would agitate 

against any multilateral treaty for Antarctica if they were 

not a party. 

In the end, as reasoned by the Department of State 

(National Security Council, 1958a), the pros outweighed 

the cons for Soviet involvement, and on 3 May 1958, 

President Eisenhower extended an invitation to all nations 

conducting Antarctic research during the IGY (Eisenhower, 1958):

The United States is dedicated to the principle that the vast 

uninhabited wastes of Antarctica shall be used only for peaceful 

purposes. We do not want Antarctica to become an object of political conflict. Accordingly, the United States has invited eleven 

other countries, including the Soviet Union, to confer with us to 

seek an effective joint means of achieving this objective.

Within three months of President Eisenhower’s invitation, “all countries invited accepted; and preliminary information discussions with representatives of the 11 countries 

concerned have been held regularly in Washington since 

June 13, 1958” (National Security Council, 1959). 

Over the next 14 months, at the height of the cold 

war, the two superpowers and the other 10 IGY Antarctic 

nations contributed to 60 secret preparatory meetings in 

Washington, D.C., to hammer out a firm foundation for 

the Antarctic Treaty (Washington Post, 1959). This “secret 

advance consultation” was conceived for these nations 

“to reach agreement on the broad basis for an Antarctic 

organization” with the overarching objective “toward a 

peaceful solution of the problem of Antarctica” (National 

Security Council, 1958a). As a contingency, the “secret 

advance consultation” also enabled the United States to 

“prepare the way for cooperative arrangements . . . in the 

event of failure to achieve such an Antarctic organization 

which includes the USSR.”

With science as the “keystone common interest” 

(Berkman, 2002), the final negotiations were convened 

with the Conference on Antarctica at the Department of 

State annex on 1776 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, D.C., from 15 October to 1 December 1959, when 

the Antarctic Treaty was signed by the seven claimant 

and five non-claimant nations, which included the United 

States and Soviet Union (Department of State, 1960). 

Beyond prohibiting “any measure of a military nature,” 

the Antarctic Treaty became the first nuclear arms agreement in our world (Office of the Deputy Assistant to the 

Secretary of Defense for Nuclear Matters, 2007) by establishing that “any nuclear explosions in Antarctica and 

the disposal there of radioactive waste material shall be 

prohibited.” Moreover, the Antarctic Treaty instituted 

international inspection innovations that built on the 

Open Skies concepts proposed by President Eisenhower 

in 1955, so that unilateral “aerial observation may be carried out at any time over any or all areas of Antarctica 
2 4 • science diplomac Y

by any of the Contracting Parties.” Although other nations were involved in negotiating the Antarctic Treaty, 

particularly with regard to territorial claims, the nuclear 

arms and inspection provisions were directed by the two 

cold war superpowers for their cooperation in that part 

of the world initially. As heralded by the press that week 

in December 1959 (Cleveland Plain Dealer, 1959), “Cold 

War Thaws in Antarctic.” 

The Antarctic Treaty, which has been unchanged since 

it was signed an half century ago, is groundbreaking in its 

14-article simplicity and breadth to ensure that that the 

region south of 60°S latitude “shall not become the scene 

or object of international discord” (Antarctic Treaty, Preamble). As the catalyst for the Antarctic Treaty, the IGY 

demonstrates how science can serve as a tool of diplomacy 

that facilitates successful negotiations among nations beyond political, economic, or cultural barriers. 

Moreover, with critical contributions, especially from 

the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (Summerhayes, 2008), the Antarctic Treaty has evolved into a resilient system (Polar Research Board, 1986) that has come to 

include diverse components such as the 1980 Convention 

on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources 

and the 1991 Protocol on Environmental Protection to 

the Antarctic Treaty. Continuity of the Antarctic Treaty 

reflects the role of science as a “substantial” activity that 

inspires ongoing consultation among nations to resolve issues “in the interest of all mankind.”

BALANCING INTERESTS GLOBALLY

As a fundamental transition period in our civilization, the twentieth century was when we became a global 

community (Figure 2). The first half of the twentieth century was marred by devastating conflicts among nations 

on a global scale: the concept of world wars. In contrast, 

the second half of the twentieth century opened the door 

to a steep learning curve of international cooperation to 

resolve environmental and ecosystem issues that extend 

across as well as beyond the boundaries of nations. 

Amid the stockpiling of nuclear weapons (Rosenberg, 

1983) and cold war posturing for a nuclear war (e.g., 

Kissinger, 1957), President Eisenhower pursued peaceful alternatives to engage the Soviet Union in cooperative 

dialogues. He proposed Open Skies in 1955 (Eisenhower, 

1955), and when that strategy was unsuccessful, he promoted the Freedom of Space and the launch of scientific 

satellites during the IGY (National Security Council, 

1955a). Because priority in space had not been pursued 

at any cost, he preserved leverage to establish the peaceful 

use of regions beyond sovereign jurisdictions, “international space” as Secretary Quarles had presented to him in 

1957 (McDougall, 1985). 

During his watch, the 1958 Convention on the High 

Seas established the legal framework for the first international space “open to all nations, no State may validly 

purport to subject any part of them to its sovereignty.” 

President Eisenhower then invited allies and adversaries 

alike (including the Soviet Union) to negotiate the 1959 

Antarctic Treaty, which also was envisioned in relation 

to space law (National Security Council, 1958c): “If, by 

analogy to the Antarctic proposal of the United States, 

FIGURE 2. Emergence of global interdependence in our civilization 

during the twentieth century. Nearly 95% of the international ecosystem and environmental treaties and conventions that entered into 

force were signed after 1950. These frameworks for international 

cooperation are in stark contrast to the global conflicts represented 

by the two world wars during the first half of the twentieth century. Originating during the administration of President Eisenhower, 

international legal frameworks to establish international spaces beyond sovereign jurisdictions (arrows) were signed for the high seas 

and Antarctica in 1958 and 1959, respectively (Table 2). The 1959 

Antarctic Treaty was the first nuclear arms agreement and the precedent for the nonarmament regimes (denoted with an asterisk, *) that 

were subsequently signed for outer space and the deep sea in 1967 

and 1971, respectively (Table 2). Elaborated from Berkman (2002).
BERKMAN / EISENHOWER AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 2 5

international agreement can be reached in space and the 

rules and regulations to be followed with respect thereto, 

problems of sovereignty may be avoided or at least 

deferred.”

With its adoption, the Antarctic Treaty also reinforced 

the international status of the high seas (Antarctic Treaty, 

Article VI): “nothing in the present Treaty shall prejudice 

or in any way affect the rights, or the exercise of the rights, 

of any State under international law with regard to the 

high seas within that area.” Importantly, the peaceful-use 

and nonarmament provisions of the Antarctic Treaty as 

well as its firm foundation on common interests became 

the precedent for the outer-space and the deep-sea regimes, establishing those areas as international spaces as 

well (Berkman, 2009). 

More than accelerating the development of international legal frameworks to resolve environmental and 

ecosystem issues across national boundaries, President 

Eisenhower paved the way for humankind to establish international spaces across most of the Earth and in the cosmos (Table 2). With Antarctica as the centerpiece among 

the international spaces, he established strategies for balancing national interests and common interests for the 

lasting benefit of all. The vision President Eisenhower presented in his first inaugural address (Eisenhower, 1953a) 

remains a guiding light. With hope and inspiration, the 

signature day of the Antarctic Treaty, December 1st, deserves to be celebrated forever as “a day of freedom and 

of peace for all mankind.” In this spirit, ‘Antarctica Day’ 

was inaugurated on 1 December 2010 (Antarctic Treaty 

Summit Website Archive, 2010).

Acknowledgments

This article emerged from international planning for 

the Antarctic Treaty Summit: Science-Policy Interactions 

in International Governance (http://www.atsummit50.aq) 

that was convened at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., from 30 November to 3 December 2009. I 

especially thank my colleagues and friends on the International Board for the Antarctic Treaty Summit: Maj De 

Poorter, Edith Fanta, Marie Jacobsson, Yeadong Kim, Michael A. Lang, José Retamales, David W. H. Walton, Rüdiger Wolfrum, Oran R. Young, and Abdul Hamid Zakri. I 

also thank Susan Eisenhower and Ernest Fredrick Roots for 

their helpful comments on this manuscript. Support for this 

manuscript was generously provided by the Prince Albert II 

of Monaco Foundation, Tinker Foundation, and U.S.-UK 

Fulbright Commission. The paper is a contribution from 

the Arctic Ocean Geopolitics Programme of the Scott Polar 

Research Institute and Judge Business School at the University of Cambridge.

TABLE 2. Initial agreements to establish international spaces beyond sovereign jurisdictions in the high seas, Antarctica, outer space 

and the deep sea.

Signature location Nonarmament

Agreement name and date Entry into force Peaceful purposes region

Convention on the High Seas Geneva, 30 September 1962 Not Specified Not established

29 April 1958

Antarctic Treaty Washington, D.C., 23 June 1961 Matters of Yes

1 December 1959 common interest

Treaty on Principles Governing London, Moscow, 10 October 1967 Common interest Yes

the Activities of States in the Washington, D.C., of all mankind

Exploration and Use of Outer 27 January 1967

Space, Including the Moon and 

Other Celestial Bodies

Treaty on the Prohibition of London, Moscow, 18 May 1972 Common interest Yes

the Emplacement of Nuclear Washington, D.C., of mankind

Weapons and Other Weapons 11 February 1971

of Mass Destruction on the 

Seabed and the Ocean Floor 

and in the Subsoil
2 6 • science diplomac Y

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ABSTRACT. This paper will examine the evolution of the Antarctic Treaty from the perspective of governance, looking at the Antarctic Treaty as a mechanism for anticipating, 

identifying, and responding to new circumstances or activities requiring common action. 

It will inevitably touch upon both substance (what has been achieved under the Antarctic 

Treaty) and process (how it has been achieved). As such, it will address the story of the development of the Antarctic Treaty into what is now known as the Antarctic Treaty System.

THE TREATY

Negotiation of the Antarctic Treaty of 1959 may be viewed as an effort to 

provide for a system of governance for scientific research in the most remote and 

inhospitable region of the planet. In fact, its direct antecedent was the International Geophysical Year (IGY) of 1957–1958. The IGY confirmed the unique 

opportunities for scientific research of worldwide importance offered by Antarctica and the importance of international cooperation to take advantage of 

those opportunities.

The IGY grew out of proposals for a third international polar year, with a 

priority accorded to research in the Antarctic. Antarctica was the least studied 

region of the planet, and earlier polar years had concentrated on the Arctic. 

Rapid advances in technology and logistics, spurred in part by World War II, 

opened previously unavailable opportunities to pursue geophysical and other 

sciences in the extreme conditions of Antarctica. 

Twelve nations joined in the IGY’s cooperative program of research and associated logistics support activities in Antarctica: Argentina, Australia, Belgium, 

Chile, France, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the Soviet Union, 

the United Kingdom, and the United States. The IGY represented an unprecedented and extremely successful program of scientific collaboration. Groundbreaking research was carried out in a variety of disciplines, including geology, 

glaciology, geomagnetism, meteorology, and upper-atmosphere physics.

For IGY activities to go forward in Antarctica, its planners had to deal with 

the political realities of Antarctica in the mid-twentieth century, including, specifically, the potential for international conflict there. Such potential arose first from 

The Development of the Antarctic

Treaty System

Tucker Scully

R. Tucker Scully, 1517 P Street, N.W., Apt. #3, 

Washington, D.C. 20005, USA. Correspondence: leetucker@verizon.net.
3 0 • science diplomacy

disputes over territorial sovereignty in Antarctica and second from the ideological and military competition between 

the United States and its allies and the Soviet Union and its 

allies that emerged from World War II (the cold war).

The issue of territorial sovereignty, the legal status 

of Antarctica, did not become a major issue during the 

first century of human activities in and around the continent. In the twentieth century, however, seven countries 

asserted claims to territorial sovereignty to parts of Antarctica. These were Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, 

New Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom. Three 

of these claims overlap. Basically, Argentina, Chile, and 

the United Kingdom all claim the Antarctic Peninsula as 

their territory. Moreover, a significant part of Antarctica, 

Marie Byrd Land, was unclaimed. These seven countries 

participated in the IGY. Other nations, including the other 

five IGY participants (Belgium, Japan, South Africa, the 

Soviet Union (Russia), and the United States), neither asserted nor recognized claims to territorial sovereignty. 

The stationing of military forces in the Antarctic Peninsula during World War II to counter possible German 

use of the area as a base for naval operations created tensions between Argentina and the United Kingdom that 

continued to grow in the postwar decade, raising fears of 

actual conflict.

On the global level, the question of governance of 

Antarctica was raised in the United Nations, and a proposal was made for some type of UN trusteeship over the 

continent. That idea was rejected by claimant countries. 

Another idea that emerged was for an eight-nation condominium to oversee Antarctica, with the seven existing 

claimants plus the United States (which presumably was 

to claim Marie Byrd Land) as the overseers.

This latter idea drew a strong reaction from the Soviet 

Union. Citing both early Russian explorations and morerecent Soviet scientific activities, the Soviet Union warned 

that it would disregard any decisions on Antarctica in 

which it did not take part. The Soviet position raised the 

prospect of cold war competition and conflict being added 

to the disputes over territorial sovereignty. 

In the face of this political climate, the IGY planners, 

essentially, their national academies of science, opted for 

including the Soviet Union fully in the scientific programs 

and persuaded their governments to temporarily set aside 

their differences over territorial sovereignty. In return, 

IGY participants undertook to share in advance plans for 

all scientific investigations and to make fully available the 

results of such activities after their completion.

The informal arrangements worked out for the 

IGY were so successful, and the resulting research so 

productive, that the scientists pressed their governments 

to establish them on a continuing and binding basis. As 

a consequence, the United States took the initiative to 

convene a conference of the 12 IGY countries. Negotiations initiated in mid-1958 bore fruit with the signing of 

the Antarctic Treaty on 1 December 1959. It entered into 

force on 30 June 1961.

The Antarctic Treaty’s basic objectives center upon 

the freedom of scientific research and scientific cooperation in Antarctica and reserving Antarctica exclusively 

for peaceful purposes. These objectives are converted into 

binding obligations in the operative articles of the Antarctic Treaty.

The Antarctic Treaty applies to the area south of 

60°S latitude, including all ice shelves, but nothing in the 

Antarctic Treaty is to prejudice or in any way affect the 

rights, or the exercise of the rights by any state, under international law with regard to the high seas within that 

area (Article VI). Freedom of scientific investigation in 

Antarctica and cooperation therein as applied in the IGY 

shall continue (Article II). To promote such cooperation, 

the parties to the Antarctic Treaty agree to share information regarding plans for scientific programs in Antarctica 

in advance of the research activities, to exchange scientific personnel between expeditions and stations in Antarctica, and to ensure that the observations and results 

of scientific research in Antarctica are shared and made 

freely available (Article III.1). There is also provision for 

the establishment of cooperative working relations with 

those specialized agencies of the United Nations and other 

international organizations having a scientific or technical 

interest in Antarctica (Article III.2).

Antarctica shall be used for peaceful purposes only; 

military activities are prohibited, including the establishment of military bases and fortifications, military maneuvers, and the testing of weapons (Article I). Nuclear 

explosions and the disposal of radioactive waste in Antarctica are also prohibited (Article V).

In support of these basic obligations, the Antarctic 

Treaty provides for a system of on-site inspection (Article 

VII). Each party has the right to designate observers with 

free access to all areas of and to all stations and installations in Antarctica to ensure observance of the provisions 

of the Antarctic Treaty.

Articles I and V establish Antarctica as a nuclear-free 

zone of peace. An important objective of these provisions 

was to remove the threat of cold-war-generated conflict 

from Antarctica. The Soviet Union, as an important player 

in polar science, had participated in the IGY, but there was 

concern that its inclusion in the governance of Antarctica 
SCULLY / DEVELOPMENT OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM • 3 1

would bring cold war competition and conflict to the area. 

The zone of peace provisions respond to this concern. 

Perhaps even more importantly, achievement of the 

Antarctic Treaty’s substantive objectives required that it 

deal with the basic disagreement over the legal and political status of Antarctica: the issue of claims to territorial 

sovereignty. As mentioned, 7 of the 12 original parties to 

the Antarctic Treaty (Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, 

New Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom) assert 

claims to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica. Three of 

these claims overlap. The other five original parties to the 

Antarctic Treaty (Belgium, Japan, South Africa, the Soviet 

Union (Russia), and the United States) neither assert nor 

recognize claims to territorial sovereignty. Two of the five, 

the United States and the Soviet Union, although neither 

asserting claims nor recognizing the claims of others, maintained that their past activities in Antarctica gave them the 

basis for making claims in the future if circumstances dictated. The Antarctic Treaty addresses this disagreement in 

the juridical accommodation reflected in Article IV.

Nothing in the Antarctic Treaty is to be interpreted as 

a renunciation of previously asserted rights of or claims to 

territorial sovereignty in Antarctica and any basis of such 

claim or as prejudicing the position of any party regarding 

recognition or nonrecognition of claims. No activities taking place while the Antarctic Treaty is in force shall constitute a basis for asserting, supporting, or denying a claim to 

sovereignty in Antarctica or create any rights of sovereignty 

there. Further, no new claim or enlargement of an existing 

claim may be asserted while the Antarctic Treaty is in force.

Article IV is sometimes described, not surprisingly, as 

freezing the respective positions on territorial sovereignty. 

In the sense of preserving a balance in these positions I 

would agree.

Equally important, Article IV’s juridical accommodation, combined with the other substantive provisions of 

the Antarctic Treaty, allows its Parties to agree on how 

activities actually take place in Antarctica. The Antarctic 

Treaty applies what has been called a bifocal approach, 

which permits application of common sets of obligations 

to those activities with which the Antarctic Treaty deals 

and in a way that each side, claimant and nonclaimant 

alike, can view as consistent with its basic legal position.

This bifocal approach can be illustrated by the example 

of a scientist from the United States undertaking research 

in the area claimed by New Zealand. New Zealand would 

assert that in exercise of its sovereignty over this area, it 

has the exclusive right to authorize scientific research there 

and to determine conditions for its conduct. As a party to 

the Antarctic Treaty, however, New Zealand can take the 

position that it has given its consent for scientists of other 

Antarctic Treaty parties to carry out research in its claimed 

area provided that they observe the obligations applicable 

to such research set forth in the Antarctic Treaty. 

The United States, on the other hand, would disagree 

with New Zealand’s interpretation since, in the U.S.’s 

view, there is no territorial sovereignty in Antarctica. It 

would assert, therefore, that pursuant to its jurisdiction 

over its nationals wherever they are, it has the exclusive 

right to authorize research by U.S. scientists anywhere in 

Antarctica and determine conditions for their conduct. As 

a party to the Antarctic Treaty, however, the United States 

can take the position that it has exercised this exclusive 

jurisdiction in authorizing the research and requiring observation of the obligations on such research set forth in 

the Antarctic Treaty.

Each side, therefore, can assert that the research is 

taking place in a manner consistent with its legal position. 

In spite of the differences in their legal positions, however, 

each side agrees that the research go forward under commonly agreed conditions.

The bifocal approach is a basic element in Antarctic 

governance. It reflects a fundamental principle of restraint 

by all parties, in effect, recognition that the effort to determine which position is to prevail on the question of territorial sovereignty or jurisdiction in Antarctica is not only 

unnecessary but also undesirable. Removal of this imperative also removes a potentially potent source of conflict. 

The Antarctic Treaty includes a mechanism to develop 

specific measures to implement or further elaborate its substantive obligations. Article IX provides for regular meetings of the parties for the purpose of consulting together 

on matters of common interest concerning Antarctica and 

developing recommended measures in furtherance of the 

principles and objectives of the Antarctic Treaty (called 

Consultative Meetings).

In this regard, there are two other important elements 

in establishing the basis for achieving and building upon 

the Antarctic Treaty’s substantive obligations: the activities criterion and consensus decision making. Participation 

in the Consultative Meetings is open to the 12 original 

parties (all of whom had initiated scientific programs 

in Antarctica during the IGY) and to any other country 

that becomes party to the Antarctic Treaty during such 

time as that party demonstrates its interest in Antarctica 

by the conduct of substantial scientific research there. 

Decision-making competence, therefore, is linked to research activities in Antarctica. Those parties participating 

in Consultative Meetings with decision-making authority 

are known as Consultative Parties.
3 2 • science diplomacy

Measures recommended at Consultative Meetings become effective when approved by all Consultative Parties. 

Under the rules of procedures for Consultative Meetings, 

recommendations for such measures require approval of 

all representatives present. These rules have been applied, 

in practice, on a no-objection or consensus basis.

The Antarctic Treaty’s consensus-based decisionmaking system adds important political reinforcement to 

the juridical accommodation set forth in Article IV. Each 

party is provided the assurance that it cannot be outvoted 

on decisions that could affect the issues of sovereignty 

dealt with in Article IV.

The activities criterion, tying decision-making authority to actual activities in Antarctica, is an important 

stimulus for cooperation there. Decisions on activities in 

Antarctica are taken by those actually carrying them out: 

an incentive to base decisions on the common and shared 

experience of Antarctica and a deterrent to politicizing 

issues. This activities criterion tends to restrain possible 

abuse of the power to object in consensus decision making.

These legal and political provisions have been essential 

ingredients in the practical achievement of the objectives 

that lie at the heart of the Antarctic Treaty. Antarctica has 

been and remains an effective zone of peace and the scene 

of cutting-edge scientific research.

THE EVOLUTION OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY

The success of the Antarctic Treaty in securing Antarctica as an area free of conflict and the scientific understanding of the continent and surrounding waters 

promoted by the Antarctic Treaty have been preconditions 

for extending the experiment, i.e., for the evolution of the 

Antarctic Treaty as a system of governance. It is important 

to remember that the Antarctic Treaty was, at the outset, 

a limited-purpose agreement. It dealt with freedom of scientific investigation in Antarctica and establishing it as a 

zone of peace. The legal and political accommodations in 

the Antarctic Treaty applied to these obligations and activities related thereto but did not apply to activities not 

mentioned in the Antarctic Treaty, such as the exploitation 

of resources.

At the same time, the drafters of the Antarctic Treaty 

anticipated the need for its future evolution in providing 

for the regular Consultative Meetings to adopt recommendations in furtherance of the principles and purposes of the 

Antarctic Treaty (Article IX). This is also reflected in the 

provision for establishing cooperative working relationships with international organizations having a scientific 

or technical interest in Antarctica (Article III, paragraph 

2). Interest in Antarctica as a basis for interaction with 

other organizations, a variation on the activities criterion, 

has been an important theme in the evolution of the Antarctic Treaty.

In addressing the evolution of the Antarctic Treaty, 

the role played by the Scientific Committee on Antarctic 

Research (SCAR) should also be highlighted. A nongovernmental body and member of the International Council 

of Scientific Unions (now the International Council for 

Science), SCAR originated as a scientific mechanism for 

coordinating activities in Antarctica for the IGY. Following the IGY, it became a permanent body to provide a continuing means for coordinating and facilitating scientific 

research activities and for identifying scientific priorities 

in Antarctica.

Science has played a key role in the evolution of the 

Antarctic Treaty. The results of scientific research and 

observations in Antarctica have contributed importantly 

to the definition of issues that require intergovernmental 

agreement and are an important basis for evaluating the 

intergovernmental response to such issues once identified. 

SCAR has been central to this aspect of the Antarctic Treaty’s evolution by providing a valuable source of scientific 

advice and peer review for the Antarctic Treaty and from 

a nongovernmental perspective.

As a result of the work of Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings, a wide range of measures have been adopted 

to extend the principles and purposes of the Antarctic 

Treaty to human activities in Antarctica and to avoid adverse impacts of those activities. These include measures 

on the facilitation of scientific research and logistic support thereof; conservation of Antarctic fauna and flora 

and protection of the Antarctic environment; designation 

of protected areas, historical sites, and monuments; cooperation in meteorology, telecommunication, and emergency response; air safety; tourism; and the operation of 

the Antarctic Treaty itself.

A perhaps even more important impetus of the evolution of the Antarctic Treaty to what is known as the 

Antarctic Treaty System was the effort to deal with possible resource activities in Antarctica: first, Antarctic 

marine living resources and, second, Antarctic mineral 

resources.

ANTARCTIC MARINE LIVING RESOURCES

The preservation and conservation of living resources 

in Antarctica was cited in the Antarctic Treaty itself as 
SCULLY / DEVELOPMENT OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM • 3 3

a subject for measures to be adopted at Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meetings (Article IX, paragraph 9(f)). Recommendation I-VIII, adopted at the First Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meeting in 1961, recognized the urgent need 

to conserve and protect living resources in the area of the 

Antarctic Treaty. 

A first result was the Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora adopted in 1964. 

The agreed measures were aimed at ensuring that human 

activities in Antarctica, then primarily scientific research 

and associated logistics support activities, did not adversely affect Antarctic fauna and flora. They prohibited 

the taking of native species except for compelling scientific purposes and set forth far-reaching measures to avoid 

harmful interference with populations of such species and 

to protect their habitats. The reach of the measures was to 

the continent and its ice shelves, not to adjacent offshore 

waters.

The second major initiative to deal with marine living 

resources was a new agreement designed to deal with the 

possible reemergence of commercial exploitation of seals, 

in particular, crabeater seals. It was recognized that any 

effort to reinitiate commercial exploitation of seals would 

need to cover pack ice areas of the high seas. In light of the 

potentially differing interpretations of the application of a 

measure adopted under the Antarctic Treaty to the highseas areas (Article VI), the Consultative Parties, therefore, 

with significant scientific input from SCAR, set out to negotiate a freestanding agreement on pelagic sealing.

The resulting Convention on the Conservation for 

Antarctic Seals (CCAS), concluded in 1972, established 

sealing zones and precautionary catch limits in those 

zones; SCAR was designated as the scientific advisory 

body for the convention. Commercial-scale sealing, in 

fact, did not emerge. Nonetheless, CCAS represents one 

of the first, if not the first, international effort to put into 

place a mechanism to regulate commercial exploitation of 

living resources before the initiation of those activities. 

SCAR identified and synthesized data and information 

on the pack ice seal populations and provided the scientific 

framework for the precautionary approach to conservation included in CCAS. It also promoted and coordinated 

study and understanding of the Antarctic marine ecosystem as a whole. This work, brought together in SCAR’s 

Biological Investigations of Marine Antarctic Systems and 

Stocks (BIOMASS) Program in 1976, spotlighted the central role played by Antarctic krill (shrimplike crustaceans) 

in the Antarctic marine ecosystem. It also identified the 

potential of krill for human consumption as well as the 

potentially severe impacts of large-scale harvesting not 

only on krill populations themselves but also on the numerous other species dependent upon krill.

As a result of the pioneering research on the Antarctic marine ecosystem coordinated by SCAR, in 1977 the 

Consultative Parties agreed to initiate negotiation on an 

agreement to “provide for the effective conservation of 

the marine living resources of the Antarctic ecosystem as a 

whole” (Recommendation IX-2 [London, 1977]).

A special negotiating process was established, in part, 

because it was widely recognized that the form of the regime would need to be, like CCAS, a freestanding convention. This recognition also reflected commitment to cover 

the entire marine ecosystem, which extends north of the 

area of the Antarctic Treaty (north of 60°S latitude). The 

negotiations were initiated in 1978 and were concluded 

in 1980.

The Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic 

Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR), which entered 

into force in 1982, is a principal component of the system built upon the Antarctic Treaty and reflects the innovative and precedent-setting character of its parent. 

CCAMLR is the first international agreement that defines 

its area of application by reference to an ecosystem and 

seeks to describe the components and spatial extent of 

that ecosystem.

The northern limit of the CCAMLR area is defined 

by reference to the Antarctic Convergence, or Polar Front, 

an oceanic transition zone that separates colder Antarctic 

waters from subantarctic waters to the north. It forms an 

environmental barrier that many species do not cross and 

is considered the northern limit of many Antarctic species. 

CCAMLR sets forth geographic coordinates that approximate the location of this zone for regulatory purposes.

Antarctic marine living resources are defined as the 

populations of all species of living organisms found south 

of the convergence, and the Antarctic marine ecosystem is 

defined as the complex of relationships of Antarctic marine living resources with each other and with their physical environment.

CCAMLR is also the first international agreement to 

incorporate an ecosystem approach to the management 

of living resources. CCAMLR defines its objective as the 

conservation of Antarctic marine living resources, with 

conservation understood to include rational use of such 

resources.

The ecosystem approach is set forth in three obligations 

applicable to harvesting activities (Article II, paragraph 

3, of CCAMLR). All such activities are to be conducted 

so as to (1) maintain populations that are the target of 

harvesting at healthy levels (preventing their decrease to 
3 4 • science diplomacy

levels below those necessary to ensure stable recruitment), 

(2) maintain ecological relationships between harvested, 

dependent, and related populations of Antarctic marine 

living resources and restoration of depleted populations to 

meet the first standard, and (3) prevent irreversible change 

(not potentially reversible over two or three decades) in 

the Antarctic marine ecosystem as a whole. 

CCAMLR recognizes that the implementation of an 

ecosystem approach to conservation and management is 

data dependent. Therefore, CCAMLR includes extensive 

and detailed provisions on data collection and reporting, 

both as obligations of the parties and as priority functions 

of the institutions.

With respect to institutions, CCAMLR represented 

a significant evolution in the Antarctic Treaty system. 

It establishes a commission to determine management 

measures, a scientific committee to provide advice to the 

commission, and a secretariat to serve both. Substantive 

decisions in the commission are taken by consensus of its 

members, and membership is also based on an activities 

criterion, in this case, harvesting of or substantial research 

on Antarctic marine living resources.

CCAMLR draws directly upon the juridical accommodation reflected in Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty 

and applies it to assertions of maritime jurisdiction south 

of 60°S latitude derived from claims to territorial sovereignty there. The parties also set forth understandings to 

reflect the fact that there is recognized sovereignty and recognized maritime jurisdiction in the CCAMLR area north 

of 60°S latitude.

CCAMLR also incorporates imaginative provisions to 

deal with the divided competence between the European 

Union (EU) and its member states with respect to matters covered by CCAMLR. The EU and relevant member 

states are members of the commission, but with safeguards 

against double voting. 

CCAMLR’s provisions for a scientific committee 

merit attention. The members of the Scientific Committee, as with most regional fisheries bodies, represent 

governments rather than serving in an individual expert 

capacity. However, in addition to carrying out such activities as may be directed by the commission, the committee 

is accorded specific and independent functions to develop 

the basis for implementing CCAMLR’s ecosystem management approach. The committee’s relationship with 

SCAR, also provided for in CCAMLR, has operated to 

reinforce the independence of the committee. As noted 

earlier, SCAR, in effect, acts as a peer-review body of the 

committee’s work. The fact that many of the scientists 

representing governments are also active participants in 

SCAR has contributed to the objectivity of the committee’s deliberations.

An important challenge to the successful implementation of CCAMLR arose at the outset, in the start-up 

of the Scientific Committee. The committee was charged 

with recommending agreed rules of procedure for its operation to the commission for final approval. The issue 

turned on whether the consensus decision-making system 

provided in CCAMLR for the commission should also 

apply to the Scientific Committee. Several parties took the 

position that a consensus of all committee members was 

required for the provision of scientific advice or recommendations to the commission. This position could have 

prevented the commission from receiving any advice; it 

could have deprived the commission of the understanding of where and why scientific views diverged, and it 

would have involved the Scientific Committee in political 

decisions, properly the purview of the commission. The 

majority of members expressed fundamental objection to 

this position. The resulting impasse prevented the adoption of rules for over a year. Those opposed to subjecting 

the Scientific Committee’s advice to consensus decision 

making held firm, however, and prevailed at the committee’s second meeting. The relevant rule (Rule 3, Rules 

of Procedure of the Scientific Committee) provides the 

following:

•	 Scientific recommendations and advice to be provided 

by the Scientific Committee pursuant to the Convention shall normally be determined by consensus. 

•	 Where consensus cannot be achieved the Committee 

shall set out in its report all views advanced on the 

matter under consideration.

•	 Reports of the Scientific Committee to the Commission shall reflect all the views expressed at the Committee on the matters discussed.

•	 If a Member or group of Members in the Committee 

so wishes, additional views of that Member or group 

of Members on any particular questions may be submitted directly to the Commission.

•	 Where the Committee takes decisions, it will do so in 

accordance with Article XII of the Convention.

Resolution of the dispute in this fashion was critical 

to establishing a healthy interaction between the scientific 

and technical requirements for management and the political process for taking management decisions. Getting the 

science-policy interaction right is necessary to ensure that 

risk and uncertainty are given proper weight in management decisions; CCAMLR’s ability to do so has been a key 
SCULLY / DEVELOPMENT OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM • 3 5

element in the success it has had in the ongoing attempt to 

put ecosystem management into practice.

Although it is beyond the scope of this paper to analyze the operation of CCAMLR, since its entry into force in 

1982, it should be noted that CCAMLR’s Commission has 

been at the international forefront of the complex task of 

converting ecosystem management into practical measures, 

in precautionary, risk-based management of fisheries; in 

establishing healthy science-policy interaction; in dealing 

with harmful fisheries practices, in particular, seabird bycatch; and in coming to grips with illegal, unreported, and 

unregulated (IUU) fishing, through such measures as its innovative catch documentation scheme.

ANTARCTIC MINERAL RESOURCES

Following the completion of the negotiation of 

CCAMLR in 1980, the Consultative Parties turned their 

attention to the issue of Antarctic mineral resources, an 

issue that had emerged in the mid-1970s to threaten the 

Antarctic Treaty’s experiment in international governance.

This challenge derived from inferences that there were 

valuable mineral resources in Antarctica and was driven 

by worldwide concern over possible resource scarcity, in 

particular, fears of oil shortages following the formation 

of the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries 

(OPEC). Governments and resource companies, therefore, 

sought to determine the resource potential of previously 

uninvestigated regions, including the most remote areas of 

the planet, such as Antarctica.

The search for valuable resources in Antarctica was 

certainly not a new phenomenon. The appetite for new 

sealing and whaling grounds was an important element in 

the exploration of Antarctica from the outset. The pattern 

of harvesting followed by overharvesting of marine mammal populations became an all-too-familiar feature in the 

history of Antarctica.

Dealing with possible exploitation of mineral resources, however, was viewed as more difficult than managing living resources. They are not renewable and were 

perceived as more valuable. Moreover, the authority to 

manage and profit from mineral resource development is 

one of the most jealously guarded aspects of sovereignty. 

Here again, it should be recalled that the Antarctic Treaty 

is a limited-purpose agreement and its imaginative governance provisions did not extend to possible mineral resource activities. 

Under these circumstances, the Treaty Parties decided 

that it was necessary to have a mechanism in place for 

determining the acceptability of mineral resource development in Antarctica before, rather than after, any valuable 

deposits were identified. Research on basic geological and 

geophysical processes in Antarctica was inexorably expanding information about the possible occurrence of mineral 

resources. Reaching agreement on what to do after any such 

deposits had been identified could have proved impossible.

Therefore, in 1981, the Consultative Parties agreed to 

negotiate a regime to deal with possible oil development 

and mining in Antarctica. As with the case of CCAMLR, 

their objective was to conclude a freestanding agreement, 

separate from, but closely tied to, the Antarctic Treaty, and 

they established a special negotiating process to that end. 

The resulting negotiations were extraordinarily complex and difficult, as well as fascinating for those like 

myself who took part in them. They were initiated at a 

time of deep division, east/west and north/south, over international economic and resource distribution issues that 

focused international attention on Antarctica. They also 

became the catalyst for concerted environmental campaigns within many of the Consultative Parties opposing 

any possible Antarctic mineral resource activities. Environmental groups called for designating Antarctica as a 

world park in which mineral resource development and 

perhaps other commercial activities would be prohibited.

The growing power of this environmental movement 

was obscured by the progress being made in the negotiations, and in 1988, after seven years of intense bargaining, the Consultative Parties adopted the Convention on 

the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities 

(CRAMRA). Its adoption by consensus was a remarkable 

negotiating achievement. 

This consensus, however, was short-lived. Shortly 

after adoption of CRAMRA, Australia and France announced that they would no longer support it and would 

work instead for a permanent prohibition of mineral resource activities in Antarctica. It became clear that the ratifications necessary to bring CRAMRA into force would 

not be forthcoming.

CRAMRA, though it has been shelved, included environmental standards, including unique sufficiency of information criteria as a precondition for making decisions, 

arguably the most stringent standards ever developed 

for possible resource activities. Many of its provisions 

have served as precedents for subsequent environmental 

agreements.

The problem with CRAMRA, however, was that it 

could be seen to allow the possibility of mineral development. Even the term “regulation” in its title was taken to 

imply that mineral resource exploitation would inevitably 
3 6 • science diplomacy

flow from CRAMRA, a reality by no means foreordained 

in its substantive provisions. Nonetheless, this possibility, 

however remote, became the catalyst for an effective public 

campaign against CRAMRA. Environmental organizations 

concerned with Antarctica recognized the extraordinary 

emotive value and popular appeal of declaring Antarctica 

forever off-limits to mineral resource development. The 

force of this movement proved to be irresistible.

The demise of CRAMRA converted what had been a 

challenge to the Antarctic Treaty’s system of governance 

into a potential crisis. Some observers characterized it as a 

significant failure of the Antarctic Treaty system and questioned the viability of the treaty as a mechanism for dealing with environmental protection. There certainly was 

deep division among the Consultative Parties. The division 

was not just over a ban on mineral activities. 

The Consultative Parties that first advocated a permanent ban on mineral resource activities called for a new 

comprehensive agreement on the protection of the Antarctic environment. This comprehensive convention not only 

would prohibit mineral resource activities that were not 

covered by the Antarctic Treaty but would also apply to 

activities directly regulated by the Antarctic Treaty, e.g., 

facilitation of science and associated logistics in support 

of science, tourism, and other visitation. There were also 

proposals to substitute a qualified majority system for 

consensus decision-making procedures. The effect of these 

proposals was to call into question the Antarctic Treaty as 

the framework for governance.

Under these circumstances, the Consultative Parties 

returned to the negotiating table. The crisis was overcome 

through agreement on the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, sometimes called the Madrid Protocol, which was concluded in 1991 and entered 

into force in 1998.

The Madrid Protocol, which forms an integral part 

of the Antarctic Treaty itself, incorporates a prohibition 

on mineral resource activities in Antarctica along with 

provisions strengthening and rationalizing the Antarctic 

Treaty’s framework for environmental protection.

Specifically, the Madrid Protocol, in addition to including the minerals ban (Article 7), elaborates environmental 

principles applicable to human activities in Antarctica and 

sets out mandatory rules in a series of annexes. These include the following:

•	 Annex I on Environmental Impact Assessment, which 

requires that the environmental impact of proposed activities in Antarctica be assessed before they take place;

•	 Annex II on the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna 

and Flora, which prohibits taking of taking of native 

animals and plants without a permit (available only 

for compelling scientific purposes); prohibits harmful 

interference with native populations; prohibits introduction of nonnative species; and basically strengthens 

and extends the Agreed Measures of 1964;

•	 Annex III on Waste Disposal and Waste Management, 

which provides for strict regulation of waste disposal 

and waste management at stations and field camps, including the requirement that most types of waste must 

be removed from Antarctica, a ban on open burning 

of waste, and prohibition of the introduction of polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), polystyrene packaging, 

pesticides, or nonsterile soil into Antarctica;

•	 Annex IV on Prevention of Marine Pollution, which 

prohibits disposal into the sea of oil, chemicals, including plastics, and garbage (other than food waste) 

from ships and stations; sets forth restrictions on disposal of sewage and food waste; and calls for prompt 

and effective response to accidents and environmental 

emergencies; and

•	 Annex V on Protected Areas, which provides for establishment of Antarctic Specially Protected Areas 

(ASPA), areas of outstanding wilderness, scientific, 

and environmental value that require a management 

plan and permit for entry (available only for compelling scientific purposes), and of Antarctic Specially 

Managed Areas (ASMA), areas where human activities need to be coordinated, requiring management 

plans but not permits for entry. 

The Madrid Protocol provides for additional annexes 

to be negotiated and incorporated into this framework 

in the future. Annex VI on Liability from Environmental 

Emergencies has been concluded but has not yet entered 

into force. The Madrid Protocol also includes provisions 

for compulsory settlement of disputes regarding interpretation or application of its provisions, matters relating to 

Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty excepted. 

The conclusion of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, which, as previously noted, 

forms an integral part of the Antarctic Treaty, represented 

the restoration of consensus among the Consultative Parties on the issue of mineral resources and environmental 

protection in Antarctica. As with CCAMLR, the Madrid 

Protocol represents a major expansion in the Antarctic 

Treaty System by extending the Antarctic Treaty’s system 

of governance.
SCULLY / DEVELOPMENT OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM • 3 7

Moreover, the negotiations over the 10-year period 

leading up to the Madrid Protocol were a catalyst to the 

elaboration of the techniques of Antarctic governance. 

That decade witnessed major changes in the participation 

and operation of the Antarctic Treaty System, what has 

been called the “greening” of the system. The intense interest generated by the issue of Antarctic mineral resources 

played an important part in the emergence of new actors 

seeking to play a role in Antarctic matters.

In 1959, the 12 countries that had negotiated the Antarctic Treaty were, in effect, responsible for the governance 

of Antarctica. Those 12—the Consultative Parties and 

only those parties—participated in the Consultative Meetings held under the Antarctic Treaty. During the first two 

decades of the operation of the Antarctic Treaty, only one 

acceding party to the Antarctic Treaty, Poland, had sought 

and achieved recognition as a Consultative Party (in 1977).

This situation changed dramatically with the emergence of the issue of potential development of mineral 

resources in Antarctica. By the conclusion of the Madrid 

Protocol in 1991, the number of Consultative Parties had 

doubled to 26. Among the new Consultative Parties were 

a number of developing countries, including Brazil, India, 

and China. There are now 28 Consultative Parties.

The negotiations also gave impetus to efforts by acceding parties to the Antarctic Treaty (those parties that 

had not achieved consultative status, or Non-Consultative 

Parties) to secure involvement in the work of Consultative 

Meetings, calls for opening Consultative Meetings to observers, and efforts in the United Nations by countries not 

party to the Antarctic Treaty, led by Malaysia, to challenge 

the legitimacy of the Antarctic Treaty. The Consultative 

Parties successfully responded to each of these challenges 

in a manner that extended and strengthened the Antarctic 

Treaty’s system of governance.

First, in 1983, agreement was reached that NonConsultative Parties had the right to participate in Consultative Meetings as observers with the ability to take 

part in discussions without decision-making powers. This 

agreement put an end to the anomalous situation in which 

parties to the Antarctic Treaty who had accepted their 

obligations but had not, or had not yet, met the activities criterion for consultative status had been unable even 

to attend Consultative Meetings. There are now 19 NonConsultative Parties to the Antarctic Treaty. 

Second, in 1987, agreement was reached on providing 

for attendance at Consultative Meetings by international 

organizations, both intergovernmental and nongovernmental. Representatives of components of the Antarctic 

Treaty System (SCAR, the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, and the Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs) are 

entitled to attend as observers. In addition, experts may 

be invited from international organizations that may contribute to the work of Consultative Meetings, based on 

the provisions for establishing cooperative working relations with international organizations set forth in Article 

III, paragraph 2. At the most recent Consultative Meeting 

(ATCM XXXII, held in the United States in 2009) observers and experts from 14 international organizations (intergovernmental and nongovernmental) attended.

Finally, the Consultative Parties coordinated a unified response to the campaign in the United Nations that 

questioned the legitimacy of the Antarctic Treaty system 

as a forum for dealing with mineral resources or other issues of concern to the international community. In reply 

to contentions that the Antarctic Treaty was a closed club 

based on an undemocratic decision-making system, the 

Consultative Parties took the position that issues relating 

to Antarctica were appropriately dealt with only by consensus, whether within the Antarctic Treaty’s mechanisms 

or in the United Nations General Assembly.

Consensus could not be achieved at the assembly, and 

those questioning the legitimacy of the Antarctic Treaty 

sought the adoption of General Assembly resolutions by 

majority vote. The Consultative Parties responded by not 

participating in such votes. Faced with a united front of 

Consultative Parties and with ongoing growth and diversification in the make up of the Consultative Parties themselves, the United Nations debates took on an increasingly 

hollow character. Finally, in 1994, consensus was achieved 

(following the conclusion of the Environmental Protocol 

and set forth in preliminary fashion in the agenda of the 

1992 Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro). This consensus 

involved international recognition of the legitimacy and 

value of the Antarctic Treaty System as a system of governance coupled with emphasis on the fulfillment of the 

obligations of Antarctic Treaty Parties to provide information about the operation of the Antarctic Treaty and the 

scientific research it promotes.

ANTARCTIC GOVERNANCE AFTER 50 YEARS

The entry into force of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty in 1998 and its implementation in the decade that followed, including the 

related establishment of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, 
3 8 • science diplomacy

mark the evolution of the Antarctic Treaty from a limitedpurpose, albeit unique and precedent setting, agreement 

into an overall system of governance. Among international instruments, the Antarctic Treaty has been uniquely 

successful in achieving its objectives. It has done so during 

five decades of rapid and significant change, not only in the 

international landscape but also in the numbers and interests of those participating in the Antarctic Treaty itself. Its 

innovative and precedent-setting conflict resolution and 

disarmament provisions and its guarantees of freedom of 

scientific research remain relevant and vital today. These 

achievements constitute the most important results of 50 

years of operation of the Antarctic Treaty and make it one 

of the most successful efforts at conflict prevention and 

political cooperation in modern history.

This same dynamism has been reflected in the evolution 

of the Antarctic Treaty System, in particular, CCAMLR. 

The provisions, practices, and conservation measures of 

CCAMLR continue to be widely emulated worldwide as 

a model and inspiration for efforts to conserve fishery and 

other living resources.

The governance elements that derive from the Antarctic Treaty itself, in particular, the bifocal approach reflected in Article IV, consensus-based decision making, and 

the activities criterion, provide essential bases for Antarctic problem solving, whether under the Antarctic Treaty 

or in subsequent instruments built upon the Antarctic 

Treaty. I would also add to the suite of techniques that 

characterize Antarctic governance the ecosystem management approach of CCAMLR as well as the precautionary, risk-based management techniques and the process of 

science-policy interactions that have evolved under it. A 

final element is reliance on the results of scientific research 

and observations in Antarctica as a basis for Consultative 

Party action and for evaluating the effectiveness of such 

action once implemented.
ABSTRACT. The Antarctic Treaty System (ATS), founded upon the Antarctic Treaty of 

1959, has proved to be one of the successes of twentieth century international law and diplomacy. Over the last 50 years, the Antarctic Treaty has preserved the Antarctic continent 

as a zone of peace and cooperative scientific research and provided an effective model for 

the management of regions beyond the limits of national jurisdiction according to common values. The reasons for this success are, however, by no means obvious to the casual 

observer. The language of the treaty itself and of the related conventions on seals, marine 

living resources, and minerals and the Protocol on Environmental Protection is deliberately ambiguous and vague. The regime has weak inspection, enforcement, and governance 

mechanisms and has been slow to respond to conflict in the Southern Ocean over whaling and unregulated fishing. A key to understanding both the successes and limitations of 

the ATS lies in the differing juridical positions of the member states on sovereign claims 

to Antarctic territory. Every ATS agreement, measure, and decision and state practices in 

respect to Antarctica should be viewed through the prism of these national perspectives on 

sovereignty. This paper sets out the evolution of the ATS and explores the fundamental role 

of Article IV and “sovereign neutrality” as the glue that binds the Antarctic Treaty and its 

interlinked measures, decisions, and agreements. Article IV has enabled the Consultative 

Parties to sidestep potential conflicts over territorial claims and to manage activities in 

Antarctica in the wider interests of the international community. For the second decade 

of the twenty-first century, the vital question is whether the ATS is capable of responding 

effectively to the challenges posed by illegal fishing and whaling, climate change, commercial tourism, energy, and human security. The litigation in the Japanese Whaling case, 

brought by the Humane Society International in the Australian Federal Court, provides 

a salutary warning of the risks to the ATS of unilateral assertions of national jurisdiction 

over activities in the Antarctic region. The Consultative Parties are now on notice to justify 

the legitimacy of their mandate and to demonstrate the capacity of the ATS to respond to 

contemporary Antarctic issues. The 50-year historical evolution of the ATS and its demonstrated capacity for dynamic growth suggest that the regime and its members have the 

flexibility and political will to maintain its success in the future.

INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) of interlinked conventions, measures, 

and recommendations, founded upon the Antarctic Treaty of 1959, has proved 

The Antarctic Treaty System: A Model of 

Legal Creativity and Cooperation

Gillian Triggs

Gillian Triggs, Sydney Law School, University 

of Sydney, Sydney, NSW, 2006, Australia. Correspondence: g.triggs@usyd.edu.au.
4 0 • science diplomacy

to be one of the successes of contemporary international 

law and diplomacy. For the last 50 years a tenth of the 

Earth has been regulated peacefully and in the interest of 

scientific research. Negotiated during the cold war, the 

treaty has ensured that potential conflict over the seven 

largely unrecognised and disputed claims to territorial 

sovereignty in Antarctica has been avoided. Indeed, as 

Phillip C. Jessup argued before the U.S. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, the importance of the Antarctic 

Treaty “lies . . . in the fact that it will permit the last great 

empty continent from becoming an international bone of 

contention, a scene of controversy and actual fighting.”1

The ATS has achieved this and much more. It has become a model for regional environmental management 

founded upon agreed common values of cooperative scientific research and peaceful purposes. It was negotiated 

by 12 states, 7 of which claimed rights as territorial sovereigns, at a time when there were as few as 55 states in the 

international community as a whole. Today, it might be 

questioned whether the 192 states that are now members 

of the United Nations (UN) are in any way bound by such 

a grandiose gesture that purported, over 50 years ago, to 

regulate activities on the largest continent on earth. The 

life of the law lies, of course, in experience. In fact, the 

Antarctic Treaty has withstood the tests of time and political, technological, and economic change. It now has 46 

members, representing a significant majority of the world’s 

population. The resilience of the treaty was, for example, 

demonstrated recently when, despite global concerns for 

energy security, the 28 Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties (ATCPs) confirmed their commitment to a prohibition 

on mineral resource exploitation.2

The 14 articles of the Antarctic Treaty, by today’s 

standards a model of elegant, concise simplicity, have ensured that the world’s largest, coldest, driest, and most 

inhospitable continent has been preserved for scientific 

research and peaceful purposes as a nonnuclear region. 

An understanding of the contribution of Antarctica to the 

global climate system is now recognised as vital, and the 

culture of free exchange of scientific data has, for example, 

facilitated unprecedented cooperation in understanding 

the causes of the ozone hole and the melting of glaciers. 

Laurence Gould has claimed that the Antarctic Treaty 

is “unique in history which may take its place alongside 

the Magna Carta and other great symbols of man’s quest 

for enlightenment and order.”3 Such hyperbole on the fiftieth anniversary of the signing of the treaty prompts reflection upon the reasons for its success as a regime for 

governance under international law. This chapter considers the evolution of the ATS and explores the fundamental 

role of Article IV and sovereign neutrality as the glue that 

binds the regime together by sidestepping potential conflicts over territorial claims, enabling Consultative Parties 

to manage activities in Antarctica in the wider interests 

of the international community. Also considered is a vital 

question for the twenty-first century: is the ATS capable 

of responding effectively to the challenges posed by unregulated fishing and whaling, climate change, commercial tourism, energy, and human security? The litigation 

in the Japanese Whaling case, brought by the Humane 

Society International in the Australian Federal Court, is 

examined as a salutary warning of the risks to the ATS of 

unilateral assertions of national jurisdiction over activities 

in the Antarctic region. The Consultative Parties are now 

on notice to justify the legitimacy of their mandate and to 

demonstrate the capacity of the ATS to respond to contemporary Antarctic issues.

HISTORY

To those who are new to it, the Antarctic Treaty System may seem to be an unnecessarily ambiguous, contrived, and suboptimal regime. A moment’s reflection on 

the history of the evolution of the regime explains its current structure, procedures, and limitations. The historical background also illumines the dynamic, evolutionary 

nature of a legal regime that has responded to diverse 

political, economic, and resource priorities over the last 

50 years. The treaty was negotiated during the cold war, 

completed shortly after Castro took over Havana, and has 

survived efforts to open it up for mineral exploitation. 

Antarctica was on the agenda of the UN General Assembly for over 30 years, but as an indication of the stability 

of the ATS, the “Question of Antarctica” was removed 

from the agenda in 2006.4 There have also been calls for 

Antarctica to be declared a “world park” and to be adopted as the “common heritage of mankind.”5

 Along the 

way, the evolving ATS has told us much about effective 

international governance in the face of apparently insurmountable legal obstacles. We have also come to understand how international law and diplomatic language can 

play a creative role in global problem solving.

The early twentieth century negotiating history for 

an Antarctic regime reflects the predominant concern of 

claimant states, and states conducting scientific research 

activities there, to protect their interests. Claims to territorial sovereignty over sectors in Antarctica have been 

made by the United Kingdom (1908), Chile (1940), France 

(1924), Norway (1939), and Argentina (1927–1957) on 
TRIGGS / LEGAL CREATIVITY AND COOPERATION • 4 1

the traditional legal grounds of discovery, effective occupation, and geographical proximity.6

 The claims by New 

Zealand and Australia are founded in the transfer of claimant status by the United Kingdom in 1923 and 1933, respectively, and have since been maintained on the grounds 

of occupation and exploration. Of these claimants, only 

five, Australia, New Zealand, Norway, France, and the 

United Kingdom, mutually recognise the claims of the 

others. Overwhelmingly, the international community has 

either objected to the claims on the grounds, among others, 

that Antarctica is not amendable to territorial sovereignty 

or ignored them. Although the United States and the Soviet Union had made the most extensive commitment of 

resources to Antarctic research and exploration by the 

1940s, neither had made a claim to sovereignty. Rather, 

each reserved the right to do so in the future.7

 Other states, 

such as Belgium, Japan, and South Africa, had historical 

and research interests in Antarctica and sought to ensure a 

role in determining the future governance of the region. Although India, Brazil, Uruguay, and Peru had also expressed 

their interests in Antarctic affairs, they were ultimately not 

included in negotiations for an agreement.8

The potential for conflict in the wider area of the 

Southern Ocean was already apparent by the 1940s, 

when the United Kingdom and the United States established bases on Stonington Island. Quite apart from the 

profound legal perspectives that separated the negotiating 

states, the late 1950s were politically unstable times. This 

period was one of intense anxiety during the cold war, and 

1959 was the year Castro invaded Cuba. A legal solution 

was not likely to be achieved. In 1955, the United Kingdom unsuccessfully attempted to have the question of the 

validity of Antarctic claims made by Argentina and Chile 

adjudicated by the International Court of Justice.9

In the summers of 1946/1947 and 1947/1948, Argentine and Chile sent naval expeditions to the Falkland 

Islands Dependencies to assert their historic claims to the 

area.10 Indeed, the press wrote of the “scramble for Antarctica” as early as 1947, and the United Kingdom, Chile, 

and Argentina adopted the policy of barring naval demonstrations and manoeuvres below the 60th parallel to 

reduce rising temperatures in the “South American Quadrant.”11 It had become clear both that some form of joint 

administration of the subantarctic area was needed and 

that any agreement should preserve the diversity of legal 

perspectives of the states with interests in the Antarctic 

and Southern Ocean. 

The first national proposal to consider some form of 

international regulation of Antarctica was made by Norway in 1934.12 The planned conference was then cancelled 

because of the impending threat of war. Subsequently, 

further proposals for internationalisation, including a 

UN trusteeship under Chapter XII of the UN Charter or 

a condominium, were made by the United States, the Soviet Union, Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, 

and India, respectively. The first glimmerings of the precepts upon which the ATS came to be founded were proposed in 1939 by Julio Escudero, an international lawyer 

from Chile, who argued that any international agreement 

should not prejudice sovereign rights in Antarctica, that 

territorial claims should be “frozen” through a moratorium, and that scientific cooperation should be ensured.13

He addressed the sovereignty issue by arguing that any 

agreement should provide that activities south of 60°S latitude should not prejudice sovereign rights in Antarctica. 

With the end of the Second World War came renewed 

attempts to seek a solution to the problem of Antarctic 

governance. Although the driving force for negotiation 

of an agreement lay in protection of national interests, 

science was well recognised by leaders such as President 

Eisenhower as a “tool of diplomacy” during this period. 

In addition to support among the scientific community 

for free access to Antarctica, the wider “internationalist” 

objectives of nongovernmental organizations, diplomats, 

and private citizens should not be forgotten. In December 1947, for example, three petitions were made by the 

Woman’s International League for Peace and Freedom 

urging the creation of a UN committee to take control of 

both the Arctic and Antarctic, an idea that was rejected, as 

the UN had no competence in polar regions. 

In 1948, the United States proposed that some form of 

internationalisation should be considered and emphasised 

the importance of scientific research in Antarctica. Chile 

responded that any attempt to unite all claims through 

internationalisation would be antithetical to its ‘full and 

absolute sovereignty’.14 Australia, Argentina, and Chile remained implacable in defending their sovereignty claims. 

In contrast, New Zealand was, at this time, willing to 

consider the establishment of Antarctica as a world territory under the auspices of the UN. In February 1956 and 

again in 1957, India proposed that the question of Antarctica should be considered by the General Assembly.15 The 

U.S. proposal had the cathartic effect of prompting the 

Soviet Union to consider its interests. In February 1949, 

the Geographical Society of the USSR resolved that the 

Soviet Union had “irrefutable rights . . . to participate in a 

solution of problems of the Antarctic” and that the Soviet 

Union had priority in discovering the continent. In 1957, 

the United Kingdom, Australia, and New Zealand proposed renewed consideration of an agreement to create an 
4 2 • science diplomacy

international consortium to ensure free access to scientific 

research and nonmilitarisation of Antarctica, a proposal 

that was rejected by Chile and Argentina on sovereignty 

grounds. France also remained steadfast in its objection to 

the creation of an international regime and joined Chile, 

Argentina, and Australia in rejecting any form of permanent secretariat or organisational structure. The juridical 

battle lines were thus drawn.

These tentative initiatives for Antarctic governance 

were shortly to be overtaken by preparations for the International Geophysical Year (IGY) from 1 July 1957 to 31 

December 1958. Antarctic scientific research was a major 

focus of the IGY, and the Special Committee for Antarctic Research (SCAR) was set up under the International 

Council for Scientific Unions. Although the IGY provided 

an opportunity for the Soviet Union and the United States 

to cooperate on scientific research in Antarctica, the politics of the cold war intruded as the bases established in the 

name of science on the continent might, it was feared, be 

used subsequently to undermine sovereignty claims. The 

Australians most particularly understood the point that 

Soviet bases established during the IGY within the Australian Antarctic Territory (AAT) were not likely to be dismantled. It is possible that recognition of the permanence 

of these bases encouraged Australia to view some form 

of wider governance as the better means of protecting its 

interests.16 With some prescience, Argentina and Chile had 

earlier insisted at the 1955 IGY Conference in Paris that 

scientific research should “not modify the existing status 

in the Antarctic regarding the relations of the participating 

countries.” Their insistence on maintaining the status quo 

appears to have subsequently formed the basis of a “gentlemen’s agreement” by which participating governments 

agreed not to “engage in legal or political argumentation” 

over Antarctic sovereignty during the IGY.17

Although it is doubtful that such an understanding 

had any legal validity, the idea of putting aside differing 

juridical views on sovereignty fell on fertile ground. The 

United States took the initiative in 1958 to adopt a strategy of “quiet, confidential and informal” discussions with 

interested states.18 The United States suggested adopting 

the earlier Chilean modus vivendi, which would maintain 

the status quo with respect to sovereignty and ensure nonmilitarisation and scientific cooperation. In May 1958, 

with the close of the IGY, the United States invited 11 

states with a “direct interest” in Antarctica to attend a 

conference in Washington, D.C., in October 1959. These 

states were the seven territorial claimants, states which 

reserved the right to make a claim in the future (United 

States and Soviet Union), and those with research activities 

in Antarctica during the IGY (South Africa, Belgium, and 

Japan). The mooted inclusion of Brazil, Poland, and India 

proved too problematic, and they were not invited. Somewhat surprisingly, and with caveats, each invited state 

agreed to take part in the negotiations. An informal preparatory working group was established to produce a draft 

agreement adopting the core principles that the status quo 

with respect to sovereignty claims would be maintained 

and that nonmilitarisation of Antarctica and scientific cooperation would be guaranteed. 

By today’s standards, the negotiations were breathtakingly fast. The conference met over six weeks (15 October to 1 December 1959), and the Antarctic Treaty 

was adopted on 1 December 1959, coming into force 18 

months later on 23 June 1961. As Hanessian points out, 

apart from the 1958 Law of the Sea Conventions and the 

creation of the International Atomic Energy Agency, the 

Antarctic Treaty was to be the only important treaty to 

include all the major powers of the time since the Second 

World War.19

This then was all the more reason to marvel that the 

leaders of delegations at the negotiating table were so generous in their commitment to the core principles of the 

proposed treaty. Sir Esler Dening, the UK representative, 

in particular, appreciated the responsibility that lay with 

the 12 negotiating states. When explaining to third states 

that “might question the right of any single group of countries even to give the appearance of legislating on a matter 

of world-wide concern,” he argued that the “Treaty is, in 

fact, to be almost entirely a self-denying ordinance on the 

part of the signatories, who will derive from it virtually no 

privileges but only obligations.”20

Such a high-minded sentiment, although optimistic 

at the time, has resonance today. Viewed 50 years later, 

survival of the ATS may well depend upon the success of 

the “self-denying” vision of Treaty Parties in meeting contemporary needs for Antarctic environmental governance.

The Antarctic Treaty is disarmingly simple. It applies 

to the area south of 60°S latitude, including ice shelves, 

but does not affect the rights of states under international 

law in respect of the high seas. Only the most minimal 

institutional structure is permitted in order to achieve 

the primary objectives that “Antarctica shall be used for 

peaceful purposes only,” that any measures of a military 

nature and nuclear explosions or disposal of radioactive 

waste are prohibited, and that there should be freedom of 

scientific investigation. The treaty requires the Contracting Parties to exchange information and scientific personnel and establishes a process for inspections by observers. 

A slender process for Antarctic governance is created by 
TRIGGS / LEGAL CREATIVITY AND COOPERATION • 4 3

the agreement that Contracting Parties can meet as determined by them. Those states that were listed in the preamble to the treaty are entitled to attend meetings, along 

with acceding states who meet the criterion that they can 

demonstrate their interest in Antarctica by conducting 

“substantial scientific research” there. These states have 

become known as the Consultative Parties, as distinct 

from those acceding states that are not able to demonstrate the appropriate level of research activity. The vital 

point of difference is that only the Consultative Parties 

are entitled to vote at, or attend, meetings. In contrast, 

the Non-Consultative Parties are invited to such meetings. 

Consultative Party Meetings are now held every year for 

two weeks to discuss matters of common interest and for 

representatives to make recommendations to their governments. Formal “measures” can also be adopted by the 

Consultative Parties on issues such as the preservation and 

conservation of natural resources and jurisdiction. It is 

a weakness of the treaty that measures will only become 

binding when all Consultative Parties have subsequently 

approved them by consensus. The requirement of unanimity reflects the differing juridical positions on sovereignty 

but has a limiting effect on effective governance.

This brief survey of the Antarctic Treaty has thus far 

failed to mention two of the most important and controversial provisions. The first concerns the means by which 

the treaty was to protect all possible juridical perspectives 

on Antarctica. The second is the constraint imposed by the 

treaty on the excise of jurisdiction by contracting states 

over nonnationals.

SOVEREIGN NEUTRALITY

The idea of sovereign neutrality has been the vital 

building block for the development of the Antarctic Treaty 

System. Indeed, all aspects of Antarctic governance need 

to be viewed through the prism of differing juridical perspectives on sovereignty. Article IV provides that

Nothing in the present Treaty shall be interpreted as:

A renunciation by any contracting party of previously asserted rights or claims to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica;

A renunciation or diminution by any Contracting Party of 

any basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica which 

it may have whether as a result of its activities or those of its 

nationals in Antarctica, or otherwise;

Prejudicing the position of any Contracting Party as regards 

its recognition or non-recognition of any other State’s right of or 

claim or basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica.

To paraphrase, the treaty should not be interpreted as 

a renunciation of previously asserted rights or basis of a 

claim, nor is the treaty to prejudice the position of any party 

as regards its recognition or nonrecognition of any other 

state’s right of claim or basis of a claim. The words “any 

basis of claim” in paragraph 1(b) may protect the prior 

interests of nonclaimant states such as the United States 

and the Soviet Union, which had not previously sought to 

assert a claim but which might do so in the future. The 

words “or those of its nationals” will cover claims made 

on behalf of, but not ratified by, the state concerned. In 

this way, the potential claimants may protect their “rights” 

to make a claim in the future. Nonclaimants may also be 

protected by Article IV, paragraph 1(c), which provides 

that a Contracting Party does not prejudice its position as 

“regards its recognition or non-recognition of the rights or 

claims of other states.” This provision also protects claimants who have already recognised the Antarctic sovereignty 

of other states. Claimants are further protected by Article 

IV, paragraph 1(a), which provides that the treaty is not a 

renunciation of “previously asserted rights or claims to territorial sovereignty.” Similarly, Article IV, paragraph 1(b), 

provides that “any basis of claim” that a state may have is 

not to be reduced or diminished by the treaty.

The words of Article IV are circuitous and ambiguous, leaving each state free to interpret the provision as it 

deems necessary to protect its juridical position. Despite 

this, few legal clauses have proved to be as successful in 

international dispute resolution as Article IV. Few such 

clauses have formed the foundation for so extensive a superstructure of interlinked treaties for the governance of 

so large a part of the world. Deliberately obscure, creating 

what Marcoux described as a “purgatory of ambiguity,”21

Article IV has enabled states with diametrically inconsistent juridical positions on Antarctic sovereignty to engage 

cooperatively and fruitfully in one of the most effective 

regimes for global governance to be established within the 

international community.

Not only does Article IV enable states with differing legal perspectives on Antarctica to participate in the 

Antarctic Treaty, but it has also formed the glue for the 

subsequently negotiated interlinked agreements that now 

compose the regime. Parties to the Antarctic Fisheries Convention are, for example, bound by Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty in their relations with each other, even though 

they may not all be parties to the Antarctic Treaty.22

Important though it is to understand the function of 

Article IV within the ATS, it is also clear, as the United 

Kingdom’s Sir Arthur Watts pointed out in 1986, that 

the provision has not “solved” the sovereignty problem. 
4 4 • science diplomacy

National claims to territorial sovereignty or interests in 

Antarctica are “still very much alive.”23 Fifty years after 

the treaty was negotiated, the claimant states remain 

adamant that they have valid and genuine claims to sovereignty. Moreover, there are no strategic reasons why 

claimant states should relinquish their juridical positions. 

If at any time the major interests of the claimant states 

are not met through the ATS, for example, in the event of 

weak environmental protection or overfishing, the trump 

card of sovereignty remains to be played. The Antarctic 

Treaty cannot, however, arrest time. New ideas of “common spaces” and a growing intolerance for traditional notions of territorial sovereignty in a pristine and beautiful 

continent suggest that it will be difficult to gain international support for national claims in Antarctica.

EVOLUTION OF THE ANTARCTIC 

TREATY SYSTEM

Before setting out the evolution of the regime created 

under the Antarctic Treaty umbrella, it might be useful to 

review the technical means of Antarctic law making. Under 

Article IX the Consultative Parties are required to meet at 

“suitable intervals and places” for, among other things, 

“recommending to their Governments, measures in furtherance of the principles and objectives of the Treaty.” Any 

such measures could be either mandatory or hortatory, the 

majority being the latter. In 1995, by Decision 1, the term 

“recommendation” was deleted, and new terms were adopted. The term “measures” is to address mandatory obligations under Article IX. “Decisions” are also mandatory, 

but as they are administrative in nature, they do not require subsequent Article IX approval by all Consultative 

Parties. For the future, “resolutions” were to be hortatory 

only. This new terminology and legal status for Consultative Party determinations are vital to understanding the 

governance mechanisms adopted over the life of the treaty.

The states negotiating the Antarctic Treaty were not 

initially concerned with resource issues and referred to 

environmental matters only in Article IX, paragraph 1(f), 

calling for “preservation and conservation of living resources in Antarctica.” Despite the primary geopolitical 

objectives of the treaty, the Consultative Parties rapidly 

came to appreciate that a primary function of Antarctic 

governance for the future was to preserve and conserve 

the environment. Indeed, it has been a feature of Antarctic 

governance that the Consultative Parties attempted to be 

“proactive” in negotiating measures and agreements that 

addressed issues before they became politically too difficult to address. 

Employing the mechanism for regulation under the 

Antarctic Treaty, the Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora were adopted in 1964. 

These measures provide for the adoption of “specially 

protected areas” of outstanding scientific interest and for 

a permit system for the taking of designated species. Two 

voluntary standards were subsequently adopted: the 1975 

Code of Conduct to protect against human interference in 

the Antarctic environment and a Statement of Accepted 

Principles and Good Conduct Guide for Tourist Groups.

The first separate treaty to be negotiated by the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties was the Convention for 

the Conservation of Antarctic Seals (CCAS) in 1972. It was 

believed that pelagic seals on the floating ice pack of the 

Southern Ocean and high seas could not be regulated by 

the Antarctic Treaty itself as the treaty has no application to 

the high seas. In Article 1 of CCAS, the Consultative Parties 

agreed to affirm the provisions of Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty so that nothing in CCAS could prejudice the 

maritime claims of the parties in Antarctica. The Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals is intended to 

promote and achieve the objectives of “protection, scientific 

study and rational use of Antarctic seals, and to maintain a 

satisfactory balance within the ecological system.” Certain 

species are not to be killed or captured by nationals of the 

parties within the seas south of 60°S latitude. 

The technique of drafting a separate treaty to deal with 

a specific issue while maintaining dominance by the Antarctic Treaty Parties and protected by a sovereign neutrality clause provided a valuable precedent for the subsequent 

negotiation in 1980 of the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR). 

The ATCPs had recognised at the Eighth Consultative 

Meeting in 1975 that international interest in exploiting 

krill and other marine living resources of the Southern 

Ocean demanded effective regulation. By the late 1960s 

commercial and unregulated fishing was making considerable inroads in certain fish stocks, such as the marbled 

rockcod in the waters around South Georgia. Yet another 

motivation for speedy negotiation of CCAMLR was recognition that a failure to regulate the living resources in 

the area south of 60° parallel could jeopardise the interests 

of the claimant states and undermine the authority of the 

ATCPs to manage the area. CCAMLR has been one of the 

most successful agreements within the ATS in that, in contrast to the Antarctic Treaty itself, the ATCPs succeeded 

in creating an international organisation with legal personality, headquarters, an executive secretary, and staff. A 

commission has been established that meets annually and 

has a decision-making capacity based on consensus rather 

than unanimity.
TRIGGS / LEGAL CREATIVITY AND COOPERATION • 4 5

Rather more controversial than the protection of marine resources or the environment was the question of how 

to regulate mineral exploration and exploitation in Antarctica. Again, the Consultative Parties adopted the, by now 

familiar, technique of negotiating a new treaty with interlinking, sovereignty-neutral clauses. The Convention on the 

Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities was 

completed in 1988 but never came into force.24 It was almost immediately made redundant by the Madrid Protocol 

on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Madrid Protocol) of 1991 that prohibited any activity relating 

to mineral resources, other than scientific research.25 In effect, an indefinite prohibition on mining exploration and 

exploitation has been agreed. After 50 years any Consultative Party may request a conference to review the operation 

of the protocol. A three-quarters majority of Consultative 

Parties will then be required to overturn the prohibition. 

The protocol establishes a Committee for Environmental 

Protection (CEP) to advise and make recommendations to 

the parties and to report to the annual Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meetings (ATCM). Of critical importance to 

the effectiveness of the protocol has been the recent agreement upon the terms of Annex VI, with respect to the strict 

liability of operators in Antarctica. Under Article 6, an operator who fails to take a “prompt and effective response 

action to environmental emergencies arising from its activities shall be liable to pay the costs of response action taken 

by the Parties.” The terms “prompt,” “effective,” and “respond” are not defined and remain to be interpreted in the 

practices of the ATS.

Finally, and importantly for the future of the ATS, the 

Consultative Parties agreed at the 24th ATCM in St. Petersburg in 2001 to create a permanent secretariat with 

headquarters in Buenos Aires, Argentina. This new body 

does not have international personality and plays an essentially support role for the ATCMs and the CEP, with 

further responsibilities under the Liability Annex. The 

Consultative Parties have responded to concerns that the 

activities of the ATS are not transparent by establishing a 

Web site, and the secretariat has been effective in supporting the activities of the ATS. Nonetheless, the Consultative 

Parties remain reluctant to agree to the secretariat exercising any real autonomy or discretionary power.

JURISDICTION: HUMANE SOCIETY 

INTERNATIONAL v. KYOTO SENPAKU 

KAISHA LTD (JAPANESE WHALING CASE)

A potent risk to the stability of the ATS is the temptation for claimant states to exercise jurisdiction within their 

claimed sectors. Although it is a sine qua non of national 

sovereignty that the state may assert jurisdiction over all 

persons found within its territory or territorial seas, Article VIII of the Antarctic Treaty confines jurisdiction over 

observers and scientific personnel and their staff to the 

Contracting Party of which they are nationals. It is “one 

of the major unresolved questions” raised by the Antarctic Treaty that it leaves open whether foreign nationals 

may, in other circumstances, be subject to the jurisdiction 

of other states in respect of their Antarctic activities.26 In 

practice, claimant states have routinely confined the exercise of jurisdiction over acts and persons within their Antarctic territories to their nationals and have refrained from 

applying domestic laws to the nationals of other states. 

The long-standing state practice of restricting the traditional jurisdictional reach of a territorial state has avoided 

clashes over sovereignty and enabled cooperation on the 

primary objectives of Antarctic science.27

A challenge to this amicable compromise of juridical 

positions has recently arisen in the litigation before the Federal Court of Australia in the Humane Society International 

v. Kyoto Senpaku Kaisha Ltd (Japanese Whaling Case).

28

The international legal problem arose in the following way. 

A Japanese company, Kyodo Senpaku Kaish Ltd, had taken 

over 400 minke whales in the Australian Whale Sanctuary 

that had been declared off the coast of the AAT, throughout 

Australia’s exclusive economic zone (EEZ). The taking of 

whales in the sanctuary was contrary to the Environment 

Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC),

which makes it an offence to kill or interfere with marine 

mammals.29 The act extended to foreign fishing vessels and 

their crews. The Federal Court of Australia declared that 

whaling by the Japanese company was illegal and issued an 

injunction restraining it from further whaling in the area. 

The declaration of a whale sanctuary in the waters off the 

AAT is a legally consistent element of Australia’s sovereignty claim.30 However, to enforce Australian legislation 

against a nonnational, in this case the Japanese company, is 

contrary to Article VIII of the Antarctic Treaty. 

In the usual course of events, Australia would take 

action to enforce an injunction properly issued by the Federal Court of Australia. The Australian government chose 

not to do that, on the grounds that the act should not be 

enforced against foreign citizens unless they had submitted 

to the jurisdiction of the Australian courts.31 The Australian government thus avoided the deeply divisive consequences within the Antarctic Treaty System that were 

likely to have been sparked had the injunction been enforced. There is also the risk that the International Court 

of Justice or the International Tribunal for the Law of the 

Sea might gain jurisdiction over the dispute, in which case 
4 6 • science diplomacy

Article IV would provide little protection for Australia’s 

position at international law.

Although confrontation with Japan was avoided, the 

Japanese Whaling case exposes the vulnerability of the ATS 

where state parties threaten to take unilateral action to enforce their laws in and around Antarctica. The litigation 

also illustrates the embarrassing consequences for governments of giving procedural capacity to a private entity, e.g., 

the Humane Society International, to apply directly to a 

court to apply national legislation. Had Australia decided 

to enforce the injunction against the Japanese company, 

the weaknesses of Australia’s international legal position 

in Antarctica would potentially have been open to international scrutiny. Enforcement against a nonnational would 

have exposed not only the difficulties in substantiating 

Australia’s 42% claim under international law but also the 

questionable validity of its proclamation of a 200 nautical 

mile EEZ adjacent to its claimed territory.32 Apart from 

the complications arising from an assertion by Australia of 

maritime jurisdiction in Antarctica, the unilateral exercise 

of jurisdiction over a nonnational might prompt other Antarctic claimants to apply their legislation to foreign nationals. Although, for the most part, an Antarctic claimant state 

has every reason to avoid disputes over sovereignty and to 

act within the constraints of the Antarctic Treaty, there will 

be occasions when popular demand for the application of 

more stringent and enforceable national legislation, especially to protect the environment, seems attractive. For the 

Australian government to enforce a court injunction to prevent Japanese whaling in the Southern Ocean would have 

been popular, both within the national and international 

spheres. Where national environmental legislation is more 

stringent and effective than the measures and decisions of 

the ATS, the temptation to act outside the boundaries of 

the Antarctic Treaty may become increasingly attractive, 

although it also carries considerable risks.

TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY CHALLENGES 

TO THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM

Successful though the ATS has been over its 50 year 

evolution, the twenty-first century poses some new, sensitive, and complex challenges to the authority of the regime. 

Collaboration with Other

International Organisations

The Japanese Whaling case exposes the imperative 

that the ATS should interact collaboratively with other 

international organisations that have interests in the 

Southern Ocean and Antarctica. The Antarctic Treaty itself does not deal with whales, the rationale being that the 

International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling 

(ICRW), established 10 years earlier in 1949, was the international institution specifically empowered to regulate 

whales. The International Whaling Commission has not, 

however, been able to take effective action against Japan 

for its “scientific whaling” in the Southern Ocean. This 

failure has arguably stimulated litigation by the Humane 

Society International to enforce national legislation, with 

all the attendant risks discussed above. 

It may now be time to reconsider the traditional position taken within the ATS that it should not attempt 

to regulate whaling in the Southern Ocean. The Madrid 

Protocol is, for example, sufficiently widely drafted to 

include marine mammals. Article 2 provides that parties 

are committed to protect the “dependent and associated 

ecosystems” of the Antarctic.33 Such language appears 

to include migratory whales. It is also relevant that the 

environmental principles of the protocol extend to activities in the Antarctic Treaty area, including whaling 

by ships. Article 3 of the protocol requires that all activities in the area are “planned and conducted so as to 

avoid . . . further jeopardy to endangered or threatened 

species.”34 It is not easy, however, to harmonise obligations under the protocol with other, apparently contrary, 

provisions within the ATS. Article VI of CCAMLR, for 

example, provides that the convention is not to “derogate 

from the rights and obligations . . . under the ICRW.” Reports commissioned by the Paris, Sydney, and Canberra 

Working Groups on Whaling have attempted to resolve 

such treaty conflicts through traditional legal techniques 

of interpretation. These technical legal arguments are 

not entirely convincing in their efforts to harmonise international agreements that grew like Topsy to provide 

solutions to contemporary issues. The agreements within 

the ATS and other treaties with interests in the Southern 

Ocean are jostling for space with each other as activities 

there increase. Rationalisation and good faith collaboration are now required.

Beyond the specific issue of whaling in the Southern 

Ocean is the wider question of overlapping mandates 

under other international agreements and institutions 

with growing interests in Antarctica. The parties to the 

Madrid Protocol are obliged to “consult and cooperate” with parties to other international institutions.35

Such bodies could include the UN International Seabed 

Authority, the International Maritime Organisation, the 

International Whaling Commission, the UN Continental 
TRIGGS / LEGAL CREATIVITY AND COOPERATION • 4 7

Shelf Commission, the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation, the World Health Organisation, the UN Environment Programme, the International Hydrographic 

Organisation, the Antarctic and Southern Ocean Coalition, the International Union for Conservation of Nature, 

the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators, and regional fisheries organisations. All these bodies may be invited to ATCM and meetings of CCAMLR. 

There is evidence of some commendable collaboration 

emerging, including that among the East Antarctic coastal 

states (South Africa, France, New Zealand, and Australia) in response to unreported fishing of Patagonian tooth 

fish and the South Indian Ocean fishing arrangement. It 

is hoped that greater efforts to act through strategic alliances and to develop thematic regional cooperation will 

develop in the future.

Antarctic Continental Shelf Delimitation

For the claimant states, their Antarctic territory automatically brings with it sovereign rights to the resources of 

the continental shelf under the 1982 UN Law of the Sea 

Convention. The importance of the continental shelf lies 

in its significant oil resources. The U.S. Energy Information Administration reported in 2000 that the Weddell and 

Ross seas hold 50 billion barrels of oil, similar to Alaska’s 

known reserves.36 Before long, it might be expected that 

the UN Continental Shelf Commission will be asked to 

consider the limits of an Antarctic continental shelf claim. 

Any such request will, in turn, beg the question of the 

validity of the relevant claim to territorial sovereignty. A 

request for recognition of an Antarctic continental shelf 

will, moreover, pose yet another unanswered question of 

interpretation of Article IV, paragraph 2, prohibiting any 

“new claim, or enlargement of an existing claim, to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica.” It is strongly arguable 

that delineation of the limits of the continental shelf is not 

a new “claim” for the purposes of Article IV, paragraph 

2, because delineation is merely an assertion of sovereign 

rights that derive from the existing territorial claim. The 

commission is more likely to challenge the validity of the 

territorial claim itself, rather than the rights that arise from 

that claim. Although Australia has submitted the delimitation of its Antarctic continental shelf to the commission, 

it has asked that the commission refrain from making 

any ruling on the issue at present. In this way, the legal 

question of interpretation has been avoided for the time 

being. It might be observed, however, that not all states 

have adopted the Australian approach. New Zealand and 

the United Kingdom have, for example, relied on a more 

“minimalist” approach by making a partial submission 

only, reserving their right to submit their delineations for 

an extended continental shelf at some time in the future, if 

they decide to do so.

Threats to Security within the Antarctic Region

As Antarctica and the Southern Ocean are vulnerable 

to increasing threats from terrorism and conflict, we may 

need to view the effectiveness of the ATS through the prism 

of wider concerns for security. There have been, for example, several maritime incidents that may be a harbinger of 

future threats to the Antarctic area. Whereas in the past it 

might validly be claimed that the Antarctic Treaty system 

was effective in confining the Falklands conflict to the subantarctic region, the terrorist attack on the Rainbow Warrior in New Zealand, the fire on the Nissin Maru of the 

Japanese fleet in February 2007, and recent activities by 

the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society in January 2008 in 

respect to Japanese whaling suggest that the region might 

well be a theatre of conflict in the future. Threats are 

also posed to human security within the Southern Ocean 

(though not yet within the region of Antarctica) by piracy 

and by rising numbers of asylum seekers, posing questions 

about the efficacy of search and rescue capacities.

It is, moreover, likely that global concerns for security 

from conflict will expand to wider concerns for energy, 

food, and the security of economic opportunities in the 

Antarctic. Tourism poses a risk to the environment and is 

also a human risk in the event of a serious shipping incident in which the many thousands of tourists on a single 

vessel are likely to strain rescue operations. Commercial 

risks to sustainable fishing are also likely in the future, 

with unreported fishing in the Southern Ocean of Patagonian tooth fish and southern bluefin tuna. Further, largely 

untapped, opportunities for commercial gain lie in clean 

water and bioprospecting. Resource security is thus a potential challenge to the current mining moratorium. 

CONCLUSIONS

New thinking and initiatives are required to strengthen 

the system. The ATS is, fairly or otherwise, seen by many 

as insular and nontransparent, incapable of enforcing its 

measures, and slow to respond to contemporary threats. 

What are the solutions? 

•	 It would be wise to make modest suggestions for 

reform that do not include significant legal change. 
4 8 • science diplomacy

For example, the ATCM might adopt the model of 

CCAMLR by creating an Antarctic Treaty Commission 

with legal personality. Under such a structure, the 

chair of the ATCM might be granted power to act on 

behalf of the ATCM. It will be necessary to develop 

any such proposal by reference to its objects and purposes and powers to achieve them.

•	 Some form of independent performance review, similar to those adopted by CCAMLR and the Indian 

Ocean Tuna Commission, would add credibility to the 

governance of the ATS.

•	 Greater resources need to be devoted to the region to 

plan for and manage risks on a “be prepared” basis.

•	 The well-recognized lack of capacity to enforce 

measures agreed by the Consultative Parties against 

nonparty states may become a more significant impediment to governance. Increased efforts to encourage further accessions to the ATS by the international 

community should be made.

•	 The two-week annual meeting of the ATCPs seems, 

on its face, to be inadequate. Although it is recognized 

that the committees, such as the Scientific Committee, 

meet much more regularly and report to the ATCM, 

the need for more-active governance suggests additional resources will be necessary in the future. 

•	 The reporting obligations of the Antarctic Treaty System are not met by most state parties, and basic functions such as monitoring and administration are only 

minimally carried out. These obligations need to be 

implemented and monitored.

One of the factors contributing to the success of the 

Antarctic Treaty has been that it created a “process, not 

just a piece of paper”.37 This means that the treaty provides the means by which, in an organic way, the states 

parties could develop principles and procedures for Antarctic governance that would ensure its primary objectives 

while leaving intact their respective views on sovereignty.

The ATS provides a valuable model for the evolution of international regimes that avoids irresolvable 

sovereignty and boundary issues. As access to living and 

nonliving resources becomes a vital matter of national 

and global security over the coming years, the ATS provides an exemplar for the promotion of peaceful problem 

solving. The ATS also demonstrates how regions beyond 

national jurisdiction might be managed in the future according to identified common interests and values that 

are more comprehensive those of traditional national 

sovereignty.

NOTES

1. Senate Committee on Foreign Relations, ExB, 86th Cong., 2nd 

sess., 14 June 1960, 48.

2. Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting XXXII in Washington, 

D.C., 6 April 2009.

3. British Antarctic Survey, “Antarctic Treaty 50th Anniversary—

2009,” http://www.antarctica.ac.uk/about_antarctica/geopolitical/treaty/

anniversary.php (accessed 5 June 2009).

4. P. J. Beck, “The United Nations and Antarctica: The End of the 

Question of Antarctica?” Polar Record 217 (2006): 222–252.

5. The first call for Antarctica to be the “common heritage of 

mankind” was made in the UN General Assembly by Malaysia’s Prime 

Minister Mahatir in September 1982; UN General Assembly, 37th Sess., 

UN Doc. A/37/PV 10, 1982. In 1987 Greenpeace established the World 

Park Base in the Ross Dependency, claimed by New Zealand, to press 

its demand that Antarctica be declared a world park within which commercial exploitation and pollution should be prohibited and research 

limited.

6. Argentina’s claim to sovereignty was incremental in the sense 

that from 1904 it occupied islands such as the South Orkneys and South 

Shetlands.

7. The remaining unclaimed sector, about one fifth of the continent, 

is Marie Byrd Land, between the Chilean and New Zealand sectors; Russia, although making no formal claim, cites the explorations by Admiral 

Bellingshausen in the 1830s as giving it a priority interest in Antarctic 

affairs.

8. R. D. Hayton, “The Antarctic Settlement of 1959,” American 

Journal of International Law 54 (1960): 352; The Argentine and Chilean 

claims spring from their inheritance of Spanish title, which in turn, rests 

on the fifteenth century Treaty Of Tordesillas, which gave all lands to the 

west of the 46th meridian to Spain and all lands to the east to Portugal; 

Chile also relies on a grant in 1539 of all territories to the south of the 

Strait of Magellan; E. W. Hunter Christie, The Antarctic Problem (London: Allen & Unwin, 1949), 277; British sovereignty was founded in 

“effective occupation” from at least 1908.

9. ICJ Reports 1956, pp. 12, 15.

10. C .H. M. Waldock, “Disputed Sovereignty in the Falkland Islands Dependencies,” British Yearbook of International Law 25 (1948): 

311–353; J. Hanessian “The Antarctic Treaty 1959,” International and 

Comparative Law Quarterly 9 (1960): 436.

11. Washington Post, “Antarctic Claims,” 2 January 1947; Hanessian, “Antarctic Treaty,” p. 436; Hayton, “Antarctic Settlement,” p. 350.

12. R. Bulkeley writes that individuals also played a role by advocating internationalisation, including T. W. Balch, an international 

lawyer, in 1910, with the support of the New York Times, and Herbert Brown a weather forecaster, “The Political Origins of the Antarctic 

Treaty,” in “Invited Reflections on the Antarctic Treaty,” Polar Record

46(1):9–11.

13. Hanessian, “Antarctic Treaty,” p. 444.

14. Hanessian, “Antarctic Treaty,” p. 441.

15. G. Triggs, International Law and Australian Sovereignty in 

Antarctica (Sydney: Legal Books, 1986), p. 277.

16. Hayton, “Antarctic Settlement.” 

17. Triggs, Australian Sovereignty, p. 423; M. M. Whiteman, Digest of International Law, vol. 11 (Washington: U.S. Department of 

State, 1963–1973), p. 1238.

18. Hanessian, “Antarctic Treaty,” p. 455.
TRIGGS / LEGAL CREATIVITY AND COOPERATION • 4 9

19. Hanessian, “Antarctic Treaty,” p. 467.

20. Hayton, “Antarctic Settlement,” p. 356.

21. J. M. Marcoux, “Natural Resource Jurisdiction on the Antarctic Continental Margin,” Virginia Journal of International Law 11 

(1971): 379.

22. Article III, CCAMLR.

23. Cited by D. K. Anton, “Australian Jurisdiction and Whales in 

Antarctica”, Asia Pacific Journal of Environmental Law 11, nos. 3 & 4 

(2008): 188.

24. The Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral 

Resource Activities has not been ratified by any state.

25. In force, 1998.

26. D. Rothwell, “Japanese Whaling in Antarctica,” Asia Pacific 

Journal of Environmental Law 11, nos. 3 & 4 (2008): 142.

27. It is arguable that state practice now supports a customary rule 

that prohibits the exercise of jurisdiction against nonnationals for their acts 

or omissions in the treaty area, Anton, “Whales in Antarctica,” p. 179.

28. Humane Society International v. Kyoto Senpaku Kaisha Ltd 

(Japanese Whaling Case), [2004] FCA 1510; [2005] FCA 678; [2006] 

FCAFC 116; [2007] FCA 124; [2008] FCA 3 (granting injunction on 

declaration that there was a breach of Australian law); [2008] FCA 36 

(leave for substituted service of orders).

29. Sec. 475 gives interested persons standing to seek orders restraining breaches of the act.

30. Australia claims a 12 nautical mile territorial sea off the AAT, 

a 200 nautical mile EEZ (the Antarctic EEZ is “excepted waters” in respect of the Australian Fisheries Zone and not subject to the Fisheries 

Management Act of 1991 [EPBC], sec. 3), and a juridical continental 

shelf of 200 nautical miles; Australia made its submission in 2004 to the 

UN Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf under Article 

76 of The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, but asked 

that the commission should “not take any action for the time being with 

respect to the Antarctic area,” 1 July 2008.

31. The attorney-general’s submissions to the Federal Court of Australia suggested that restraint was required by international law, a view 

that is legally questionable, www.envlaw.com.au/whale7.pdf; the EPBC 

Act does not include any provision making the act subject to Australia’s 

obligations under international law and gives an enforcement capacity to 

any interested persons under sec. 475.

32. Only four states, France, New Zealand, Norway, and the 

United Kingdom, accept Australia’s territorial claim since 1933; more 

specifically, Japan has been consistent in refusing to recognize Australia’s claim, including in 2006 when the Humane Society International 

attempted to serve Kyodo with the Federal Court of Australia injunction, [2008] FCA 3[20]; Australia is vulnerable to the argument that all 

the maritime claims (except with respect to the continental shelf claim 

made in 1953) are in breach of Article IV, paragraph 2, because they are 

new sovereign claims or extensions of claims; if so, Australia would have 

no jurisdiction over the activities of a nonnational in the waters of the 

Southern Ocean off the AAT.

33. The meaning of the phrase “dependent and associated ecosystems” is unclear and was adopted in the protocol to ensure that any 

major pollution incidents stemming from mineral exploration or exploitation would be covered in respect of the waters adjacent to Chile.

34. Article 3, paragraph 2(b)(v).

35. The protocol is, in any event, subservient to the Antarctic 

Treaty, and it is arguable that it does not regulate whaling activities in 

Antarctic Treaty area. The CCAMLR Commission, through its Scientific 

Committee, has the stronger claim to take action in respect to whaling, 

although it has thus far chose to tread carefully.

36. Cited by Anton, “Whales in Antarctica,” p. 192.

37. British Antarctic Survey, “50th Anniversary.”

F

ifty years ago on 2 May 1958 the government of the United States of 

America circulated a note to the 12 states most actively involved in 

scientific research in Antarctica during the International Geophysical 

Year, initiating discussions regarding the convening of a conference on 

Antarctica and the conclusion of an international treaty for this area. Shortly 

after the circulation of the note, on 10 June 1958, these 12 states, namely, Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Chile, France, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South 

Africa, the United Kingdom, the United States, and the Union of Soviet Socialist 

Republics (USSR), started informal preliminary discussions in Washington that 

resulted in the convening of an international conference in Washington on 15 

October 1959. On 1 December 1959 the conference resulted in the signing of 

the Antarctic Treaty, which entered into force on 23 June 1961 and currently 

defines an international regime for this vast area of our planet. The Antarctic 

Treaty turned out to be one of the most successful international agreements 

concluded by states belonging to two opposite ideological and military blocks, 

despite the extreme tension existing between them during the cold war period. 

It is also remarkable that the 12 states concerned managed to overcome a disagreement that existed and continues to exist among them regarding the legal 

status of the Antarctic continent in general and certain parts thereof that are 

considered by seven of them, namely, Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New 

Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom, to be part of their territory.

A lot was said at the Antarctic Treaty Summit: Science-Policy Interactions 

in International Governance about the important role played by the Antarctic 

Treaty in ensuring close international cooperation in Antarctica, in providing 

solid ground for development of scientific research in Antarctica in the interest 

of all mankind, and in preserving Antarctica as an area of peace and stability, 

free of military rivalry and confrontation. Therefore, I will concentrate only on 

one aspect of the Antarctic Treaty that, in my view, is crucial for understanding 

what constitutes a foundation of the treaty and for retaining Antarctica as an 

area of peace and stability in the interests of future generations. I refer to the 

provisions of Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty.

In a balanced way, Article IV reflects the positions of the three groups of 

states that negotiated the Antarctic Treaty: states that consider the respective 

Balancing Sovereign Interests beyond 

National Jurisdictions

Vladimir Golitsyn

Vladimir Golitsyn, International Tribunal 

for the Law of the Sea, Am Internationalen 

Seegerichtshof 1, D-22609 Hamburg, Germany. 

Correspondence: vgolitsyn@gmail.com.
5 2 • science diplomacy

parts of the Antarctic continent as their territory; states 

that did not claim any sovereignty in Antarctica at the 

time of the conclusion of the treaty but consider that they 

may have legitimate right to do so; and states that take 

the position that no state can claim sovereignty in Antarctica. The position of the first group of states is reflected 

in paragraph 1(a) of Article IV, which states that nothing contained in the present treaty shall be interpreted as 

“a renunciation by any Contracting Party of previously 

asserted rights of or claims to territorial sovereignty in 

Antarctica.” Paragraph 1(b) conveys the position of the 

second group by providing that nothing contained in the 

present treaty shall be interpreted as “a renunciation or 

diminution by any Contracting Party of any basis of claim 

to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica which it may have 

whether as a result of its activities or those of its nationals 

in Antarctica, or otherwise.” Finally, paragraph 1(c) reflects the position of the third group, which currently constitutes the overwhelming majority of the Treaty Parties; it 

states that nothing contained in the present treaty shall be 

interpreted as “prejudicing the position of any Contracting Party as regards its recognition or nonrecognition of 

any other State’s right of or claim or basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica.”

The above provisions are supplemented by an important commitment contained in paragraph 2 of Article IV, 

which states that “no acts or activities taking place while 

the present Treaty is in force shall constitute a basis for 

asserting, supporting or denying a claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica or create any rights of sovereignty 

in Antarctica. No new claim, or enlargement of an existing 

claim, to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica shall be asserted while the present Treaty is in force.”

What is important to understand in relation to Article 

IV of the treaty is that contrary to widespread perception, 

the Antarctic Treaty does not freeze claims to territorial 

sovereignty in Antarctica. The Antarctic Treaty proclaims 

noble goals and contains concrete provisions aimed at 

ensuring their implementation. It states that Antarctica 

shall be used for peaceful purposes only and in this regard 

prohibits any measure of a military nature, such as the 

establishment of military bases and fortifications, the carrying out of military manoeuvres, and the testing of any 

type of weapon. In addition, it prohibits nuclear explosions in Antarctica and the disposal there of radioactive 

waste material. The treaty guarantees freedom of scientific 

investigation in Antarctica and cooperation toward that 

end and provides for the exchange of information regarding plans for scientific programs, scientific observations, 

and results from Antarctica and the exchange of scientific 

personnel in Antarctica. None of the objectives of the Antarctic Treaty could have been achieved on the basis of the 

position of only one of the groups of states referred to 

above. In order to achieve these objectives, which represented the common interests of the drafters of the treaty, 

the 12 original parties to the treaty agreed to retain status 

quo in Antarctica; in other words, they agreed to freeze 

the settlement of the issue of territorial claims in Antarctica. The Antarctic Treaty Parties agreed to assume obligations that correspond to the objectives of the treaty, but 

they retained at the same time their respective positions 

with regard to the issue of sovereignty.

Why is it so important to understand the role of Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty? The answer is because 

any new activity in Antarctica that goes beyond the scope 

of the Antarctic Treaty requires revisiting the provisions 

of Article IV to determine whether that activity could be 

accommodated by extending the application of Article IV. 

The development of the so-called Antarctic Treaty System 

has demonstrated that so far, the Antarctic Treaty Parties 

have been willing and capable of applying the understandings embodied in Article IV of the treaty to some new activities by adjusting such understandings as required. The 

Antarctic Treaty System is a set of complex arrangements 

made for the purpose of coordinating relations among 

states with respect to Antarctica and includes the Antarctic Treaty itself, recommendations adopted at meetings of 

the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties, the Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, and two 

separate conventions, the Conservation of Antarctic Seals 

(London, 1972) and the Conservation of Antarctic Marine 

Living Resources (Canberra, 1980). The Antarctic Treaty 

System also includes the results of Meetings of Experts 

and the decisions of Special Consultative Meetings and, at 

a nongovernmental level, reflects the work of the Scientific 

Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR) on all aspects 

of the system.

However, efforts of the Antarctic Treaty Parties have 

not always been successful. The Convention for the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities (Wellington, 1988) has not been ratified by any state and, 

consequently, has never entered into force. This lack of 

ratification occurred not only because of deficiency of or 

dissatisfaction with its provisions concerning protection 

of environment but also, as I will try to demonstrate, because of reasons related to the issue of sovereignty. Consequently, the future of the Antarctic Treaty and the system 

that has evolved on the basis of its provisions will depend, 

to a great extent, on the ability of these three groups of 

states to continue to work together within the framework 
GOLITSYN / B ALANCING SOVEREIGN INTERESTS • 5 3

of the treaty to accommodate new activities, in particular, 

those relating to the potential use of Antarctic mineral resources, both on land and off the shore.

As we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of the 

conclusion of the Antarctic Treaty and look with pride 

on the past achievements, we should be mindful of what 

lies ahead, be realistic, and have the courage to acknowledge that there are serious perils on the horizon that may 

endanger the delicate balance of interests preserved by 

the Antarctic Treaty System, the cornerstone of which is 

the treaty itself. Recent submissions to the Commission 

on the Limits of the Continental Shelf by states claiming sovereignty in Antarctica have clearly demonstrated 

that rivalry over the territorial status of Antarctica is still 

present. It has not vanished over the last 50 years despite 

all the achievements of the Antarctic Treaty System; it 

is still alive and raises questions about the ability of the 

Antarctic Treaty System to withstand challenges posed by 

the potential opening of Antarctic mineral resources for 

exploitation.

According to Article VI of the Antarctic Treaty, its 

provisions apply to the area south of 60°S latitude, including all ice shelves. This is an artificial boundary as it does 

not represent the geographical boundary of Antarctica. 

Presumably, this latitude was selected because all land that 

is disputed and viewed by many states as territorial claims 

is located south of 60°S latitude.

The first time that the Antarctic Treaty Parties had to 

deal with the regulation of a commercial activity in Antarctica related to its resources was in 1972 in the case of 

the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals. 

Although there had been no attempt to exploit Antarctic 

seals commercially since 1964, the SCAR Group of Specialists on Antarctic Seals continued to monitor the taking of seals for scientific purposes, and the Treaty Parties 

came to the conclusion that there was a need to develop 

an international mechanism to protect the conservation 

of Antarctic seals. The Antarctic Treaty Parties had the 

choice of incorporating the agreement in the form of an 

Antarctic Treaty Recommendation or of adopting a freestanding instrument, and they chose the latter option. As 

there was no commercial activity related to the exploitation of Antarctic seals, the Antarctic Treaty Parties easily 

agreed that this convention should apply to the seas south 

of 60°S latitude (Article 1, “Scope of the Convention”), 

in respect of which the Contracting Parties affirmed the 

provisions of Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty.

However, eight years later in the case of Antarctic 

marine living resources the Antarctic Treaty Parties were 

confronted with a serious challenge to reach an agreement 

on how it would be possible, if at all, to apply the provisions of Article IV of the treaty to the activities related 

to the use of these resources. In the 1970s, the Antarctic 

waters were gradually becoming an area of quite extensive 

fishery activities. The Antarctic Consultative Parties recognized that there was an urgent need to establish some 

form of regulatory mechanism that would ensure conservation and sustainable use of the Antarctic marine living 

resources. At that time, negotiations on the Law of the Sea 

Convention had not been completed yet. However, it was 

more or less accepted by all states that the new convention 

would entitle coastal states to establish zones extending 

up to 200 nautical miles, within which they would have 

the sovereign rights for the purpose of exploiting, conserving, and managing its living resources. On 26 September 

1977 New Zealand adopted a new law regarding the territorial sea and the exclusive economic zone, and in 1979 

Australia adopted new legislation on the 200 nautical mile 

fishery zone. The states claiming sovereignty in Antarctica 

took and continue to maintain a position that the establishment of such zones is an act of exercise of their sovereign rights under international law and therefore does not 

constitute an extension of the existing claim to territorial 

sovereignty, which is prohibited by paragraph 2 of Article 

IV of the Antarctic Treaty. States that do not recognize 

claims to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica took and 

continue to maintain the opposite position.

Marine living resources do not recognize boundaries. To be effective, their conservation and management 

should be organized on a regional basis covering all areas 

of their migration. It should be acknowledged as a significant achievement of the Antarctic Treaty Parties in the 

1970s that, first, they agreed to approach the conservation 

and management of Antarctic marine living resources by 

negotiating a convention applying to the entire area of the 

Antarctic marine ecosystem and, second, in the process of 

such negotiations conducted within the framework of a 

Special Consultative Meeting convened for this purpose, 

they managed to reach a common understanding on how 

the provisions of Article IV of the treaty could be extended 

to this new activity while preserving, with respect to the 

issue of sovereignty, the status quo enshrined in the Antarctic Treaty.

The Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic 

Marine Living Resources, which was concluded in Canberra, Australia, in May 1980 and entered into force on 

7 April 1982, applies to the entire area of the Antarctic marine ecosystem and is limited in the north by the 

Antarctic Convergence, a major circum-Antarctic biogeographic boundary where the cold, northerly moving 
5 4 • science diplomacy

waters dip beneath warmer, southerly moving subtropical 

waters. Article I, paragraph 1, of this convention provides 

that the convention applies to the Antarctic marine living 

resources of the area south of 60°S latitude and to the 

Antarctic marine living resources of the area between that 

latitude and the Antarctic Convergence, which form part 

of the Antarctic marine ecosystem.

The issue of territorial sovereignty, as in the case of 

the Antarctic Treaty, is addressed in Article IV of the convention. Since the convention is open to states and entities (e.g., the European Union) who are not parties to the 

Antarctic Treaty, the convention contains an important 

condition that binds all parties to the convention by the 

provisions of Article IV of the treaty. Paragraph 1 of Article IV of the convention states that with respect to the 

Antarctic Treaty area, all Contracting Parties, whether or 

not they are parties to the Antarctic Treaty, are bound by 

Articles IV and VI of the Antarctic Treaty in their relations 

with each other. Article VI of the Antarctic Treaty relates 

to freedoms of high seas.

The compromise between the three groups of states 

as reflected in Article IV of the convention contains three 

main elements. Paragraph 2(a) of that article reiterates 

their basic positions and states that nothing in the convention and no acts or activities taking place while it is in 

force shall constitute a basis for asserting, supporting, or 

denying a claim to territorial sovereignty in the Antarctic Treaty area or create any rights of sovereignty in the 

Antarctic Treaty area. Paragraph 2(d) addresses the issue 

of the extension of sovereign claims and provides that 

nothing in the convention and no acts or activities taking 

place while it is in force affect the provision of Article IV, 

paragraph 2, of the Antarctic Treaty that no new claim, or 

enlargement of an existing claim, to territorial sovereignty 

in Antarctica shall be asserted while the Antarctic Treaty 

is in force.

Paragraphs 2(b) and (c) deal with coastal state jurisdiction and reflect the positions of claimant and nonclaimant states on this issue. They respectively provide that 

nothing in the convention and no acts or activities taking 

place while it is in force shall be interpreted as a renunciation or diminution by any Contracting Party of, or as 

prejudicing, any right or claim or basis of claim to exercise 

coastal state jurisdiction under international law within 

the area to which this convention applies or be interpreted 

as prejudicing the position of any Contracting Party as regards its recognition or nonrecognition of any such right, 

claim, or basis of claim.

Despite their disagreement regarding coastal state 

jurisdiction in Antarctica, reflected in Article IV of the 

convention, both claimant and nonclaimant states as parties to the convention agreed to entrust the responsibility 

for the conservation and management of Antarctic marine 

living resources to the Commission for the Conservation 

of Antarctic Marine Living Resources established pursuant to Article VII of the convention. The commission is 

empowered under the convention, inter alia, to identify 

conservation needs and analyze the effectiveness of conservation measures; to formulate, adopt, and revise conservation measures on the basis of the best scientific evidence 

available; to implement the system of observation and 

inspection established under Article XXIV of this convention; and to carry out such other activities as are necessary 

to fulfil the objective of the convention. The conservation 

measures that may be adopted by the commission include 

the designation of the quantity of any species which may 

be harvested in the area to which this convention applies; 

the designation of regions and subregions based on the 

distribution of populations of Antarctic marine living 

resources; the designation of the quantity which may be 

harvested from the populations of regions and subregions; 

the designation of protected species; the designation of the 

size, age, and, as appropriate, sex of species which may 

beharvested; the designation of open and closed seasons 

for harvesting; the designation of the opening and closing 

of areas, regions, or subregions for purposes of scientific 

study or conservation, including special areas for protection and scientific study; and regulation of the effort employed and methods of harvesting, including fishing gear, 

with a view, inter alia, to avoiding undue concentration of 

harvesting in any region or subregion.

The compromise achieved in Article IV of the convention was possible because of the good will of all the parties 

concerned who shared the view that effective conservation 

and management of Antarctic marine living resources requires a regional approach and that such a regime should 

apply to the whole area of the Antarctic marine ecosystem. 

However, in addition to Article IV, the convention also 

includes other provisions that guarantee that no activities 

will take place in Antarctica on the basis of the convention 

if they are not acceptable to the states, whose interests are 

protected by Article IV of the convention. These guarantees are embodied in Articles IX and XII of the convention. 

Article XII provides that decisions of the Commission for 

the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources on 

matters of substance are taken by consensus, which allows 

any claimant or nonclaimant state to block the adoption 

of a decision by the commission if that state disagrees with 

it. According to Article IX, paragraph 6(b), conservation 

measures adopted by the commission become binding 
GOLITSYN / B ALANCING SOVEREIGN INTERESTS • 5 5

upon all members of the commission 180 days after the 

receipt of a notification from the commission about their 

adoption. However, pursuant to paragraph 6(c) of this article, if a member of the commission, within 90 days following such notification, informs the commission that it is 

unable to accept the conservation measure, in whole or in 

part, the respective measure shall not, to the extent stated, 

be binding upon that member of the commission.

The Antarctic Treaty Parties found themselves in a 

much more complex situation in the case of mineral resources, namely, in determining whether it would be likewise possible to find common ground regarding a minerals 

regime that should govern their exploration and exploitation. In the mid-1970s some geophysical prospecting companies started making inquiries about the possibility of 

prospecting for mineral resources in the Southern Ocean 

surrounding Antarctica. At the time of the negotiation of 

the Antarctic Treaty the question was raised as to whether 

the treaty should also cover mineral exploration and exploitation, and it was concluded that to do so would be 

premature. However, in the mid-1970s it was understood 

by the Antarctic Treaty Parties that the question of how 

Antarctic mineral activity was to be regulated, were it ever 

to occur, would not go away.

As a first step the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties 

agreed, by adopting Recommendation IX-1 at the Ninth 

Consultative Meeting, to “urge their nationals and other 

States to refrain from all exploration and exploitation of 

Antarctic mineral resources while [they are] making progress towards the timely adoption of an agreed regime.” 

Negotiations on a minerals regime, which lasted for almost 10 years and were conducted within the framework 

of the Fourth Special Consultative Meeting convened for 

that purpose, culminated in the adoption of the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resources 

Activities (CRAMRA) on 2 June 1988 in Wellington, New 

Zealand.

The first problem that the Antarctic Treaty Parties 

needed to resolve in elaborating a minerals regime was 

the question of the potential area of its application. Pursuant to Article 1, paragraph 1(a) of the Convention on 

the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), to which, with one exception, all Antarctic Treaty Parties are members, the seabed 

and ocean floor and subsoil thereof beyond the limits of 

national jurisdiction constitute the “Area.” In accordance 

with Articles 136 and 137 of UNCLOS, the Area and its resources are the common heritage of mankind and no state 

shall claim or exercise sovereignty or sovereign rights over 

any part of the Area or its resources, nor shall any state or 

natural or juridical person appropriate any part thereof, 

and no such claim or exercise of sovereignty or sovereign 

rights nor such appropriation shall be recognized.

If there is no sovereignty over land mass in Antarctica, 

theoretically, there should be no continental shelf in Antarctica, which according to Article 76 of UNCLOS, constitutes the natural prolongation of the land territory of a 

state up to the outer edge of the continental margin. The 

Antarctic Treaty Parties sidestepped the problem of the 

origin of rights to the continental shelf by adopting an approach implying that if a minerals regime is elaborated that 

is applicable to the land mass in Antarctica, irrespective of 

its status (in other words, applicable to the Antarctic continent and surrounding islands), then it should logically 

be extended to what constitutes the natural prolongation 

of this land mass in submarine areas appertaining to that 

land mass. Article 5, paragraphs 2 and 3, of CRAMRA 

provide that the convention “shall regulate Antarctic mineral resource activities which take place on the continent 

of Antarctica and all Antarctic islands, including all ice 

shelves, south of 60° south latitude and in the seabed and 

subsoil of adjacent offshore areas up to the deep seabed” 

and that “for the purposes of this Convention ‘deep seabed’ means the seabed and subsoil beyond the geographic 

extent of the continental shelf as the term continental shelf 

is defined in accordance with international law.”

In the Final Act of the Fourth Special Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meeting that adopted the convention it is 

clarified that the area of regulation of Antarctic mineral 

resource activities defined in Article 5, paragraph 2, of the 

convention does not extend to any continental shelf appurtenant in accordance with international law to islands 

situated north of 60°S latitude. It is further clarified in the 

Final Act that the geographic extent of the continental 

shelf as referred to in Article 5, paragraph 3, of the convention would be determined by reference to all the criteria and the rules embodied in paragraphs 1–7 of Article 

76 of UNCLOS.

Article 9 of CRAMRA, “Protection of Legal Positions 

under the Antarctic Treaty,” is aimed at extending the balance reflected in Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty to new 

activities related to mineral resources and follows the format of Article IV of the Convention on the Conservation 

of Antarctic Marine Living Resources. It contains three 

main elements. Paragraph (a) of this article reiterates the 

basic positions of the three groups of states and provides 

that nothing in the convention and no acts or activities 

taking place while it is in force shall constitute a basis for 

asserting, supporting, or denying a claim to territorial sovereignty in the Antarctic Treaty area or create any rights 

of sovereignty in the Antarctic Treaty area. Paragraph 2(d) 
5 6 • science diplomacy

addresses the issue of extension of sovereign claims and 

states that nothing in the convention and no acts or activities taking place while it is in force shall affect the provision of Article IV, paragraph 2, of the Antarctic Treaty 

that no new claim, or enlargement of an existing claim, to 

territorial sovereignty in Antarctica shall be asserted while 

the Antarctic Treaty is in force.

Paragraphs (b) and (c) of Article 9 deal with potential rights to the continental shelf and therefore the text 

of paragraph (b) is slightly different from the text of the 

similar paragraph in Article IV of the Convention on 

the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources 

(paragraph 2(b)). Paragraphs (b) and (c) of Article 9 of 

CRAMRA respectively provide that nothing in the convention and no acts or activities taking place while it is in 

force shall be interpreted as a renunciation or diminution 

by any party of, or as prejudicing, any right or claim or 

basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica or to 

exercise coastal state jurisdiction under international law 

or be interpreted as prejudicing the position of any party 

as regards its recognition or nonrecognition of any such 

right, claim, or basis of claim.

In addition, the issue of territorial claims is also addressed in a special preamble paragraph stating that a regime for Antarctic mineral resources must be consistent 

with Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty and in accordance 

therewith be without prejudice and be acceptable to those 

states which assert rights of or claims to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica and those states which neither recognise nor assert such rights or claims, including those states 

which assert a basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in 

Antarctica.

Although the above provisions reiterate that the status 

quo is preserved in Antarctica in the case of the minerals 

regime, from my point of view, they are mostly symbolic 

in nature because as in the case of living resources the real 

issue is whether other substantive provisions of the minerals convention confirm that respective interests of the 

three groups of states are adequately protected. Analysis 

of substantive provisions of CRAMRA raise doubts in this 

regard.

Two main institutions that are envisaged to be established under CRAMRA are the Antarctic Mineral Resources Commission (hereinafter “the Commission”) and 

the Antarctic Mineral Resources Regulatory Committees 

(hereinafter “the Regulatory Committees”).

Membership in the Commission, inter alia, includes 

all states that were Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties 

on the date of the opening of the convention for signature, 

which includes all states that assert rights of or claims to 

territorial sovereignty in Antarctica, the two states that assert a basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica (the United States and the Russian Federation/former 

USSR), and all other states that do not recognize any such 

rights or claims (Article 18, paragraph 2(a)). So, on the 

surface, the balance of Article IV is preserved.

However, decision-making provisions of CRAMRA 

provide that the Commission shall take its decisions on 

matters of substance by a three-quarters majority of the 

members present and voting (Article 22, paragraph 1). It 

is true that according to paragraph 2 of Article 22, some 

decisions can be taken by the Commission only by consensus. However, most of them relate to budgetary/financial 

matters (Articles 21, paragraph 1(p), (q), and 35, paragraphs 1–5), which are important but secondary in nature; the elaboration of the principle of nondiscrimination 

(Article 21, paragraph 1(i)); and the identification of an 

area for possible exploitation. Consensus, however, is not 

required for decisions of the Commission concerning the 

determination of disposition of revenues received from the 

exploitation of the mineral resources (Articles 21, paragraph 1(r), and 35, paragraph 7). The only clause that addresses, in a rather oblique form, this sensitive and most 

important issue for states whose positions are reflected in 

Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty is the statement in paragraph 7(b) of Article 35 providing that the Commission, 

in determining the disposition of revenues accruing to it, 

shall ensure that the interests of the members of Regulatory Committees who have the most direct interest in the 

matter in relation to the areas in question are respected in 

any disposition of that surplus.

The fact that decisions of the Commission on such 

an important issue as revenue sharing are to be taken 

by three-quarters majority of those present and voting 

raises the question as to whether this is a fair procedure 

that adequately and in a balanced way preserves the interests of at least two groups of states referred to in Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty, namely, those who assert 

rights of or claims to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica 

and those who assert a basis of claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica. In my view, at least the rights of 

the Russian Federation, which asserted a basis of claim, 

are not adequately protected by voting procedures in the 

Commission.

Another institution that plays a crucial role in the 

implementation of the convention is a Regulatory Committee. Under the convention a 10-member Regulatory 

Committee is to be established for each area identified by 

the Commission as a coherent unit for the purposes of resource management.
GOLITSYN / B ALANCING SOVEREIGN INTERESTS • 5 7

Provisions on membership in Regulatory Committees 

are contained in Article 29 of the convention. Membership of each such Regulatory Committee should always 

include the member, if any, or if there is more than one, 

those members of the Commission identified by reference 

to Article 9, paragraph (b), which assert rights or claims 

in the identified area (Article 29, paragraph 2(a)), in other 

words, claimant states. Such membership should also include the two members of the Commission, also identified 

by reference to Article 9, paragraph (b), who assert a basis 

of claim in Antarctica (Article 29, paragraph 2(b)). These 

two countries are the United States and the Russian Federation. In general, under the convention the 10-member 

composition of each Regulatory Committee, which is determined by the Commission, should include four members identified by reference to Article 9, paragraph (b), 

who assert rights or claims, including the member or 

members, if any, referred to in paragraph (a) of Article 

29, and six members who do not assert rights or claims 

as described in Article 9, paragraph (b), including the two 

members referred to in paragraph (b) of Article 29, the 

two states that asserted basis of claim.

The Final Act of the Fourth Special Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meeting includes some additional clarifications with regard to membership in Regulatory Committees. In relation to Article 29 it states that the meeting 

agreed that the member or members of the Commission 

mentioned in Article 29, paragraph 2(a), are those identified by reference to Article IV, paragraph 1(a), of the Antarctic Treaty. The members of the Commission mentioned 

in Article 29, paragraph 2(b), are those identified by reference to Article IV, paragraph 1(b), of the Antarctic Treaty.

It is obvious from the description of the functions of 

Regulatory Committees defined in Article 31 of the convention that they will play a crucial role in the development of Antarctic mineral resources. The functions of 

each Regulatory Committee, inter alia, shall include the 

consideration of applications for exploration and development permits; approval of management schemes; issuance 

of exploration and development permits; and monitoring 

of exploration and development activities.

Decision-making procedures in Regulatory Committees are defined in Article 32 of the convention. It provides that decisions by a Regulatory Committee regarding 

approval of the management scheme (Article 48) and its 

modification (Article 54, paragraph 5) require a twothirds majority of the members present and voting, which 

majority should include a simple majority of those present 

and voting referred to in Article 29, paragraph 2(c)(i), in 

other words, states that asserted rights or claims. It also 

requires a simple majority of members present and voting 

referred to in Article 29, paragraph 2(c)(ii), which means 

two states that asserted a basis of claim and states that 

do not recognize territorial claims in Antarctica (Article 

32, paragraph 1). Decisions by a Regulatory Committee 

on guidelines identifying the general requirements for exploration and development in its area of competence and 

their revision (Article 43, paragraphs 3 and 5) require a 

two-thirds majority of the members present and voting, 

which majority shall include at least half of members of 

two groups referred to in Article 29, paragraphs 2(c)(i) 

and (ii) (Article 32, paragraph 2). Decisions by a Regulatory Committee on other matters of substance require 

a two-thirds majority of the members present and voting 

(Article 32, paragraph 3). Finally, Article 32, paragraph 5, 

provides that nothing in it shall be interpreted as preventing a Regulatory Committee, in taking decisions on matters of substance, from endeavouring to reach a consensus.

The above rather complex decision-making formulas, despite repeated references to states asserting rights 

or claims and states asserting basis of claim, do not sufficiently protect their interests because they do not exclude 

the adoption of decisions that may not be acceptable 

to them. It is obvious from the provisions on decisionmaking procedures that although efforts to reach consensus should be endeavoured and a simple majority of the 

interested group of states is required, in the end, decisions 

on substance will be taken in a Regulatory Committee by 

a two-thirds majority and a country with the most vested 

interest in the concerned area will be unable to block a 

decision that is unacceptable to it.

It appears that the efforts by the drafters of CRAMRA 

to transfer the balance of interest embodied in the provisions of the Antarctic Treaty, which was successfully reinstated in the case of marine living resources, to potential 

activities related to the use of Antarctic mineral resources 

failed to produce the required result. Leaving aside the 

question of whether CRAMRA is deficient because it does 

not provide sufficient guarantees for an adequate protection of the very fragile Antarctic environment, a conclusion may be reached that the respective provisions of the 

convention that are supposed to accommodate the interests of the three groups of states referred to in Article IV 

of the Antarctic Treaty do not preserve the required balance of interest and leave no doubt that some key states 

will find it difficult to accept the convention. The lesson 

to be learned from this experience is that only a convention that provides guarantees for real involvement in mineral resource activities and revenue sharing of all states 

whose interests are reflected in Article IV of the Antarctic 
5 8 • science diplomacy

Treaty, if and when such activities take place there, and 

a decision-making mechanism that is based on general 

agreement and not one that is based on majority vote can 

have good chance of achieving true and lasting balance of 

interest in Antarctica and therefore ensure continuation of 

stability in the area.

The Protocol on Environmental Protection to the 

Antarctic Treaty was hastily drafted by the Eleventh Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting after it became clear 

that CRAMRA had little chance to enter into force. Most 

of the provisions of the protocol, which supplements the 

Antarctic Treaty but neither modifies nor amends it, draw 

in large part from recommendations adopted earlier by 

the Consultative Parties (Article 4). The protocol prohibits in Article 7 any activity relating to mineral resources, 

other than scientific research. With respect to Article 7, 

the protocol provides in paragraph 5 of Article 25 that 

the prohibition on Antarctic mineral resource activities 

contained therein shall continue unless there is in force 

a binding legal regime on Antarctic mineral resource activities that includes an agreed means for determining 

whether, and if so, under which conditions, any such 

activities would be acceptable. It is further emphasized 

in Article 25 that the legal regime on Antarctic mineral 

resources shall fully safeguard the interests of all states 

referred to in Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty and apply 

the principles thereof. No reservations to the protocol are 

permitted (Article 24).

It follows that any use of Antarctic mineral resources 

in the future will require negotiation of a legally binding regime and such a regime should fully safeguard the interests 

of all states referred to in Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty.

In this regard, it is worth recalling that in their submission 

to the Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf, 

most of the states that have asserted rights or claims to 

sovereignty in Antarctica have either submitted or reserved 

the right to submit information regarding areas of their 

continental shelf in Antarctica, the extent of which has yet 

to be defined. They also stated in communications to the 

commission that they have regard to the legal and political 

status of Antarctica under the provisions of the Antarctic 

Treaty, including its Article IV, and consider that it is open 

to the states concerned to submit information to the commission that would not be examined by the commission for 

the time being. These actions, as expected, have not been 

answered by states that do not recognize territorial claims 

or that assert a basis of claim in Antarctica.

Thus, rivalry over the legal status of Antarctica is still 

present and very much alive. The success of any negotiations on a minerals regime, if any, for Antarctica will depend on whether appropriate lessons are drawn from the 

positive and negative experiences in negotiating CRAMRA.
INTRODUCTION

As a philosopher and historian of science it strikes me how two mutually opposite kinds of retrospective accounts of the emergence of the Antarctic Treaty 

have evolved. There is the naive view, according to which the International 

Geophysical Year (IGY) and the Antarctic Treat (AT) simply succeeded because 

politics was entirely set to one side. And there is the cynical view, according to 

which both the IGY and the advent of the AT were a matter of politics all the 

way. Both of these views are untenable. Instead, I want to argue for a critical 

realist perspective that focuses on both the science and its geopolitical context.

THE DUAL FUNCTION OF SCIENCE 

IN THE ANTARCTIC TREATY

As cold war archives have opened, recent scholarship has shown that there 

was a great deal more politics behind the scenes than we were previously told. 

However, on some basic issues differences were successfully set aside or frozen, 

and fundamental principles were agreed upon: the question of claims (sovereign 

neutrality), the question of carrying out atomic tests (prohibited), demilitarization, and the use of science as a criterion for full participation in the management regime that was set up. It was not because of the application of altruism 

that this was possible. On the contrary, national interests and agendas were still 

there, but the extreme cost of the alternative, perpetuating conflict, was too 

great. Thus, realism, pragmatism, and willingness to compromise on the basis 

of mutual benefit were the effective principles at work.

The AT involves a mechanism of inclusion/exclusion based on scientific performance. Performing substantial scientific research as an entry ticket for new 

countries to manifest their presence and participate in the management of the 

Antarctic continent’s future is key. I call this the sublimation of politics in science. Science has a dual function, both advancing new knowledge and manifesting a country’s serious interest and presence. Politics in this context is not a 

bad thing, but rather a good thing, an incentive to do good research that will, 

Origin and Limitations of the 

Antarctic Treaty

Aant Elzinga

Aant Elzinga, Department of Philosophy, 

Linguistics and Theory of Science, University 

of Gothenburg, Box 200, SE-405 30 Gothenburg, Sweden. Correspondence: Aant.Elzinga@

theorysc.gu.se.
6 0 • science diplomacy

in turn, give a country clout at the decision-making table. 

The success of the AT lies in the fact that it gave science 

a dual function, including its status as a kind of symbolic 

capital in a political arena, an arm’s-length function that 

reinforced rather than undermined the multinational intergovernmental political management regime.

THREE PRINCIPLES OF 

SCIENTIFIC INTERNATIONALISM

Even though the science criterion has become more 

flexible with time, a challenge for the future is still the 

question of internationalism—how far and what kind. In 

this respect, three dimensions of internationalism can be 

distinguished.

1. The epistemological, or knowledge, principle states 

that truth knows no boundaries and scientific results 

belong to all. This is also called the principle of universality. One way to operationalize it is to measure the 

frequency of multiauthor, multinational publications to 

see if this has increased over time and to what extent 

nontreaty countries are represented.

2. The organizational principle pertains to the need to cooperate and exchange results. Division of labor helps 

prevent costly and unnecessary duplication. It is also a 

matter of what the sociologist of science Robert Merton called the need for “organized skepticism,” what 

we today call peer review, to enhance the quality of research and its results. One can furthermore distinguish 

a scale of cooperation ranging from simply multilateral 

coordination of efforts to actual cooperation and, further, to close multinational collaboration in projects 

and at research stations.

3. The welfare principle involves solidarity and the application of the fruits of science for the benefit of all humankind, including the distribution of its goods. Joseph 

Needham, the first science director of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization 

(UNESCO) called it the periphery principle. He had in 

mind the dissemination of science from its world centers to the peripheries in the third world. Julian Huxley, 

the first director general of UNESCO, used it to argue 

for organizing Antarctic research within an international institute (see Elzinga and Landström, 1996).

When it comes to the epistemological principle, the 

AT does quite well. Regarding the second principle, it has 

been unable to live up to the ideals already expressed in 

the statutes of the International Polar Commission (IPC) of 

1908, which Lüdecke (this volume) considers an important 

episode in the history of Antarctic research and exploration. Representatives of 12 countries (but not the United 

Kingdom, Germany, and Norway)1

 agreed to establish 

closer relations between polar explorers; to standardize 

methods of observation in key fields; to cooperate in the 

discussion and interpretation of results; to provide advice 

and assistance to new polar enterprises, with emphasis on 

scientific criteria; and to provide for the need for continuity in activities by, for example, introducing research 

bases for a five-year period, with rotation of participating researchers who might come from different countries. 

This far-reaching ideal of internationalism and planning 

was eclipsed by World War I and the cold war in science 

that followed when, under the auspices of the then newly 

established International Research Council (IRC), the victor countries boycotted research communities in Germany, 

Austria, the Soviet Union, and some other countries, a 

situation that only changed (in part) when the IRC was 

replaced by the International Council of Scientific Unions 

(ICSU) in 1931.

When the idea of setting up the Special Committee 

on Antarctic Research (SCAR) emerged in 1957 and was 

implemented the following year, several countries were, 

at first, opposed to or dubious concerning a strong internationalist thrust in this context; not least, the Australian 

government objected because it felt this might lead to acts 

of occupancy on its claimed territory.2

 This concern is evident, for example, in the actions of Keith Bullen, a seismologist at the University of Sydney who attended SCAR’s 

constitutional meeting in The Hague and was elected its 

vice-president. On his return to Australia he reported back 

to government officials that in line with Australian policy, 

he had succeeded in getting a clause that had proposed that 

SCAR should directly organize the whole scientific program in Antarctica removed from the draft SCAR constitution. Thus, SCAR shied away from the kind of dirigiste 

approach to cooperation in science that Henryk Arctowski 

had advocated for in the old IPC in 1906. In 1958–1959 it 

was, however, more than just a research management principle that was at issue, it was a matter of politics.

With respect to the welfare principle in internationalism, the AT still has some way to go. Two alternatives to 

the AT have been suggested; one is the notion of Antarctica 

as part of the heritage of humankind, from which stems 

the idea that it should be placed under the auspices of the 

United Nations. The other is the notion of Antarctica as a 

world natural park, an idea proposed by international environmentalist nongovernmental organizations. Both of these 
ELZINGA / LIMITATIONS OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 6 1

concepts have been unsuccessful, but they have contributed 

to some accommodation of the AT to broader internationalist and environmental conservation principles. In light of 

these changes it appears that the most viable road for continued and farther-reaching internationalism should involve 

the introduction of international research stations. This 

point is briefly discussed at the end of this paper.

THE DECISION NOT TO LET THE COLD WAR 

SPILL OVER INTO ANTARCTICA

Regarding the negotiations prior to the signing of the 

AT, first, 60 secret meetings were held, and then the formal 

conference opened in October 1959, culminating in the 

signing of the treaty on 1 December. The process was not 

an easy one. As Ambassador Oscar Pinochet de la Barra 

recalled at the symposium “On the Future of the Antarctic Treaty” held in Ushuaia, Argentina, on 20–24 March 

1995, “some delegates were in favour of freedom of science, others were against it; some supported the freezing 

of sovereignty, some did not; some wanted a treaty for 30 

years, others a more permanent treaty; some said yes and 

some said no to observers; and so on” (Jackson, 1995:9).

It is a pity that so little is known about the role of 

the Soviet Union and that so few Russian participants 

attended the conference on which this volume is based. 

Russian accounts of the process (e.g., that of Yuri M. 

Rybakov at the 25th anniversary of the treaty during the 

Beardmore conference in Antarctica, 1985) maintain that 

the Soviets pushed to keep atomic tests out of Antarctica 

and that there were some parties that wanted to allow for 

experimentation with “non-military atomic blasts” provided prior forewarning was given; of course, it was difficult to draw a line between military and civilian “blasts.” 

(see Rybakov’s comments in Polar Research Board report, 

1986). It would be useful to know more about this topic.

It is clear that it was ultimately the attitudes, insights, 

and mutual understanding between the two superpowers 

that was very important to the decision not to let the cold 

war spill over into the Antarctic. This understanding was 

not an expression of altruism but rather an expression of 

hardheaded realpolitik with mutual benefit and pragmatic 

considerations as a guiding principle.

THE IMMEDIATE POST-IGY PERIOD

In many recent periodizations of the history of Antarctic exploration and research the IGY 1957/1958 marks 

a definitive benchmark. Pre-IGY periods are depicted as 

ones of conflict and tension between countries with political and economic interests in Antarctica, whereas the 

post-IGY era is mostly portrayed as one of harmony, one 

where science is able to flourish. This portrayal is also a 

misconception.

Once the Antarctic Treaty was in place, national interests and rivalries still existed when it came to advancing 

research projects because by and of itself, the science, or 

the basic research motive, is not enough to establish new 

forms of large-scale multinational collaboration within the 

ATS framework. More often than not, a definitive political 

will on the part of the participating countries, along with 

the possibility of significant mutual benefit at economic 

and political levels, is needed. The role of leading (hybrid) 

scientific personalities who might act as champions for 

specific projects with transnational and transdisciplinary 

collaboration is also important. It may be instructive to 

consider a visionary proposal for European research collaboration in Antarctica that arose in the early 1970s; ultimately, this proposal failed because even if the will was 

there in relevant scientific communities, other factors controlled by decision makers at several political levels constituted hindrances.

Generally speaking, in the decade after IGY at least 

four related factors converged to raise interest in European scientific collaboration in the Antarctic. First, new 

technological developments made it possible to pursue 

new research agendas. Second, there was a shift from description and observation to an interest in explaining processes, such as changes in the mass balance of glacial ice 

sheets. Third, an epistemic differentiation took place on 

the disciplinary landscape within the sciences, with glaciology becoming more prominent. Fourth, mission orientation of science in the wake of reformulations of economic 

and environmental motives for research was also important, allowing glaciology to play a special role in advancing the understanding of environmental change.3

THE EUROPEAN ANTARCTIC PROJECT 

OF THE 1970s: A VISIONARY 

COLLABORATIVE PROJECT

In the early 1970s, several new international research 

programs were underway (for details and references pertinent to the European Antarctic Project [EAP], see Elzinga, 

2009a, and also Stauffer, 2009; for details on the policies 

of the Netherlands, Belgium, and Germany during 1957–

1990, see Abbink, 2009). In May 1969 the United States, 
6 2 • science diplomacy

Soviet Union, Australia, and France joined together in the 

International Antarctic Glaciological Programme (IAGP; 

with the United Kingdom joining 1972), focusing on East 

Antarctica, e.g., the Vostok ice dome. In 1970 an ad hoc 

group within SCAR led by glaciologist J. H. Zumberge 

set up the Ross Ice Shelf Project (RISP), and later, the 

Filchner-Ronne Ice Shelf Project (FRISP) was set up, which 

involved Germany, the United Kingdom, the Soviet Union, 

and the United States.

The Glaciology of the Antarctic Peninsula project, 

involving the United Kingdom, Argentina, Chile, and the 

United States, emerged in 1973 out of a symposium at the 

Scott Polar Research Institute in Cambridge where airborne radio echo sounding and isotope analysis of ice cores 

were discussed. Throughout the 1970s, there were significant efforts to standardize methods in glaciology, with the 

IAGP producing comprehensive standardization guidelines 

endorsed by SCAR in 1972 for measuring along traverse 

lines and taking geophysical measurements, including 

radar, seismic refraction profiles, magnetic profiling, physical and chemical properties of ice, traces of radioactivity. It 

is in this context that the significance of the idea of a joint 

European glaciological project may be appreciated.

Initially, the idea for the EAP came up during the 

SCAR meeting and symposium on Earth sciences held in 

Oslo in 1970. At that meeting there was discussion not 

only on geology and mineral deposits but also on the 

question of environmental change, which might have left 

traces in the archive of the Antarctic ice sheet. Tony van 

Autenboer and Hugo Decleir, two veterans of the Belgian 

IGY expedition to Antarctica, sounded the idea for the 

EAP out with a French researcher, Jacques Nougier, who 

suggested the Council of Europe (CoE; created in 1949) 

might be interested. This discussion led to a preliminary 

meeting hosted in Brussels (3 November 1970), chaired by 

Baron Gaston de Gerlache Gomery, who later became the 

chairman of the “bureau” of a European working group 

for polar research under the auspices of the Committee on 

Science and Technology (CST) of the CoE. At the time, it 

was noted how only two European countries maintained 

permanent research stations in Antarctica (France and the 

United Kingdom) and that three other countries (Norway, 

Belgium, and the Netherlands) had a constant interest but 

only intermittent activity. West Germany, Italy, Sweden, 

and Switzerland also expressed interests (for more detail, 

see Stauffer, 2009).

Increasing sophistication of research and prohibitive 

costs of logistic and technical support had made it virtually impossible for smaller countries to maintain a permanent effort except as part of a joint European effort. When 

articulated, the concept was soon linked to environmental interests. A central task was ice core drilling to facilitate studies of past climate change and to predict future 

change, including the influence of human activities, much 

along the lines of the European Project for Ice Coring in 

Antarctica (EPICA) 20 years later.

Such a project, it was decided, might play an important 

role in providing several additional countries with the possibility of participating in and developing what “would represent a spectacular and significant manifestation of l’esprit 

européen.”(Nougier et al., 1971: 115). With travel and 

hospitality costs funded by the European Council’s CST, 

the Working Party for European Polar Research (WPEPR), 

consisting of scientists plus a CST representative, held at 

least 16 meeting in various European cities from 1970 to 

1974, with the most intensity in Paris from the autumn of 

1972 to the spring of 1973. A draft report was widely circulated. The scientific concept that evolved concentrated on 

deep drilling, first and foremost in what appears to be the 

area of present-day Dome Fuji on Dronning Maud Land. 

Drilling was to be supplemented by several traverses along 

three types of lines, namely, glacial ice flow lines, dividing 

lines between major ice field regions, and lines following 

2500 m elevation contours. In addition, the plan called for 

drilling on the ice shelf, a geodetic program, and a radio 

echo program. Operations were to be during the austral 

summer seasons over a period of five years.

SCIENTIFIC CHALLENGES AND PRACTICAL 

HINDRANCES ASSOCIATED WITH 

THE EAP OF THE 1970s

At the first Paris meeting (1971) of the European 

polar working group, glaciologists Claude Lorius and 

Hans Oeschger emphasized the importance of the climatic 

environment in the world as a factor affecting human life, 

pointing to the great significance of the Antarctic venture 

in this context, an argument that made an impact at the 

CoE. However, intergovernmental consensus was not 

forthcoming. The main obstacles were the great expense 

and a failure to come to an agreement with regard to the 

project’s managerial structure and the financial formula 

for sharing the cost between participating countries. The 

problem was the larger countries.

Having decided to join the IAGP, the United Kingdom 

withdrew from the EAP effort by June of 1972, saying that 

it was prepared to help but did not want to be an official partner since partnership entailed costs that would cut 

severely into the normal operating budget of the British 
ELZINGA / LIMITATIONS OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 6 3

Antarctic Survey. The United Kingdom also committed 

itself to a program for the Glaciology of the Antarctic 

Peninsula, a venture that was politically more important 

since it covered the region of British Antarctic territorial 

claims. Furthermore, the Scott Polar Research Institute had 

become heavily involved in a very fruitful collaborative 

effort with U.S. scientists and Danish radio engineers in 

pioneering activities to successively map bedrock profiles 

under the Antarctic ice sheet over vast areas of the continent using airborne radio echo techniques (radioglaciology, as it was also called in some scientific and engineering 

circles at the time; see Dean et al., 2008). For this effort, 

the U.S. Navy provided the planes and logistical support, 

and the National Science Foundation in Washington, D.C., 

was responsible for a major portion of the funding. Collaboration with the United States proved to be simpler and 

cheaper while yielding substantial scientific payoff.

The West German delegate to the EAP working group 

meetings, Walther Hofmann, had his sights set upon an 

expedition to Greenland and succeeded in getting his government to vote against a joint European Antarctic endeavor. Thus, the $3 million it was hoped Germany would 

contribute also disappeared. France, on the other hand, 

became all the more adamant as the rightful defender of 

the European standard. Representatives of smaller countries like Belgium worked hard to revamp the project and, 

in response to a request in 1974 by the CoE (before a final 

decision in 1975), scaled it down to a more acceptable 

level of costs by extending the time frame from five to 

seven years.

DIFFERENCES OVER PRIORITIES AND RIVAL 

MODELS OF SCIENTIFIC COOPERATION

It was not only the high cost that constituted a stumbling block. There were also technological difficulties. 

First, at the time, technology for ice core drilling had not 

yet been sufficiently developed to meet the requirements 

of deep drilling at temperatures below –40°C. Second, for 

logistics purposes in the earlier plan there was a need for 

a large ski-equipped transport aircraft of the CL-130 type, 

something only the U.S. Navy possessed.

Some delegates argued that the EAP should be converted to participation in the IAGP instead since there the 

two superpowers supplied long-distance logistics. French 

scientists put a lot of energy into trying to shape up the 

original plan of 1972 to make it acceptable. The West 

German representative, Walther Hofmann, was particularly strongly opposed to the French rationalist top-down 

approach. A professor in geodesy who had experience 

from Greenland, he was, moreover, not interested in Antarctica and pushed for a project on Greenland instead, arguing that it was much closer and less costly, in which case 

the United States might even be relied on for long-distance 

transport of equipment.

In opposition to the French “integrated” model, Hofmann introduced an à la carte model of financing and 

management according to which each country would be 

responsible on both counts for only a part or parts of the 

scientific program. His motivation was that it could not 

be expected that national institutions and funding bodies 

“promote the means of research work which is carried out 

and exploited by other countries.” (CoE, 1972:2). Largecountry chauvinism thus ended up undermining the whole 

enterprise. Van Autenboer’s conclusion, in retrospect, is 

that the greatest fault all along lay in the failure to do the 

extensive political groundwork needed for a project like 

the EAP. Also, the role of individual personalities and their 

interests proved to be important. Hofmann, for example, 

turned out to be the wrong man for the role of “delegate” 

on behalf of West Germany (Van Autenboer in an interview with Peter Abbink; see Abbink, 2009).

POLITICAL GROUNDWORK IN THE 

1970s AS A BOON TO EPICA

Despite a good scientific program and a constructive 

approach to logistics the plan for the EAP came to naught 

and was abandoned in 1975. The CoE was relieved when 

Norway offered to finance a European pilot study on 

Spitsbergen before anything else was done. Substantial 

parts of the scientific program that was developed did, 

however, find their way into other international programs. 

When EPICA came into being, it was largely thanks to 

much better political groundwork and the fact that two of 

its major champions, Gotthilf Hempel of West Germany 

and Claude Lorius of France, acted in unison at the Grand 

Challenges conference in Bremen in September 1994.

Since little has been written about how the political 

groundwork for EPICA was prepared, I will provide further detail on this point. The experience in ice core drilling accumulated by European scientists both in Greenland 

and Antarctica by the early 1990s warranted a return to 

the old idea of an all-European joint venture in Antarctica. 

The situation by then was completely different compared 

to that in the early 1970s when the plan for the EAP had 

to be abandoned. As Heinz Miller related, a new Antarctic 

project “was already there in our heads before we started 
6 4 • science diplomacy

drilling in Greenland.”4 The scientific arguments for a 

major Antarctic ice coring program were strong. To avoid 

the mistake made with the EAP in the early 1970s, leading scientists worked hard to anchor the idea politically. 

A number of contemporary events converged to make 

it easier. Within the ICSU the International GeosphereBiosphere Programme (IGBP) was initiated in 1986, and 

it soon identified one of its themes as “documenting and 

predicting climate change.” Within the UN framework the 

idea of an Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change 

was implemented in 1988. European scientists were centrally involved in both of these developments. Paleoclimatology based on data from ice cores was important. The 

Greenland Ice Core Project (GRIP; and the Vostok effort 

in Antarctica) demonstrated that European expertise in ice 

core studies was excellent, logistics efficient, and collaboration good. According to reliable assessments, GRIP with its 

smaller drill and core (4-inch diameter) gave a much better 

scientific payback per unit cost investment than the core (6-

inch diameter) brought up by the U.S. group with its larger 

and much heavier drill within Greenland Ice Sheet Project 

2 (GISP2).5

 The “Antarctic Science–Global Concerns” conference hosted by SCAR in Bremen in 1991 helped bring 

polar researchers more closely into harmony with the international research programs on global climate change.6

 The 

linkages with pertinent international programs helped the 

paleoclimatic community establish credentials when they 

made their case in their respective countries for a new collaborative ice coring effort on a grander scale.

Generally, some form of institutionalization is invaluable for large-scale projects in order to gain network 

stability, ensuring better continuity over time. At the European level this occurred with the creation of the European Committee for Ocean and Polar Science (ECOPS) 

in 1990 as a liaison (existing for five years) between the 

European Science Foundation and the European Commission’s (EC) Directorate General XII (for Science) (DG XII), 

constituted as an ad hoc joint scientific advisory body at 

arm’s-length from politics.7 Two important functions were 

served. First, as a hybrid forum of scientists and policy 

makers ECOPS became a vehicle for science diplomacy at 

national and intergovernmental levels. Second, the hybrid 

forum provided a neutral space where visions and project 

ideas could be articulated, tested, and gain purchase in the 

worlds of science and politics simultaneously, allowing for 

a coproduction of new scientific and political orders.

The ECOPS’s influence lay in suggesting and promoting big science projects, immensely helped by the fact that 

it was an ad hoc committee and had a very dynamic chairman, Gotthilf Hempel, who knew how to cut red tape and 

lobby politicians. As the committee was ad hoc, Hempel had 

the mandate to select the committee members via national 

representative bodies in different countries. Thus, ECOPS 

could operate quite freely and flexibly as a group of “wise 

men.” It acted from the top down in identifying themes 

and sketching possible approaches to large-scale European 

projects and then elicited bottom-up input from scientific 

communities by broad consultations through workshops to 

develop special programs and networks around them. The 

very first workshop (1990) related to the ECOPS Grand 

Challenges thrust was on Antarctic ice cores.8

Still, EC politicians and bureaucrats were not immediately won over. In the very first round when a first phase 

for EPICA was proposed to the EC DG XII in January 

1992, it was rejected. The proposal was met with the argument that Europe is far away from and has nothing to 

do with Antarctica. Resistance hinged particularly on the 

extreme cost of the project, 8 million Ecu (European Currency Unit, now called Euro), which was a large amount 

and would eat into the potential budgets of other areas 

of European science, for example, oceanography, where 

there were also plans for new projects. The oceanographic 

research community was older, better established, and 

strong in Europe. Thus, EPICA had quite a number of 

opponents and doubtful friends in the beginning, at least 

when it came to proceeding from vision to action.

Hempel himself, being an ocean scientist, was at first 

not in favor of EPICA, but once he came around, he became a strong supporter. Although more or less neutral 

concerning the four suggested grand challenge projects, 

his response to the bureaucratic inertia within the EC was 

important. Further lobbying occurred during the course 

of the European Ocean and Polar Science symposium he 

organized in Obernai, France, in October 1992. At that 

symposium ECOPS met with about 50 chief administrators and scientists of national funding bodies, and a new 

draft proposal for EPICA was also presented to the EC. 

The timing was good. It followed the UN conference in 

Rio that marked an important turning point at the political level. The idea of global change began to take hold 

with politicians, and countries needed to show that they 

took it seriously. The GRIP results were coming in, research in Antarctica gained media coverage, and it became 

clear that uncertainties pertaining to climate change might 

be reduced by further work on ice cores. Moreover, EPICA 

promised a much longer time series than what was available from Greenland. A new deep core from Antarctica 

was needed because the old Vostok one had a different 

resolution; it was different and lower, making it unreliable 

to compare with the Greenland ice cores. In fact, two new 
ELZINGA / LIMITATIONS OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 6 5

Antarctic cores were projected, one from Dome C, where 

the bottom ice would be very old, and one with a higher 

resolution and reflecting the influence of the Atlantic sector, obtainable in the Dronning Maud Land sector, where 

snow accumulation is much higher than at Dome C. For 

the implementation of EPICA the European conference 

Ice-Sheet-Climate Interaction in 1993 was also very important, laying the groundwork for a breakthrough a year 

later in Bremen.

The ECOPS continued to flesh out four major projects. 

When summarized at the Grand Challenges conference in 

1994 (Bremen) organized by the Alfred Wegener Institute 

(AWI), EPICA stood out as an absolute winner, a model 

project, well anchored in relevant scientific communities 

and politically opportune for Europe in the period after 

Rio. The enthusiasm, scientific prowess, personal persistence, and diplomatic skills of a few leading scientists had 

paid off: Claude Lorius, the eminent glaciologist of Antarctic Vostok core fame; David Drewry, a leading personality at the British Antarctic Survey; and Gotthilf Hempel, 

then head of AWI, the man with the political acumen. 

Resistance still came from the oceanographic community, 

which had their own grand challenge project competing 

for extraordinary funding. Years of networking activities orchestrated by EPICA’s leading scientists, however, 

were now revealed to have been instrumental in fostering 

the bottom-up process of enrollment through the earlier 

series of European workshops and conferences. The relevant research communities stood sufficiently united, and 

policy support was forthcoming around a long-term commitment to deep coring in Antarctica. The process was 

aided by coincidence with specific conjunctures in the upsurge of the global change issue together with integration 

with existing international research programs, along with 

other ones stemming from activities under the auspices of 

SCAR. This concurrence, in turn, made it easier for scientists in the various countries involved to obtain funding 

from their respective national science councils.

Ultimately, then, changing conjunctures in geopolitics 

can make or break possible implementation of such collaboration in any individual case. This is a lesson that has to be 

remembered and viewed in the long-term perspective of the 

institutionalization of Antarctic polar research. In the long 

term, one should also not forget that there is always the possibility in future that the Antarctic Treaty will meet strong 

challenges in the event that forces of economic globalization 

press for exploitation of Antarctic mineral resources.

At present, the Madrid Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (and therewith as 

moratorium on minerals prospecting) is in place. The 

protocol replaced (and incorporated important elements 

of) CRAMRA, which momentarily existed—on paper—in 

1988–1989 after eight years of negotiations but was never 

ratified. Currently, interest in gas and oil in the seabed is 

concentrated on the Arctic region, where the melting of 

ice in tandem with climate change has triggered a lot of 

scientific activity linked to Arctic rim countries’ efforts 

to get a better picture of the lay of the continental shelf 

and the Lomonosov Ridge (among others) to make a case 

for extending their seabed territories, claims that will be 

reviewed by the Continental Shelf Commission (CSC) of 

UNCLOS. Looking 30 years into the future, with continued economic globalization and an entirely new generation of technologies being developed, one should not 

be entirely surprised if strong stakeholder interests try to 

push the situation in the Antarctic and its surrounding 

oceans in a similar direction.

IMPORTANCE OF COINCIDENCE BETWEEN 

POLITICAL AND SCIENTIFIC AGENDAS

In view of the examples above, of the failed European 

Antarctic Project of the 1970s and the later success of 

EPICA in the 1990s and also the present quest for minerals exploitation in the Arctic, there are definite historical 

lessons to be drawn. The historical record suggests that as 

long as Antarctic research does not represent a political 

threat, either in content, organization, or logistical support systems, researchers will have complete freedom of 

choice in the selection of topics, choice of collaborators, 

and modes of evaluating results. If, on the other hand, the 

primary interests of governments, politicians, or high-level 

(leading scientists or hybrid) civil servants become threatened, conditions of cooperation will degenerate. Whether 

or not research facilitates international cooperation in 

real terms or only symbolically will depend on the context, vested interests, and political conjunctures. When it 

works, we see science as the continuation of politics by 

other means; in the case at hand, it is in and through the 

IGY and the ATS regime that followed it. To a large extent, knowledge interests of scientists and the symbolicinstrumental interests of politicians have been more or less 

convergent in Antarctica, which is what made the IGY 

and the ATS regime that followed it possible in the first 

place. This convergence was possible because of some very 

special geopolitical conditions combined with new technological capabilities in the 1950s.

In the Antarctic, because of the treaty, which suspends 

territorial claims and makes science the ticket into the club 
6 6 • science diplomacy

of decision makers, research continued to represent a form 

of symbolic capital. There was/is a special kind of tradeoff with politicians whereby scientists are provided with 

funds to do research, but in doing this research they also 

perform a political task, advancing the national interest 

of their own country in a geographical arena. In doing so, 

they can influence the growth of science. Crudely put, one 

might say that politicians in the major nations after the 

advent of the AT did not need to worry so much about the 

kind of work their scientists do, as long as they were there 

in Antarctica and could show a “significant performance 

of research.” The symbolic value lies primarily in the very 

presence of a country’s scientists in this cold continent, but 

of course, international recognition of high-quality scientific effort enhances the symbolic value of a country’s research on the political arena. Probably, with time the latter 

aspect became more important, but then again, this varied 

from one country to another depending on the prevailing 

political climate, the national science policy doctrine, and 

overriding institutional motives. In some cases a country 

might desire to join or use its presence in the club to influence the course of international science.

Sometimes the rhetorical import of research activities 

may be more important to politicians than their actual scientific value. This means not only that projects that are 

poor from a scientific point of view get endorsed or that 

the siting of new research stations is based on expediency 

and the political need to demonstrate a presence (hence 

the location of so many stations on King George Island, 

which was easily accessible for new players) but also that 

scientifically interesting projects and plans for multinational collaboration on a scientific basis get frustrated and 

are unable to proceed. Thus, the image of letting the scientists more or less follow their own agenda (and hence 

natural prominence of good-quality basic research) does 

not always run true.

INTERNATIONAL RESEARCH STATIONS: 

A SCENARIO OF THE FUTURE?

In principle, once the Antarctic Treaty was in place, 

there is no reason why, theoretically, nations might not 

get together to create an international research station, 

flying the flag of SCAR or perhaps UNESCO in place 

of a national flag. In practice, of course, such an international station would probably once again open up the 

issue of sovereignty, both between and within the nations 

involved. In other cases of multinational European collaboration in science one finds that under certain conditions 

such collaboration under a common “European” flag is 

possible. Two examples are nuclear research (European 

Organization for Nuclear Research, CERN) and astronomy (the European Southern Observatory, ESO, in Chile).

For future research into the history of science it is 

interesting to clearly identify the factors that made possible far-reaching collaboration in nuclear physics and 

astronomy but were not present in the 1970s in Antarctic science. Comparisons with the peaceful uses of atomic 

energy and collaboration in astronomy are particularly 

instructive if one is interested in teasing out the limits of 

internationalism and the institutional motives at play behind scientific efforts.

To summarize, first, it is clear that science during the 

IGY played an important role as a mutual confidencebuilding measure. Second, the incrementalist character of 

the treaty, with the possibility of layering one agreement, 

convention, or protocol over the next, leading to a whole 

network of imperatives by which participating parties are 

bound, has been important. Third, the flexibility built into 

the treaty, allowing for interpretative flexibility of basic 

concepts in its institutional architecture, for example, the 

science criterion, is significant. At the same time, for the 

future this criterion will require further reinterpretation in 

what some scholars call the postcolonial era. The challenge 

is to find ways and means of further broadening participation of additional countries in Antarctic research and policy 

making in line with a more robust form of internationalism.

NOTES

1. Norway and Britain particularly benefitted from the whaling 

industry that took off in 1905 and brought great wealth to private entrepreneurs and their national treasuries. In science today, we speak of 

investing 3% of a country’s Gross National Product into research and 

development; if 3% of the profits (a kind of proscience tax) from the 

lucrative and ecologically questionable whaling industry had been put 

into Antarctic polar science, continuity in research might have evolved 

in an entirely different manner than what actually happened. When contemplating the gap between internationalism in words and in deeds, it is 

sometimes instructive to think counterfactually in this way.

2. The idea was discussed at an ad hoc conference under the auspices of the International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU) held in 

Stockholm on 9–11 September 1959. The Swedish glaciologist Valter 

Schytt, who had been a member of the Norwegian-British-Swedish Expedition to Dronning Maud Land in 1949–1952, served as secretary of the 

conference and became the first secretary of the Special Committee on 

Antarctic Research (SCAR; later called the Scientific Committee), doing 

a lot of the preparatory work. His diary (Schytt, 1957–1958), covering 

incoming and outgoing letters to the conference organizers in Stockholm, 

and the first draft of SCAR’s statutes for the organization’s constitutional 

meeting in The Hague on 3–5 February 1958 bear witness to a distinctive 
ELZINGA / LIMITATIONS OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 6 7

internationalist spirit that was subsequently somewhat tempered by political realities of the time. See also Elzinga (2007).

3. For a historical review of changes in the conditions of research, 

its goals, and epistemological “style” during the course of four international polar years from 1882–1883 to 2007–2009, see Elzinga (2009b).

4. Heinz Miller, AWI, Germany, interview by Carsten Krueck (of 

the Science and Technology Studies Department at the University of 

Bielefeld, Germany), 2 November 1998.

5. Bernhard Stauffer, Climate and Environment Physics, Physics Institute, University of Bern, Bern, Switzerland, interview by the author, 

26 August 1998.

6. Hempel (1995). An important outcome of the conference was the 

creation of the Group of Specialists on Global Change and the Antarctic 

(GLOCHANT), which, in turn, spawned a long-term project with six 

core projects, one of them on paleoenvironmental records from ice sheets 

and marine and land sediments.

7. Ibb Troen and Klaus Bruening, European Commission Directorate General XII, Brussels, Belgium, interview by Carsten Krueck and 

Jutta Borchers (affiliation as above in note 4), 9 June 1998.

8. It was organized by Claude Lorius and held in Grenoble, France, 

29–31 October 1990; “Modelling of Dynamics of Large Polar Ice Sheets” 

was the name of another workshop, one organized by David Drewry and 

C. Doake in Cambridge, 29 April to 1 May 1991.

LITERATURE CITED

Abbink, P. 2009. Antarctic Policymaking and Science in the Netherlands, 

Belgium and Germany (1957–1990). Circumpolar Studies 6. Groningen, Netherlands: Arctic Centre.

CoE (Council of Europe). 1972. Science and Technology Committee. 

Minutes of the Study Group on Glaciology, June 1972 (for specific 

archival details see Abbink, 2009 and Stauffer, 2009).

Dean, K., S. Naylor, and M. Siegert. 2008. Data in Antarctic Science and 

Politics. Social Studies of Science, 38(4):571–604.

Elzinga, A. 2007. “Swedish Non-participation in the Antarctic Leg of 

IGY 1957/58.” In Steps of Foundation of Institutionalized Antarctic Research: Proceedings of the 1st SCAR Workshop on the History 

of Antarctic Research, ed. C. Lüdecke, pp. 142–162. Berichte zur 

Polar- und Meeresforschung 250. Bremerhaven, Germany: AlfredWegener-Institut für Polar- und Meeresforschung. http://epic.awi

.de/Publications/Lde2007b.pdf (accessed 22 June 2010).

———. 2009a. “Geopolitics, Science and Internationalism—The Cases 

of CERN, ESO and EAP (a Failed European Antarctic Project).” In

2nd SCAR Workshop on the History of Antarctic Research. Boletín 

Antárctico Chileno. Punte Arenas: Chilean Antarctic Institute (Instituto Antártico Chileno–INACH) http://www.inach.cl/InachWebNeo/

Controls/Neochannels/Neo_CH6139/deploy/boletinhistorico.pdf accessed 22 June 2010).

———. 2009b. Through the Lens of the Polar Years: Changing Characteristics of Polar Research in Historical Perspective. Polar Record,

45(235):313–326.

Elzinga, A., and C. Landström. 1996. Internationalism and Science. London: Taylor Graham.

Hempel, G. ed. 1995. The Ocean and the Poles: Grand Challenges for 

European Cooperation. Jena and New York: G. Fischer Verlag.

Jackson, A., ed. 1995. On the Antarctic Horizon. Proceedings of the 

International Symposium on the Future of the Antarctic Treaty System. Ushuaia, Argentina 20–24 March 1995. Hobart: Australian 

Antarctic Foundation.

Lüdecke, C. 2011 (this volume). “Parallel Precedents for the Antarctic 

Treaty.” In Science Diplomacy: Antarctica, Science, and the Governance of International Spaces, ed. P. A. Berkman, M. A. Lang, 

D. W. H. Walton, and O. R. Young, pp. 253–263. Washington, 

D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press.

Nougier, J., T. van Autenboer and C. Swithenbank. 1971. “European Antarctic Collaboration”, IUGS Geological Newsletter, 

1971(2);112–116.

Polar Research Board. 1986. Antarctic Treaty System: an Assessment: 

Proceedings of a Workshop held at Beardsmore, South Field Camp, 

Antarctic, January 7–13, 1985. Washington D.C.: National Academy Press.

Schytt, V. 1957–1958. Logbook for SCAR Secretariat. Schytt Archive, 

Swedish Royal Academy of Sciences, Stockholm.

Stauffer, B. 2009. Early Attempts for an European Antarctic Programme 

1970–1974. Polarforschung, 78(3):113–118.

The story of exploration of the polar regions is a fascinating story of 

the role of new knowledge—science—in the evolution of public and 

political consciousness and opportunity regarding the world and its 

resources. The story involves the interplay of the attributes of curiosity, personal ambition, greed, drive for national prestige, and impulse to control 

that are characteristic of human impulses and activities anywhere, but in the 

polar regions they have been manifest in individual actions against a harsh and 

unforgiving natural environment that brings to light successes and failures in 

a dramatic fashion. In the Antarctic, this interplay of forces has led, through a 

number of faltering steps over the last century, to significant recent progress, in 

global human terms, in cooperation and shared responsibility for the management of a portion of the planet and its environment. The evolution of science, 

and its attendant evolution of technology, has been a key factor in achieving this 

progress and in recognising the key role that Antarctica plays in global processes.

The story of the activities and the policies that have led eventually to the 

Antarctic Treaty is also a story of individual persons of strength, determination, 

and perseverance, whose knowledge, ability to make contacts, and influence 

governments has shaped polar history. Each has used the science of the day as a 

tool for diplomacy, used it to develop new paradigms of what is progress, and 

used new knowledge as a force for change in national and public attitudes in 

ways that were not apparent at the time.

The story of the evolving concepts concerning the polar regions is also a 

tale of the interplay between the impulse to explore and to exploit a new region 

or its resources, on the one hand, and to govern and control it, on the other. 

Both these contrasting impulses have used progressive scientific knowledge, or 

the desire for new knowledge, as a tool for their particular ends. The result has 

been that scientific investigation has been an integral part of the exploration and 

development of the polar regions throughout its history. Today, the Antarctic 

Treaty enshrines the twin values of “peace” and “science.”

The history of the growth of these concepts, and the tension between the 

impulses of exploitation and of governance, can in many ways be traced back 

to the Treaty of Tordesillas of 1494, which formalized the papal bull of Pope 

Alexander VI and addressed the competing claims of Spain and Portugal to 

Background and Evolution of Some 

Ideas and Values That Have Led 

to the Antarctic Treaty

Ernest Frederick Roots

Ernest Frederick Roots, Environment Canada, 

6790 East Sooke Road, Sooke, British Columbia V9Z 1A6, Canada. Correspondence: fred

.roots@ec.gc.ca.
7 0 • science diplomacy

exploit and control the wealth they might obtain anywhere in the world through their newly developed technology and navigational science, based on rot-resistant 

ropes, the magnetic compass, and the astrolabe, that enabled them to travel the world oceans. Chinese ships had, 

indeed, roamed throughout the Pacific and beyond nearly 

a century earlier, perhaps into high latitudes, but simply 

as explorers and traders, and there seems to be no evidence that they were interested in governance or control. 

The Treaty of Tordesillas extended from pole to pole and 

granted to Portugal all wealth and territories that were 

“not already under the mandate of a Christian king” east 

of a line west of the Azores Islands and to Spain a similar 

right west of that line. The boundary on the other side of 

the world was not defined. This treaty had a strong influence in spurring northern European nations to explore 

their northern regions in order to bypass the decree laid 

down by the Catholic Church, which impeded their access to the wealth of the Indies and Cathay. This exploration led to long-continuing interest and efforts to discover 

a practical Northeast Passage and a Northwest Passage. 

The northern expertise thus developed served as a basis 

for later actions in southern polar regions. 

An important step, in political terms, in the development of national attitudes toward new territories and the 

ownership of polar regions was taken during the reign 

of Queen Elizabeth I of England when Martin Frobisher, 

on his first voyage to what is now Arctic Canada, after 

his ship had capsized in the mid-Atlantic and lost a mast, 

came to a headland of Baffin Island and named it “Queen 

Elizabeth’s Foreland.” This is the first time that a newly 

discovered land had been named and claimed for a reigning monarch. Queen Elizabeth asked her adviser, the 

polymath John Dee (who also had instructed Frobisher, a 

private citizen, in navigation), to produce an argument for 

her rights to undiscovered and uncontested lands claimed 

in her name. In 1585 Dee presented a document, which 

is still preserved in the British Library, stating the basis 

by which the monarch had legal rights to accept newly 

discovered lands claimed by her citizens “compassing . . . 

even unto the North Pole.” This statement, although it had 

no immediate geographical effect, linked discovery of new 

lands to the claims of expanding empire and undoubtedly 

was an influence in building a continuing interest in Britain in polar exploration. That interest and “right” in due 

course extended to southern polar regions. It led to similar 

or competing intentions and actions by other nations.

At the same time that several nations were developing 

an appetite for competition in discovery of polar territories 

for political or commercial reasons, the progress of science 

was raising questions about natural phenomena that could 

only be answered by observations in the high latitudes. 

Questions about the ocean currents and ice, magnetism, 

astronomical navigation, and the pull of gravity and the 

shape and dimensions of planet Earth were becoming preoccupations in academies of science in several countries, 

and although many of these topics had practical application for navigation, trade, and economy, they were not the 

prerogative of any one country, and new scientific information was exchanged freely across national boundaries. 

Thus, by the eighteenth century, in many countries a difference in orientation developed between the geographical 

institutions, whose polar interests were to a large extent 

focused on discoveries of new lands in the name of the 

exploring country, and the scientific institutions, whose 

aim was to uncover new natural facts, new species, and 

new relationships and make them known regardless of the 

country or countries involved. This difference in attention 

had an influence on the course of subsequent exploration 

in Antarctica and the involvement of different countries 

in subsequent international investigative activities such as 

the International Polar Years, the International Geophysical Year, and the Antarctic Treaty. 

The Royal Society of Britain became a dominant influence in the pursuit of scientific knowledge in polar regions 

in the eighteenth century. After his successful expedition 

to the South Pacific in 1768–1771 to measure the transit 

of the planet Venus in front of the illuminated disc of the 

Sun and thus enable the dimensions of the solar system 

to be more accurately calculated, James Cook was commissioned to determine the existence and position of the 

continent of Antarctica, whose presence had been a persistent feature in myths, stories, and intellectual philosophy 

for many centuries. The name Antarctica had been used 

by Greek cosmologists two thousand years previously for 

the supposed lands opposite on the planet to those in the 

north under the celestial bear Arctos (anti-Arctos = Antarctic). In pursuit of this objective, in 1772–1775 Cook 

went as far south as he could sail his ship and circumnavigated the edge of the ice pack surrounding Antarctica but 

never sighted the continent. 

Just as Cook was returning from his frustrating circumnavigation of Antarctica, in 1775 the Royal Society 

launched the first truly multidisciplinary scientific expedition to the polar regions, “a voyage towards the North-Pole 

to be of service to the promotion of natural knowledge.”1

This expedition, commanded by Constantine Phipps, had 

a genuine international background: the plan had been 

proposed by a French explorer (de Bougainville), and German, Dutch, and Swiss scientists had contributed. A very 
ROOTS / b ACKGROUND AND EVOLUTION • 7 1

large number of observations and experiments were successfully completed. The first substantive information was 

obtained on the depth, chemistry, and currents of the subarctic ocean and on pack ice, marine fauna, magnetism, 

and the aurora; gravity measurements were made that led 

to calculations of the curvature of the Earth, and some 

imaginative but ultimately useless experiments on the 

expansion of materials at low temperatures were carried 

out to determine whether there was a “latitude” effect. 

This was the first truly careful scientific examination of 

the polar regions. It added substantially to world scientific 

knowledge. Yet, except for the fact that the polar bear carries the scientific name Thalacrtos maritimus Phipps, this 

very productive expedition remained unknown or ignored 

in geographical circles and by the public because it did 

not discover, or try to discover, new physical territories for 

national glory. Likewise, the more limited but still important scientific accomplishments of Cook’s Antarctic voyages were submerged or publicly forgotten in the attention 

given to geographic discovery.

However, national ambitions for empire, or the nonnational incentives for new knowledge, can become overridden by commercial and financial opportunities. Cook 

was pessimistic about whether the world would benefit 

from further discoveries in Antarctica, “lands doomed by 

nature to everlasting frigidness,” but he also noted, and recorded, the abundance of seals on the subantarctic islands 

among which he passed.2

 Within a decade of his expedition, commercial sealing was in full swing. By 1804, an 

estimated 100 sealing ships were operating in the subantarctic waters. Some ships reported taking up to 100,000 

seals per season. Most of the ships and their sponsoring 

companies were British or American, but ships from several other countries were involved. Although several of the 

islands had been claimed in the name of a “home” country, 

there was no government control, and the whole Antarctic 

region was considered terra nullis. The sites of exploitation shifted periodically, as ruthless slaughter of seals reduced the local resource in one island area after another to 

unprofitability and the sealers searched for new resources. 

Despite occasional pleas for restraint of indiscriminate 

slaughter in order to maintain the productivity of the resources,3

 uncontrolled exploitation continued. By 1824, 

the sealing frenzy subsided, as the fur seal populations in 

most of the subantarctic islands were nearly exterminated. 

Some taking of elephant seals, for oil, and of small right 

whales with hand-launched harpoons continued. After 

1870, when the explosive harpoon came into use and the 

whales in the Arctic waters, formerly “as numerous as 

carps in a pond.”4 became rare and with the establishment 

of a whaling station on South Georgia in 1904, harvesting of large whales became a principal commercial activity 

in the south polar waters. Then followed another “exploitation explosion.” By 1912–1913 there were 6 land 

stations, 21 floating factory ships, and 62 catcher boats 

collecting nearly 11,000 whales in subantarctic waters; by 

1930–1931 the harvest was 400,000. This high level of 

exploitation continued until and after the Second World 

War. In realization that most of the once-abundant marine mammal resource was inevitably being destroyed, the 

International Whaling Commission was formed in 1946. 

It has had mixed results. One consequence has been the 

polarization of public attitudes and some policies about 

use and conservation of natural resources in polar regions.

During the period of uncontrolled private exploitation 

of resources, scientific interest and the urge to explore the 

undiscovered Antarctica arose at intervals, and governments of several countries took an interest in exploration 

and research. Between 1819 and 1840 eight expeditions, 

sponsored by the governments of Russia, the United 

Kingdom, United States, and France added much to the 

knowledge of the geography of the Antarctic coastline and 

surrounding seas and of the features of its oceanography, 

meteorology, and geophysics. National interests, both 

scientific and commercial and based on country prestige, 

dominated. By the end of the nineteenth century, territorial 

claims were beginning to be recognized by governments, 

and following a precedent in the Arctic, a “national sector” 

concept began to emerge. Progressively, between 1923 and 

1943 governments of seven countries laid formal claims to 

sectors of almost the whole Antarctic continent and parts 

of the surrounding waters, although three of those claims 

overlapped and one “sector” remained unclaimed. 

The challenge to investigate the interior of the Antarctic continent, and specifically to reach the South Pole, 

arose at the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the 

twentieth century, mainly from the ambitions of a few determined individuals, who cultivated a broad public interest that then took on aspects of national rivalry. On 

top of “the race to the pole” was added, in some cases, 

some excellent scientific investigation. But once the pole 

had been reached, interest subsided. A world war followed by a worldwide economic depression meant that 

little attention was paid to polar regions. The declining 

activity in marine mammal exploitation became ostensibly 

the responsibility of the respective governments who now 

claimed territorial sectors, although there was little effective management. The few expeditions to the continent 

between the First and Second World Wars were privately 

organized, although some had government contributions 
7 2 • science diplomacy

(United Kingdom, United States, Norway, Germany), and 

focussed on geographical exploration, including, for the 

first time, aerial mapping.

During the Second World War, the possibility that 

Antarctic and subantarctic territories might be used as havens by enemy interests prompted the United Kingdom, 

France, Australia, Argentina, and Chile to take protective 

measures in areas of their responsibility. Although the reasons for the establishments of stations and patrols on the 

continent and subantarctic islands were political, some of 

the activities made contributions to scientific knowledge. 

They helped to create a new corps of scientists and technicians with polar experience and interest and to develop a 

notion, which had originally been forcefully expounded 

by Karl Weyprecht in the 1880s in connection with the International Polar Year, that scientific knowledge itself was 

a valuable justification for investigation in polar regions. 

In 1945, at the close of the Second World War, a proposal was made by a Swedish scientist, Hans Ahlmann, 

that a purely scientific multidiscipline international research expedition, sponsored jointly by Norway, Sweden, 

and the United Kingdom, be undertaken in the hitherto 

unvisited part of Antarctica, within the sector claimed by 

Norway, part of which had been photographed from the air 

by a German expedition in 1938–1939. The proposal was 

supported by senior scientists and endorsed by institutions 

with polar interests in the three countries concerned. The 

result, after considerable negotiation, was the NorwegianBritish-Swedish Antarctic Expedition, 1949–1952. 

The Norwegian-British-Swedish Antarctic Expedition 

was the first modern, genuinely international scientific 

expedition in the polar regions without territorial pretentions. Scientists from five countries participated The expedition consciously and openly endorsed and demonstrated 

the principles for polar research that had been expressed 

by Weyprecht 70 years previously for the first International Polar Year: that science was not a territory for national possession or international discord, that all nations 

have a role to play in polar research, and that the results of 

polar scientific investigation should be freely shared without discrimination.5

 It prepared the way, in the sense of 

the advantages it demonstrated of political cooperation as 

well as nonnational cooperation between scientific institutions from different countries, for the Third International 

Polar Year, which became the International Geophysical 

Year, 1957–1958, and, in turn, helped set the stage for the 

Antarctic Treaty.

NOTES

1. Minutes, Council of the Royal Society (London), meeting 19 

January 1773. London: The Royal Society Library and Archive. 

2. “Lands doomed by nature to everlasting frigidness and never 

once to feel the warmth of the sun’s rays; such are the lands we have 

discovered, what may we expect those to be which lie more to the south, 

for we may reasonably suppose that we have seen the best as lying most 

to the north, whoever has the resolution and perseverance to clear up this 

point by proceeding farther than I have done, I shall not envy him the 

honour of the discovery but I will be bold to say that the world will not 

be benefitted by it.” The Journal of Captain James Cook, Vol. II, 1776. 

Reprinted 1969 with agenda and corrigenda, ed. R. A. Skelton. Extra 

Series No. 36. 1647 pp. London: The Hakluyt Society. 

3. Capt. James W. Budington (a Connecticut sealer), testimony to 

the US Congress 1892.

4. C. M. Scammon, 1874. The Marine Mammals of the Northwestern Coast of North America. San Francisco: John H. Carmany and Company Publishers. 

5. N. H. deV. Heathcoate, and A. Armitage. 1959. “The First International Polar Year (1882–1883).” In Annals of the International Geophysical Year, Vol. I, pp. 3–302. London: Permagon Press. 
On behalf of my friends, colleagues, and predecessors, please allow 

me to share my sincere gratitude on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty that was signed in Washington, 

D.C., on 1 December 1959.

The government of Japan decided in 1955 to participate in the cooperative 

Antarctic investigations organized during the International Geophysical Year 

(IGY). Among the 12 nations who were conducting Antarctic research at that 

time, Japan was the only one who had been defeated during World War II. We 

also were the only Asian nation with a history of active interest in Antarctica, 

going back to the 1910–1912 expeditions of Nobu Shirase (Shirase, 2011).

The international scientific community and victorious governments warmly 

accepted Japanese collaboration in Antarctic research during the IGY. The station for the first Japanese Antarctic Research Expedition (JARE) was established 

in January 1957 at 69°00S, 39°35E on East Ongul Island, Lützow-Holm Bay, 

East Antarctica, and has been occupied ever since.

I was on the replacement team (JARE-2) on February 1958, and our team 

was forced to abandon 15 Sakhalin sled dogs at the unmanned Syowa Station 

because of the poor sea ice conditions. Upon their 14 January 1959 arrival, the 

JARE-3 team was surprisingly greeted by two of the huskies— Taro and Jiro—

who had survived on their own for 11 months, possibly living on seal dung 

and penguins. I then served as the geomorphologist and dog handler during the 

1960/1961 seasons, working with Taro and Jiro along with the 11 other dogs 

that we brought to Syowa for the winter. Over the years, it has been amazing to 

watch these two sled dogs became heroes in the hearts of the Japanese people 

as symbols of courage and survival, with museum statues and feature movies to 

their credit, awakening a national sense of pride in Antarctic research.

Japan formally abandoned all territorial rights in Antarctica (based on the 

early twentieth century exploration of Shirase) on the occasion of signing the 

Treaty of Peace with Japan on 8 September 1951 in San Francisco. Thus, as a 

nonclaimant nation, Japan contributed to the Antarctic Treaty negotiations in 

Washington, D.C., with Minister T. Shimoda as the first secretary of the Japanese Embassy (Sugihara, 1988).

In 2008–2009, an international team of scientists led by the National Institute of Polar Research participated in JARE-50. Throughout, Japan has been a 

Japan and the Antarctic Treaty 

after World War II

Yoshio Yoshida

Yoshio Yoshida, Japan Polar Research Association, Street/mailing address, Tokyo, Japan, 

Rissho University, Tokyo, Japan, and National 

Institute of Polar Research, Tokyo, Japan. Correspondence: yoyosida@vmail.plala.or.jp.
7 4 • science diplomacy

strong supporter of the Scientific Committee on Antarctic 

Research (SCAR) and the Antarctic Treaty System. For example, Japan hosted the 6th Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Meeting (ATCM) in Tokyo in 1970 and the 18th ATCM in 

Kyoto in 1994 as well as the Special Meetings on Antarctic 

Mineral Resources in 1984 and 1986 in Tokyo. Similarly, 

Japan hosted the SCAR General Assembly in 1968 and 

2000 in Tokyo as well as various SCAR symposia over the 

years (e.g., Yoshida et al., 1991).

Over the past half century, Japanese scientists and the 

general public as well as decision makers have learned 

much about the importance of science as well as international cooperation. I recall the determination of our 

leading scientists and the statesmen who promoted these 

Antarctic research opportunities during a very hard time 

for Japan, only 10 years after the Second World War.

Antarctic research in Japan during the first 50 years of 

the Antarctic Treaty has built bridges of cooperation with 

the world. I hope the experience of Japan will help those 

developing countries that will participate in Antarctic research in the future.

LITERATURE CITED

Shirase, N. and Antarctic Expedition Supporters Association. 2011. 

Antarctica: The Japanese South Polar Expedition of 1910–12. 

Translated from the Japanese by Lara Dagnell and Hilary Shibata. 

Bluntisham: Bluntisham Books and Erskine Press.

Sugihara, S. 1988. Kyokuchi [Polar News], 24(1).

Yoshida, Y., K. Kaminuma, and K. Shiraishi, eds. 1991. Recent Progress in Antarctic Earth Science. Tokyo: National Institute of Polar 

Research.
ABSTRACT. The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR) had its antecedents 

in the Special Committee on Antarctic Research of the International Geophysical Year, and 

thus its establishment in 1958 predates the Antarctic Treaty. As a body of the International 

Council for Science (ICSU, formerly the International Council of Scientific Unions) it is a 

nongovernmental organization, yet it has been intimately linked to the governmental discussions at the Antarctic Treaty since the first Antarctic Treaty meeting in 1961. Its primary 

role has always been to develop and coordinate international scientific research, but it has 

also provided independent advice to Treaty Parties on many scientific and environmental 

questions, initially through national government delegations. Only in 1987 was SCAR itself granted the status of observer and the right to attend Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Meetings (ATCMs) and to submit information and working papers. This paper looks at the 

changing relationship between SCAR and the Treaty Parties, at some of its most important 

science inputs to the ATCM, and at the way SCAR itself has changed. Its earliest input to 

governance was advice on conservation that became the Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora of 1964, and for the first 40 years of the Antarctic 

Treaty, SCAR provided major input on protected areas and protected species, as well as 

environmental impact and monitoring. Its proposals for seal conservation and management 

gave it a specific role in the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals, and its 

Biological Investigations of Marine Antarctic Systems and Stocks (BIOMASS) programme 

laid the foundations for the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living 

Resources (CCAMLR). Its nonpolitical stance has allowed it to provide the only unified 

gazetteer for the Antarctic. The organization of SCAR remained virtually unchanged for 

around 30 years until the logisticians split to form the Council of Managers of National 

Antarctic Programs (COMNAP) in 1989. The organization was languishing, but a major 

review of structure and function changed that in 2000, resulting in the establishment of 

Open Science Conferences, major new international programmes, increased educational 

outreach, and a greater input to the annual Antarctic Treaty meetings, often on controversial subjects like marine acoustics or specially protected species. There are currently 31 full 

members with 4 associate members and 9 ICSU union members.

INTRODUCTION

The International Geophysical Year (1956–1957) was one of the most important international events in the history of twentieth century science. The original 

The Scientific Committee on Antarctic 

Research and the Antarctic Treaty

David W. H. Walton

David W. H. Walton, British Antarctic Survey, 

Natural Environment Research Council, High 

Cross, Madingley Road, Cambridge CB3 0ET, 

UK. Correspondence: dwhw@bas.ac.uk.
7 6 • science diplomacy

idea for this was apparently conceived by a small group of 

physicists led by Lloyd Berkner in the United States and 

Sidney Chapman in the United Kingdom over dinner at the 

house of James van Allen in the spring of 1950 (Belanger, 

2006). The proposal was for a coordinated series of measurements of many key geophysical variables using agreed 

protocols, especially in the polar regions. The proposers 

enlisted the support of the National Academy of Sciences 

and the Royal Society as well as many of their colleagues, 

and the International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU) 

Executive Board rapidly and with enthusiasm endorsed 

the theme when it was proposed in 1951. In response to a 

suggestion by the World Meteorological Organization that 

the polar focus was too narrow, Chapman widened it and 

suggested the International Geophysical Year (IGY) rather 

than just an International Polar Year (Belanger, 2006). 

From its small beginnings it grew initially to involve scientists from 46 countries, but by the time it ended scientists 

from 67 countries were taking part. It was, to a large part, 

modelled on the previous International Polar Years, and it 

was therefore significant that the organizers had declared 

that there were two scientific frontiers that should be attacked: outer space and the Antarctic. Both constituted 

major unknowns at that time, and developments in technology, especially in rocketry, made the scientific prospects 

much more attractive than they had ever been before.

Twelve countries finally decided that they would 

work in the Antarctic. Several (Argentina, Australia, 

Chile, France, and the United Kingdom) already had stations there but intended to augment their work, whereas 

the new countries (Belgium, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), and the United States) all needed to establish 

themselves there. After some arguments the sites for all the 

stations were agreed and the IGY got under way.

It is difficult to imagine 50 years on just how revolutionary this international programme was. The aftermath 

of the Second World War, the expansion of Soviet military 

activities and the spread of communism, and the militarization and aggressive stance of the United States threw a 

pall across the world. The research turned out to be even 

more productive than the scientists expected, and the international collaboration engendered was, during the time 

of the Cold War, a very positive and surprising result. The 

scientific community soon began to lobby for a continuation of the Antarctic work, citing the need to get a long-term 

return on the infrastructure investment and the value of the 

data that were being produced and pooled for all to use. Unknown to them, President Eisenhower had already decided 

that a permanent agreement was necessary, both to stop 

the arguments between Chile, Argentina, and the United 

Kingdom over sovereignty and to ensure that the Soviets 

were not able to militarize the Antarctic and escalate the 

arms race to a new level. He used the pleas from the science 

community as window dressing to support his initiation of 

secret talks in 1957 between the 12 countries toward a new 

Antarctic Treaty for the continent (Berkman, this volume).

Meanwhile, the ICSU Comité Speciale de l’Année 

Géophysique Internationale (CSAGI) had already decided 

at its fourth meeting that a more permanent international 

focus for Antarctic science would be necessary and recommended to ICSU that a Special Committee on Antarctic Research should be formed. This was the beginning of SCAR.

This paper will examine the development of the relationship between the Antarctic Treaty Parties and SCAR, 

using examples to indicate how scientific advice has laid 

the foundations for both law and policy.

EARLY DAYS

The first meeting of SCAR was organized at The Hague 

in February 1958. The ICSU had decided that it would be 

attended by delegates from the 12 countries active in the 

Antarctic as well as representatives of the five most relevant scientific unions (International Union of Geodesy 

and Geophysics [IUGG], the International Geographical 

Union [IGU], the International Union of Biological Sciences 

[IUBS], the International Union of Pure and Applied Physics 

[IUPAP], and the Union Radio Scientifique Internationale 

[URSI]) and one from the World Meteorological Organization. They gathered for a three-day meeting that laid the 

firm foundations for what would follow over five decades.

All the participating nations except New Zealand and 

South Africa were there as well as two of the unions, all 

represented by scientists except Chile (whose ambassador 

attended as an observer). Only Belgium, the USSR, and 

the United States brought advisors along, so it was a small 

meeting of 18 people (Figure 1). R. Fraser and E. Herbays 

represented ICSU, W. Schytt IGU, A. Bruun IUBS, and 

G. Laclavère IUGG whilst N. Herlofson chaired the meeting. The main objectives were to agree to a constitution for 

the committee, elect officers, frame a budget, and prepare 

a scientific plan for the years after IGY. A draft constitution had been prepared, apparently by Valter Schytt, based 

on other ICSU constitutions, and circulated in advance. It 

was commendably short at this stage!

The sterling international work done during IGY ensured the unopposed election of Georges Laclavère from 

France as president, with Keith Bullen from Australia as 
walton / SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 7 7

vice-president and Valter Schytt as secretary. Costs were 

estimated at $6000 per year, so the initial contribution 

was set at $500 per nation with the intention to move 

to a sliding scale in future years based on the number of 

overwintering staff. The establishment of the World Data 

Centres by ICSU had already removed one potential task 

from their list of key scientific activities, but the range of 

science within IGY needed to be broadened now that the 

emphasis was not principally on geophysics. The meeting set up three working groups to discuss future research 

programmes: WGI Meteorology, Oceanography, Cosmic 

Physics, Biology & Physiology; WGII Geology, Glaciology, Morphology & Cartography, and WGIII Seismology, 

Gravity & Vulcanology. Given the limited information 

on biology, this initial disciplinary listing seems still heavily biased to Earth science and physics and is probably a 

reflection of the expertise around the table. This structure 

of working groups changed at later meetings as more scientists became directly involved. In addition, it was agreed 

that SCAR’s area of interest would be determined principally by scientific features. The SCAR scientists agreed 

on the Antarctic Convergence (Polar Front) as the general 

northern boundary but then decided that some islands 

lying north of this would need to be included for biological reasons: Ile Amsterdam, Iles Crozet, Gough Island, Iles 

de Kerguelen, Macquarie Island, Prince Edward Islands, 

Ile Saint-Paul, South Georgia, and Tristan da Cunha. They 

also agreed to establish the SCAR Bulletin to provide a 

reporting link to the global community.

Most importantly, they stated that “the continuation of scientific activity in Antarctic research should be 

regarded as being inspired by the interest aroused by the 

FIGURE 1. Participants in the first SCAR meeting, The Hague, February 1958. 1, Dr. L. M. Gould, United States; 2, Dr. Ronald Fraser, ICSU; 

3, Dr. N. Herlofson, convenor; 4, Colonel E. Herbays, ICSU; 5, Professor T. Rikitake, Japan; 6, Professor Leiv Harang, Norway; 7, Dr. Valter 

Schytt, IGU; 8, Dr. Anton F. Bruun, IUBS; 9, Mr. J. J. Taljaard, South Africa; 10, Captain F. Bastin, Belgium; 11, Captain Luis de la Canal, 

Argentina; 12, Sir James Wordie, United Kingdom; 13, Professor K. E. Bullen, Australia; 14, Dr. H. Wexler, United States; 15, Ingénieur Général 

Georges Laclavère, IUGG; 16, Ingénieur Général André Gougenheim, France; 17, Mr. Luis Renard, Chile; 18, Dr. M. M. Somov, USSR; 19, 

Prof. J. van Mieghen, Belgium. From Wolff (2010).
7 8 • science diplomacy

activities of IGY but was in no way an extension of the 

IGY.”(SCAR, 1959). This statement was clearly a get-out 

clause for politicians who wanted to draw a line under 

their national involvement and had, at that stage, the potential to severely limit future involvement.

As a component body of ICSU SCAR had to adopt 

their normal method of national representation, which was 

through a committee constituted within the national academy of sciences. Since all 12 countries were already ICSU 

members, this did not cause any problem, but it did take 

a little time for all of them to establish committees, not all 

of which have functioned effectively over the past 50 years. 

Although at the time this must have seemed a logical and 

effective route for communicating with the active scientists, within a few years it became clear that this would be 

a troublesome and ineffective linkage for many countries.

Political wrangling was continuing over who would 

continue to work in Antarctica and just how extensive that 

work would be. The politicians worried over the escalating bill for, as some saw it, scientists to have a good time at 

the taxpayers’ expense. The impetus seemed to be failing 

when, at the Fifth CSAGI Meeting in Moscow in August 

1958, a formal proposal from Soviet scientists to continue 

Antarctic research galvanized both the scientists and their 

politicians. It seemed that the Soviet scientists were desperate to maintain the international links that the IGY had 

fostered as well as capitalising on the international recognition gained by the launch of Sputnik 1. To assuage the 

politicians, they needed to find a new name for the oneyear extension and the “Year of International Geophysical 

Co-operation” became the new title, but however it was 

dressed up it was clear that if the USSR was staying, so 

were the Americans and many others.

SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY

The State Department pushed ahead with its plan for 

a new governance system, capitalizing on the wave of scientific enthusiasm. The 60 secret meetings in Washington 

eventually resulted in sufficient agreement for the countries to decide that a more formal and public negotiation 

could take place to finalize the details of the Antarctic 

Treaty (Hanessian, 1960). Meeting in Washington, D.C., 

starting on 15 October 1959, the Contracting Parties, as 

they styled themselves, finally signed the Antarctic Treaty 

on 1 December 1959. In the process of agreeing to the 

Antarctic Treaty the Contracting Parties had found a way 

of setting to one side the sovereignty claims and disputes, 

had demilitarized a continent and ensured that it could 

not be used for dumping nuclear waste, had established an 

international inspection procedure (which was effectively 

the first nuclear arms treaty), and had formally recognized 

that the continent should be used only for peace and science for the good of all mankind. Given the range of national objectives, the superpower struggle for supremacy, 

and the history of animosity between many of the participating countries, this was a remarkable achievement.

The parties had recognized at an early stage that to 

govern the continent they would need good scientific advice. Although SCAR is not mentioned in the Antarctic 

Treaty itself, right from the first Consultative Meeting in 

Canberra in 1961 the importance of input from SCAR 

was formally recognized. Indeed, many of the delegations 

contained scientists associated with SCAR: e.g., for Australia, R. Carrick, F. J. Jacka, and P. G. Law; for France, 

G. Laclavère; for New Zealand, E. I. Robertson; for Norway, A. K. Corvin; for South Africa, M. P. van Rooy; for 

the United Kingdom, B. B. Roberts; for the USSR, M. M. 

Somov; and for the United States, T. Jones.

In the final report of the First Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM, 1961) the first four recommendations all dealt with science, and Recommendation I-IV 

was specifically devoted to SCAR:

The Representatives agree without prejudice to the rights of 

Governments, to make such arrangements as they deem necessary to further the objectives of scientific co-operation set forth 

in the Treaty:

1) That the free exchange of information and views among 

scientists participating in SCAR, and the recommendations concerning scientific programmes and co-operation 

formulated by this body constitute a most valuable 

contribution to international scientific co-operation in 

Antarctica,

2) That since these activities of SCAR constitute the kind 

of activity templated in Article II of the Treaty, SCAR 

should be encouraged to continue its advisory work 

which has so effectively facilitated international cooperation in scientific investigations.

At that same meeting the Contracting Parties took the 

first steps to rectify the lack of any specific conservation 

measure in the Antarctic Treaty itself. Using a report published by SCAR in 1960 (Carrick, 1960), they agreed to Recommendation I-VIII, “Conservation of the Antarctic Flora 

and Fauna,” establishing an interim measure that in 1964 

they would turn into Recommendation III-VIII, “Agreed 

Measures for the Conservation for the Antarctic Fauna and 

Flora.” Linked to this was Recommendation III-X asking 
walton / SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 7 9

that SCAR should continue to report on conservation matters especially with respect to proposals for specially protected species and specially protected areas.

At the Fourth Meeting of SCAR in October 1961 in 

Wellington the Biology Working Group seized on the progress toward the Agreed Measures and promptly drew up a 

list of suggested protected areas, as well as recommending 

that the Ross seal and the fur seals should be designated 

as specially protected species. At IV ATCM in Santiago in 

1966, 15 new protected areas were designated, and the 

Ross and fur seals were formally given special protection. 

Interestingly, the Biology Working Group had completed 

its 1961 report with the statement that “research in Antarctic biology would suffer if SCAR becomes too involved 

in the political and economic aspects of conservation, as 

distinct from the formulation of principles and recommendations based upon scientific work.” Clearly, SCAR 

had already recognized the difficult balancing act it would 

need to achieve if its inputs to policy were to be valued yet 

its nonpolitical status was to be protected.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CONVENTION 

FOR THE CONSERVATION 

OF ANTARCTIC SEALS

There were other politics on the horizon that drew 

SCAR in even more closely to the Antarctic Treaty. The 

notification by Norway that a pilot sealing expedition 

would go to Antarctica in 1964 drew immediate attention 

to the history of sealing and its disastrous consequences 

for fur seals. The Consultative Parties quickly passed Recommendation III-11 urging that any pelagic sealing be undertaken in such a way as not to disrupt the ecosystem 

nor threaten the integrity of species. They followed this 

at the next meeting with Interim Guidelines on the Voluntary Regulation of Antarctic Pelagic Sealing (Recommendation IV-21) and urged SCAR to continue its interest 

(Recommendation IV-22) in the subject. The SCAR had, 

indeed, been active, with the Biology Working Group first 

producing a statement on pelagic sealing in August 1964 

and establishing a Subcommittee on Seals to consider the 

problems in more detail. Returning to the subject in 1968 

the Biology Working Group had the report of the subcommittee to consider. This report proposed a revision of the 

Antarctic Treaty’s Interim Guidelines, changing many of 

the details and laying out details of permissible catches in 

Annex A and the location of sealing zones in Annex B. An 

important element in the SCAR response was the acceptance of the principle that seals were a resource that could 

be sustainably harvested and that, despite the wishes of 

some scientists, it was not possible to argue for a complete 

ban on commercial sealing.

This concern over seals finally resulted in the first of the 

additional conventions to the Antarctic Treaty. The Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals (CCAS), 

agreed by the Consultative Parties in 1972 in London, 

specifically mandates SCAR to provide scientific advice on 

stock sizes and management. To involve an independent 

nongovernmental ICSU body directly in this way was certainly unusual, and indeed, the signing of the instrument 

was delayed until 2 June 1972 , the day after SCAR formally accepted the task. One longer-term commitment by 

SCAR as a result of CCAS was the formation and support 

of a new Group of Specialists on Seals, part of whose role 

was to be prepared to provide advice to CCAS if needed. 

Since commercial sealing has never restarted, the convention has never been used, but SCAR continues to collect 

data annually on seal numbers killed in scientific research.

BIOMASS AND CCAMLR

Others beside the seal biologists had also become 

alarmed at the prospect of major changes in the Southern 

Ocean. American biologists at the Second SCAR Biology 

Symposium in 1968 (Holdgate, 1970) had noticed the way 

in which the Soviet Union was researching krill; they recognized not only how little was really known about krill 

but also that it did appear to be a keystone species in the 

Southern Ocean food web. The Soviet Union had both research vessels and trawler fleets in the Southern Ocean and 

was actively catching krill, having mastered the technical 

problems of processing the animals prior to freezing them, 

as well as catching large quantities of fish. There were no 

controls on any of these actions as the Antarctic Treaty 

specifically did not cover the high seas.

These U.S. scientists persuaded the National Science 

Foundation to fund the first multidisciplinary oceanographic cruise on board the USNS Eltanin in 1972 to 

study the structure and function of the Ross Sea ecosystem 

(El-Sayed, 1973). Meanwhile, at the SCAR Biology Working Group meeting in August 1972 in Canberra a strong 

case was made for a new focus on marine resources, and a 

new Subcommittee on Marine Resources was established, 

with S. Z. El-Sayed as its chairman. Meeting in Montreal 

in 1974, the subcommittee made rapid progress, and in 

1975 the SCAR Executive Committee established it as a 

new Group of Specialists on Southern Ocean Ecosystems 

and their Living Resources. In November of the same year 
8 0 • science diplomacy

the Scientific Committee on Oceanic Research (SCOR) 

agreed to cosponsor the group, as did the International 

Association for Biological Oceanography (IABO) and the 

Advisory Committee on Marine Resources Research of 

the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization. 

Activities increased as VIII ATCM asked SCAR to provide 

a report on progress on Antarctic marine living resources. 

The group met in 1975 in Cambridge and then again in 

Woods Hole in August 1976, where, in a much larger conference format, the proposal for cooperative studies in the 

Southern Ocean was developed, and Dick Laws devised 

its new acronym, BIOMASS: Biological Investigations of 

Marine Antarctic Systems and Stocks.

The BIOMASS programme was on a much larger scale 

than anything SCAR had attempted before. It lasted over 

10 years, with three international field seasons, involving 

many ships from 11 countries. Its scientific outputs were 

considerable (El-Sayed, 1994), but just as important was 

the way in which this research activity stimulated the 

Treaty Parties to develop a new system of governance 

and management for the Southern Ocean. In 1977 at IX 

ATCM the parties agreed to establish a new convention 

for the sustainable management of marine living resources 

and thus was born the Convention for the Conservation 

of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR), which 

was signed on 20 May 1980 and came into force on 7 April 

1982. The SCAR scientists were closely involved in advising on the scientific basis for the convention, which was 

established on a new principle: maximum sustainable yield 

without disturbing the existing ecological relationships between species. Equally important was the acceptance by 

the politicians of the scientific argument that the CCAMLR 

boundary should not be that of the Antarctic Treaty but 

a relevant biological one: the Antarctic Polar Front (Antarctic Convergence). As Nigel Bonner has said (Bonner, 

1987:145), “CCAMLR is a philosophical scientist’s convention. It is certainly not a convention for fisheries managers,” yet it has been made to work and its principles have 

since been adopted for other regional fisheries.

The SCAR was granted the status of observer at the 

CCAMLR Scientific Committee once it was established, but 

since so many SCAR scientists were already involved in national delegations, it initially rarely took up the role. Later, 

it appointed a marine scientist as the official SCAR representative to ensure that requests to SCAR could be formally 

targeted and to allow for an independent report to the Biology Working Group at the following SCAR meeting.

These early exchanges set the model for the relationship between SCAR and the Antarctic Treaty for 

the first 25 years where SCAR’s ideas, suggestions, and 

recommendations were filtered into the ATCMs through 

national delegations. Some authors (e.g., Herr, 1996) have 

included SCAR as a part of the Antarctic Treaty System, 

but that suggests an equality of legal persona that has never 

existed between governmental and nongovernmental representation. Of course, SCAR scientists were included 

within many of the national delegations, but the organization itself did not initially have any formal representation.

Vidas (1996) has suggested that the changes (the admission of observers and experts as well as the Acceding Parties) 

were largely a response to the charge at the United Nations 

that the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) was an “exclusive 

club” of rich and powerful states and that their discussions 

were veiled in secrecy, with the hope of defusing further criticism. Certainly, the latter charge was true, and it is difficult 

to understand at this distance why secrecy was apparently 

so important in the governance of an uninhabited continent. 

Perhaps the first and natural refuge of diplomats in any intergovernmental meeting at that time was to deprive the 

public they represented of any useful information so that 

they could work untrammelled by public opinion.

Criticism eventually had some effect. The Consultative Parties responded to increasing public concern in 

1983 by first allowing Non-Consultative Parties to attend 

the meetings, then admitting as Consultative Parties India, 

Brazil, China, and Uruguay (undermining the argument 

at the United Nations that only developed states could 

achieve the highest status), and finally inviting both observers and experts to attend the meetings, thus meeting 

the criticisms from the international environmental lobby.

So, finally, at XIV ATCM in 1987 in Rio de Janeiro, 

SCAR and CCAMLR were both formally invited to take 

their place as observers and were requested to provide reports of their activities to the plenary. Since then, SCAR’s 

input to the Antarctic Treaty meetings has steadily increased, 

not only in terms of providing information and working papers but also in the institution of a SCAR science lecture to 

the plenary, the first of which was given by Claude Lorius 

(then president of SCAR) at XV ATCM in Paris.

CONSERVATION INITIATIVES

Having had a major hand in establishing CCAMLR, 

SCAR was already moving on. The Biology Working Group 

Subcommittee on Conservation was chaired by Nigel Bonner, a seal biologist, then head of Life Sciences Division 

at the British Antarctic Survey. Bonner had watched with 

interest the development of a World Conservation Strategy 

by the International Union for the Conservation of Nature 
walton / SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 8 1

(IUCN, 1980) with assistance from the United Nations Environment Program (UNEP) and the World Wildlife Fund 

(WWF). The IUCN had observed continuing and accelerating degradation of habitats globally, widespread pollution, 

and damage from the development of infrastructure, a lack 

of adequate conservation legislation, and governments 

whose priorities were short-term and economic rather than 

long-term and strategic. Published in 1980 (IUCN, 1980), 

the objective of the strategy was to integrate conservation 

and development in a global framework within which national and regional strategies could be developed. Section 

18 was devoted to the Global Commons and drew particular attention to the need to manage the Southern Ocean 

living resources sustainably. In 1982 IUCN proposed that 

a joint meeting be held with SCAR to bring conservationists together with Antarctic scientists. Following this, at 

the 16th IUCN General Assembly in 1984 Antarctica was 

designated as a region in which IUCN should actively promote the protection, management, and conservation of the 

environment and natural resources.

The IUCN formally approached SCAR, and Bonner was designated to work with their convenor (Martin 

Angel) on developing such a regional conservation strategy for the Antarctic, covering both the land and the surrounding ocean. With support from both sides the joint 

IUCN/SCAR Symposium on Requirements for Antarctic 

Conservation was held in Bonn in April 1985. Out of this 

was developed the Strategy for Antarctic Conservation 

(IUCN, 1991). For whatever reason, IUCN and SCAR 

failed to send the strategy to the ATCM, which at that 

point, was rather absorbed in agreeing the Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, and the 

valuable lessons that could have been utilized were lost. 

Indeed, the strategy was not written in a user-friendly 

fashion, and its published format was not well designed. 

Despite all the effort put into drafting and agreeing it, the 

strategy failed to make any substantive mark on Antarctic 

environmental governance.

FINDING A CONCENSUS ON MINERALS

The Antarctic Treaty is silent on all forms of resource, not only because the extent and value of Antarctic 

resources were unknown in the 1950s but also because 

achieving agreement on these, even as abstract aspirations, 

would have been too difficult for the Washington talks. 

Although marine living resources (first as seals and then as 

fish and krill) were the initial resources legislated for, the 

question of mineral resources was already floating steadily 

upward. Interest in Antarctic minerals was first expressed 

at VI ATCM in Tokyo in 1970, in an attempt to interest 

Contracting Parties in developing a minerals regime ahead 

of the need for one (Joyner, 1996). This proved to be excellent timing as the actions of the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) in 1973 in restricting 

the world supply of hydrocarbons and causing a quadrupling of the price jerked governments into considering all 

sorts of new possibilities for future hydrocarbon development. In addition, in 1971–1972 drilling by the Glomar 

Challenger in the Ross Sea had discovered traces of methane but no oil, fuelling media speculation that there could 

be extensive oil reserves in Antarctica. The VII ATCM in 

Wellington began the discussions ostensibly as part of a 

concern that mineral extraction would have serious impacts on the environment. At their next meeting in Oslo 

in 1975 their Recommendation VIII-14 invited SCAR to 

make an assessment of the possible environmental impacts 

of mineral exploration and exploitation.

The SCAR was immediately apprehensive about this, 

and at XIV SCAR in Mendoza there was very spirited 

discussion about what should be done to provide a reply. 

Some biologists were concerned that any response by 

SCAR would be seen as supporting mineral exploitation 

whilst others from the geological sciences saw this as an 

opportunity to lay out what little was really known about 

economic mineral resources and correct many widely publicized misunderstandings. In the end, SCAR established 

the Group of Specialists on Environmental Impact Assessment of Mineral Resource Exploration and Exploitation 

in the Antarctic (EAMREA), chaired by Jim Zumberge, 

a geologist, but containing a wide range of both geologists and biologists. Parts of their report submitted to IX 

ATCM proved politically unacceptable (especially to the 

USSR), and the Antarctic Treaty then established its own 

Intergovernmental Group of Experts which produced a 

parallel report (Bonner, 1993b).

The Antarctic Treaty soon saw that such a contentious 

subject would need lengthy negotiations away from public 

view and these could not be contained within the normal 

ATCM agenda. A series of Special Consultative Meetings 

was begun under the chairmanship of Chris Beeby from 

New Zealand, leading in 1988 to a consensus in the form 

of the Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral 

Resource Activities (CRAMRA). During the course of these 

negotiations SCAR was again asked for advice, producing 

a new report “Antarctic Environmental Implications of 

Possible Mineral Exploration and Exploitation” in 1986.

All this effort appeared to be in vain because although 

all parties signed CRAMRA, the refusal first by Australia 
8 2 • science diplomacy

and then by France and New Zealand to ratify it effectively consigned it to limbo. Yet the new environmental 

thinking that went into the safeguards in CRAMRA was 

to find an unexpected outlet in a more general instrument 

for environmental protection.

THE FORMATION OF THE COUNCIL 

OF MANAGERS OF NATIONAL 

ANTARCTIC PROGRAMS

The SCAR Working Group on Logistics had been one 

of the first formed after SCAR was established. It never sat 

easily alongside the other purely scientific working groups, 

but it did have the advantage of ensuring that science and 

logistics periodically met together and talked. In its early 

days it was tasked with responding to several Antarctic 

Treaty requests on communications, transport, and even 

data management. As SCAR membership increased, the 

diversity of appointments of national programme managers increased, with some from science backgrounds, 

others from technical and engineering backgrounds, and 

some, from South American countries in particular, managers from diplomatic or military backgrounds. The degree of autonomy that each had varied widely and, with 

it, the degree of political control, as well as the extent 

of resources that each controlled. Organizing the working group proved a continuing problem, yet SCAR felt 

strongly that having the managers within the SCAR umbrella was the most effective way to keep communications 

going and integrate the science and logistics for efficiency.

When Edward Todd was Director of the Office of Polar 

Programs (OPP), he apparently developed some strong 

views on SCAR, believing that SCAR was interfering in the 

way that the United States made its decisions about science 

programs and logistics. In 1983 he wrote, with respect to 

the Logistics Working Group, “some SCAR participants 

forget that commitments to SCAR are not governmental 

commitments by most SCAR participants who have no 

such charter; this confusion has led SCAR to assume management direction of research activities to which governments are not committed, and to unwarranted criticism 

of governments that have declined the presumed commitment of resources necessary to implement them” (Fowler, 

2000:32). This streak of irritability persisted in the United 

States, and the appointment of Peter Wilkness as Director of the National Science Foundation Office of Polar 

Programs exacerbated it further. Wilkness saw the working group as an ineffective anachronism and questioned 

how government employees (the managers) could realistically make themselves subservient to a nongovernmental 

body (SCAR Executive Committee). He began to talk up 

the need for change in San Diego in 1986 and reinforced 

this at a special meeting in Boulder in 1987. In all this 

he found a willing supporter in Jim Bleasel, the director 

of the Australian Antarctic Division and the chairman of 

the Working Group on Logistics. Together they persuaded 

the managers that their rightful place was in their own 

autonomous organisation. Discussions continued through 

into the next SCAR meeting in Hobart, where on 15 September 1988 the Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP) was formed. To try to find a 

face-saving formula, the new organization was described 

as being “federated” to SCAR, but in reality, the managers 

had broken free completely, appointing David Drewry as 

the first chairman and Al Fowler as executive secretary in 

a new independent secretariat (Fowler, 2000).

Appearing at the next ATCM in Bonn in their own 

right, COMNAP made a major impression on the Contracting Parties as a well organized and professional body 

and immediately began to undertake studies at the request of the Consultative Parties. This impression was, of 

course, helped by the extensive resources under the control of the managers, who could easily divert both staff 

and thousands of dollars into exercises they thought politically important. This was in sharp contrast to SCAR 

whose report, presented by Dick Laws as President, had 

suggested that SCAR had problems funding the work necessary to meet the constant stream of requests from the 

Antarctic Treaty. In particular, he said, “If the ATCPs do 

not give reasonable weight to the views of SCAR and if 

SCAR is unable to attract the relatively substantial (but 

absolutely small) extra funds required it may be obliged to 

concentrate on primary science and withdraw from giving 

advice on applied or management problems. The ATCPs 

have not responded to SCAR requests for extra funding to 

enable it to carry out the applied science function. To help 

SCAR make a decision it asks the ATCPs to make clear 

their intentions” (ATCM, 1992:232). He went on to lay 

out what should be the relevant responsibilities of Treaty 

Parties, SCAR, and COMNAP and cautioned against the 

Consultative Parties taking advice from environmental 

pressure groups. This sort of straight talking was not to 

the liking of some Consultative Parties, who questioned 

the role of SCAR and, by inference, its temerity in telling 

governments what should be done. Although many Consultative Parties came to the rescue of SCAR, no funding 

was forthcoming, and by breaking the implicit rules that 
walton / SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 8 3

govern discussions at Antarctic Treaty meetings, this report made the role of SCAR at ATCMs harder to achieve 

immediately afterward.

THE PROTOCOL REVOLUTION

The sudden demise of CRAMRA and the rapid negotiation of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the 

Antarctic Treaty have been well documented (Chaturvedi, 

1996). By pulling many of the environmental protection 

elements from CRAMRA and rationalizing the many 

conservation and management recommendations already 

agreed, the Consultative Parties were able to draft the 

protocol much more quickly than might have been expected for such a key international document. Such was 

the speed that SCAR, although present, was largely left 

out of the loop as the meetings concentrated on agreeing 

the form of the text and its limitations rather than dealing 

in detail with its implementation. As far as science is concerned the Protocol on Environmental Protection established a much more coherent approach to conservation 

and environmental management and finally brought some 

much needed tools (like environmental impact assessment) into normal use. As is often the case with Antarctic 

Treaty legislation, it provides careful ambiguity in some 

key areas (for example, what exactly are “associated and 

dependent ecosystems” or “minor or transitory impacts”) 

and sets out goals with little indication of how they can 

be achieved. Nevertheless, by establishing the Committee 

for Environmental Protection (CEP) it provided a potentially powerful forum for developing environmental advice independent of SCAR.

The SCAR saw both opportunities and drawbacks in 

the new system. In order to cope with the increased number of environmental requests from the Antarctic Treaty, 

the SCAR Executive Committee had decided in 1988 to 

convert the Subcommittee on Conservation to the Group 

of Specialists on Environmental Affairs and Conservation 

(GOSEAC). Initially chaired by Nigel Bonner and then 

later by David Walton, it was required (SCAR, 1988)

to advise SCAR on matters directly related to environmental affairs and conservation in the SCAR area of interest, in particular:

•	 identification of environmental criteria relating to research activities and associated logistic support, as well 

as to relevant commercial activities and the selection of 

sites for all types of stations,

•	 environmental aspects of waste disposal

•	 protected areas in the Antarctic

•	 additional protective measures.

Thus, SCAR was well prepared for engaging with the 

CEP when it finally came into being and provided a wide 

range of assistance, including workshops organized on 

protected areas, subantarctic island management, and environmental education; a handbook for the preparation of 

protected area management plans; detailed protocols for 

environmental monitoring of human impacts; checklists for 

inspections of protected areas and incinerator emissions; 

input to the Liability Annex discussions, bioprospecting, 

and marine acoustic impacts; and a detailed revision of 

every management plan for a Specially Protected Area or 

Site of Special Scientific Interest proposed or revised.

GEOGRAPHICAL NAMES

In undertaking science in Antarctica it has always 

been necessary to be able to name topographic features 

so that specimen collection localities can be identified and 

maps produced of biological and geological observations. 

The early expeditions provided some names, but as exploration and then the IGY progressed, names began to be a 

problem.

The disputes over sovereignty were a major part of 

the problem the Consultative Parties had in acting at the 

Antarctic Treaty level, and as more and more maps began 

to appear with duplicate names the possibility of chaos 

loomed. The SCAR Working Group on Geodesy and 

Geographic Information had been tracking the problem 

for many years, noting how individual countries promulgated new names for existing named features, the lack of 

any agreed nomenclature for describing features, and the 

poor positional data that often accompanied new names. 

By scientific standards many countries were doing a very 

poor job. At XXII SCAR in 1992 in Bariloche the working group resolved to compile a composite gazetteer, with 

Italy volunteering to compile the database and Germany 

developing a set of toponymic rules for naming. The SCAR 

Composite Gazetteer of Antarctica was first published in 

1998 (SCAR, 1998) and has been continually updated 

ever since. Although originally issued as a printed publication, it soon became available online.

None of this work was either requested or supported 

by Treaty Parties, yet the arrival of the final product gave 

a new tool to everyone. Since SCAR had been careful to 
8 4 • science diplomacy

include all names that could be validated without suggesting which one should be used, the gazetteer was as politically anodyne as it could be and is now the basic reference 

source for all.

MARINE ACOUSTICS

Sometimes actions for environmental protection can 

have major consequences for science, and SCAR has had 

to employ considerable resources over a long period in 

order to ensure that policies are based on the best science 

available rather than on political agendas. An excellent example is the difficulties raised by a licensing authority over 

certain types of marine research.

There have been a variety of cases around the world 

where whale stranding appears to have been associated 

with marine noise or where some measure of disturbance 

has been credited to nearby military, commercial, or scientific activities (Weilgart and Whitehead, 2004), but the 

evidence is very confusing, partial, and possibly species 

specific. In 1998 Germany decided that the deployment of 

seismic instruments in the Southern Ocean was likely to 

cause unacceptable impact on marine mammals. Since German ships needed a permit from the Federal Environment 

Agency (Umwelt Bundes Amt) to operate, this effectively 

stopped all marine geophysics programmes. The German 

SCAR Committee asked if there really was evidence to 

support this contention. The SCAR decided to establish an 

ad hoc group to look at marine acoustics and produced 

an initial information paper for the ATCM promising to 

follow up with more detailed evidence (SATCM, 2000). 

The output from a SCAR workshop in Cambridge in 2001 

(O’Brien, 2004) provided the basis for two papers to the 

Antarctic Treaty (ATCM, 2002a, 2002b) whose general 

conclusions were that the evidence available did not justify 

a ban on seismic surveys or scientific echo sounders in Antarctic waters but that mitigation strategies should be used 

as a precautionary measure. There was a further paper 

in Madrid (ATCM, 2003 ), and then SCAR held another 

international workshop in Cadiz. The final discussion on 

marine acoustics took place at the Edinburgh ATCM in 

2006, where SCAR provided a report on the Cadiz workshop (which included a new risk assessment system for seismic studies) (ATCM, 2006a )and a case study of ship noise 

based on the Polarstern (ATCM, 2006b) and COMNAP 

provided a detailed breakdown of all seismic equipment 

on Antarctic research vessels (ATCM, 2006c). Meanwhile, 

in 2002 the Conference on the Impact of Acoustics on 

Marine Organisms had been organized in Berlin, under 

the auspices of Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft, which 

added some more details to the SCAR publications and 

again highlighted the lack of any solid data from the Antarctic on which to base regulations (Anonymous, 2004). 

For some within Germany this information was not sufficient, and they turned to promoting the application of 

the precautionary principle instead. It was made clear to 

the Consultative Parties by SCAR on several occasions 

that a sensible regime needed new research to establish not 

only which species might be affected, the degree of impact, 

and its severity but also the effectiveness of the mitigation 

measures proposed. It would appear that the appeal fell on 

deaf ears, and no such research was funded. Although the 

Polarstern initially used foreign licences to operate multinational geophysics cruises, there were eventually changes 

in the restrictions on low-power seismic systems, and some 

science was able to be undertaken. No other Consultative 

Party followed Germany in restricting its geophysics research, and there are still no new data from the Southern 

Ocean to substantiate the need for restrictions.

ACCESS TO DATA

One of the fundamental elements of the Antarctic 

Treaty (Article III, paragraph 1(c)) is that all data collected 

within the Antarctic Treaty area should be freely available 

to all. The development of databases in World Data Centres during and after IGY was an important step in this 

direction for some scientific fields. However, these centres 

did not encompass all aspects of Antarctic science, and it 

became clear that a new initiative was necessary to allow 

access to the very considerable amounts of data that were 

being produced. In 1985 at the XIII ATCM, during discussions on human impacts on the environment, Consultative 

Parties decided that there was scope for improvement in 

data management and, in Recommendation XIII-5, asked 

SCAR what steps could be taken to improve the comparability and accessibility of scientific data. The SCARCOMNAP ad hoc Planning Group on Antarctic Data 

Management was formed in June 1992, and its first report 

proposed developing an Antarctic Data Directory System comprising National Antarctic Data Centres linked 

through an Antarctic Master Directory. This proposal was 

reported to the Antarctic Treaty (ATCM, 1992), and these 

ideas, elaborated at the second meeting (SCAR, 1994), became the basis for all future developments.

In 1997 COMNAP and SCAR finally reached agreement on joint funding and joint oversight for the committee, and the ad hoc committee became the Joint Committee 
walton / SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 8 5

for Antarctic Data Management (JCADM). It is fair to say 

that SCAR took the leading role in developing the framework of National Data Centres and the establishment of 

the metadata directory, and although the joint nature of 

the funding continued for some years, COMNAP never 

provided any serious input into what it considered to be a 

wholly scientific exercise. It was, of course, also meant to 

incorporate COMNAP data, but managers were unwilling 

to entrust any of their data to it.

Despite the efforts of many people JCADM grew 

more slowly than expected, not least because some national operators were apparently unable to establish a 

national Antarctic data centre. Recommendation XXII-4 

addressed this point directly but failed to get all the managers to act. After a major review in 2005 a reorganization 

of both the role and objectives has ensured that JCADM 

is now firmly linked into the new SCAR programme structure, and the objectives of the original Antarctic Treaty 

recommendation are closer to being met. One of the key 

objectives of SCAR in recent years has been the development of a comprehensive data and information management strategy for the Antarctic, into which the activities of 

JCADM would fit. Such a strategy was developed in time 

for the XXX SCAR meeting in St. Petersburg in 2008. At 

that meeting, delegates endorsed the strategy and, following COMNAP’s decision to discontinue partially funding 

JCADM, agreed that JCADM should become the Standing Committee on Data and Information Management 

(SCADM). The SCAR intends to draw the attention of the 

Consultative Parties to the new data strategy, as a means 

of getting it widely applied for the benefit of all.

REORGANISING SCAR

Elzinga (2009) has suggested that the pressure from 

new applicants to SCAR, enthusiastic to gain Consultative 

Status at the ATCM before CRAMRA came into operation, as well as the admission of SCAR to the ATCM as an 

official observer, triggered the development of a strategy 

discussion within the organisation. Although these were 

certainly relevant factors, there were many others, including the increasing importance of scientific conservation issues, a change in the Executive Secretary, the formation 

of COMNAP and the Standing Committee on Antarctic 

Logistics and Operations (SCALOP), and a determination 

by several presidents, including Claude Lorius and Dick 

Laws, to reexamine the objectives of the organization 

in the light of science trends. It also seems likely to have 

been influenced by the identification of Antarctic ozone 

depletion in 1985, the recognition that ice cores could provide key palaeoclimatic data, and the identification that 

the Southern Ocean was a major carbon sink, all combining to suddenly thrust what was considered regional 

science onto a global stage. This point was commented on 

by David Drewry in the first editorial in the new journal 

Antarctic Science (Drewry, 1989). The establishment of 

the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) in 

1988 as well as the continuing development of the International Geosphere-Biosphere Program (IGBP) all pointed 

toward the need for a more-integrated cross-disciplinary 

approach to science, including that from the Antarctic, 

which was reflected in the development of a new SCAR 

programme on global change (SCAR, 1992).

In addition to internal discussions of change the General Council of ICSU decided to undertake a review of 

SCAR using an international panel chaired by Rita Colwell 

from the United States. The SCAR did not initially handle 

this review well but, rather late in the day, was able to provide the indications that ICSU needed to guarantee their 

support for the continuation of SCAR. The review committee’s report was both supportive of what had been achieved 

and critical of the internal organisation, not least because 

the available funds were insufficient to meet an increasingly 

demanding role both in science coordination and in advice 

to the Antarctic Treaty. In addition, the report suggested 

that a merger with International Arctic Science Committee 

(IASC) might be considered to form a single polar committee and that an Antarctic Science Foundation could be 

formed to raise more funding (Colwell, 1993).

Delegates to XXII SCAR in Bariloche spent some 

time discussing the report and suggesting changes to the 

SCAR strategy as well as responses to the ICSU report. 

The SCAR responded to the report by disagreeing with the 

proposals for a foundation and especially with a merger 

with IASC but welcoming the recognition that funding 

was too low. The SCAR Executive Committee clearly felt 

that the report failed to understand the political dimension 

of interactions with the Antarctic Treaty, where a lack of 

sound science advice could seriously disadvantage Antarctic research in the future (SCAR, 1993). However, the 

comments on internal efficiency did strike home, and some 

minor changes were made to improve information flow.

The SCAR then lapsed back into complacency, apparently not recognizing that its structure and organization 

were woefully inadequate in a fast-moving and rapidly 

changing world. The Executive Committee did decide to 

make some changes, but little progress was made at either 

XXIII SCAR or at XXIV SCAR, and it was not until XXV 

SCAR in Concepción in 1998 that a force for change 
8 6 • science diplomacy

appeared. Six strategy papers were tabled, addressing a 

wide range of possibilities, but it was only when Chris Rapley from the United Kingdom and Jörn Thiede from Germany challenged the slow pace of change, and proposed an 

ad hoc review group with an independent chair, that change 

really became the focus of attention. This ad hoc group 

was chaired by Phil Smith from the United States, whose 

Antarctic credentials went back to IGY, and its remit was 

drawn widely enough for all possibilities to be examined. 

Its report was discussed by the SCAR Executive Committee 

in 2001, and implementation was agreed at XXVII SCAR 

in 2002. The most fundamental changes were the appointment of an executive director, the establishment of major 

peer-reviewed science programmes, an increase in funding, 

etc. The effect of all of these changes began to be felt immediately as new five-year programmes were devised; delegate 

committees were given new responsibilities for oversight; 

existing committees were merged, changed, or closed; and 

an experienced international scientist became the first executive director. The SCAR had suddenly woken up!

THE FUTURE

According to Herr (1996), the role played by SCAR 

in the development of the ATS was well beyond a passive 

legitimating influence. He says (p. 106), “SCAR helped 

to make the ATS work in terms of effectiveness by acting 

as a facilitator for regime objectives, providing a clearing 

house for scientific information. Moreover, its constituent organs at the national level in many countries served 

as a lobby group for both resources and support for the 

ATS regime.” Indeed, others from the more militant elements of the nongovernmental organisation sector have 

seen this role as far too quiescent, gaining influence by 

being co-opted into the system rather than questioning it. 

This fine line between policy and science, between advocacy and reporting, is one that SCAR has been walking 

for the last 50 years. As Zumberge (1987:8), a previous 

president of SCAR, wrote, “The line between science and 

politics has become more finely drawn, and SCAR must 

exercise constant vigilance to avoid becoming tangled in 

policy matters that, while they may relate to scientific activities, are the business of the Consultative Parties that 

administer the Antarctic Treaty and related agreements.” 

Keeping to the right side of the line can be very difficult 

at Antarctic Treaty meetings when it is clear that inexperienced delegates are proposing unsound policies that will 

have serious impacts on science! The scientific contributions made to discussions at the Antarctic Treaty owe a 

great deal to the activities of Nigel Bonner, David Walton, 

and Steven Chown, whose presentations and explanations 

at the Antarctic Treaty meetings have provided a much 

higher profile for SCAR science than before.

Nigel Bonner (1993a) had suggested, rather pessimistically, that the formation of COMNAP, the establishment 

of the Scientific Committee of CCAMLR, and the development of the Committee for Environmental Protection 

(CEP) would all lead to a weakening of SCAR’s role and 

influence. Although at that point the future did, indeed, 

seem rather grey, now almost 20 years later the situation 

appears to have changed significantly. Although there are 

more experts providing science input to the CEP, the Consultative Parties now seem much more able to recognize 

the good science from the dressed-up polemic. The new 

working relationships with both CEP and CCAMLR have 

provided SCAR with many opportunities to respond to requests and to take the initiative, and the relationship with 

COMNAP is functional, although still far from perfect. 

The role of science in the ATS continues to be a strong 

one, with SCAR providing the lead.

The development of a new form of interaction between 

the CEP and SCAR has taken some time. The special status of SCAR in providing advice to the Antarctic Treaty 

is clearly indicated in the Protocol on Environmental Protection, but the final wording adopted is less supportive 

than that originally proposed by Sweden (Bonner, 1993b, 

p. 107): “In carrying out its functions, the Committee shall 

have regard to the work of the Scientific Committee on 

Antarctic Research . . . To that end, SCAR shall be invited 

to present their views and to comment on proposals within 

their competence put forward by the Committee. Such 

comments shall be presented together with the report from 

the Committee.” After almost 40 years of SCAR providing 

a wide range of environmental and conservation advice the 

Consultative Parties clearly thought that the CEP was immediately going to provide a scientific committee for the 

Antarctic Treaty. This it failed to do, not only because for 

many years it lacked adequate expertise but also because 

the CEP also decided that a number of areas where SCAR 

had previously provided advice and assistance would now 

be dealt with by the Consultative Parties. The SCAR was 

told its help was no longer required, especially in areas like 

management plans for protected areas. Tension developed 

between the CEP and SCAR, not least when it became clear 

that the outputs being agreed were much less satisfactory 

than when SCAR had provided them.

As the CEP has matured and grown in expertise, although more slowly than most people had hoped, it has 

also redeveloped its links with SCAR, so that for the 
walton / SCAR AND THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 8 7

immediate future the two sides are agreeing a work plan. 

This plan will deliver well-considered science advice at a 

pace that SCAR can manage and the CEP can properly 

consider by ensuring that the energy and time of the CEP 

is properly focused at each meeting on a smaller number of key topics. The SCAR has, of course, continued 

to pursue its own science agenda and, where appropriate, passed its findings to the Antarctic Treaty. The latest 

input, one of the most important for many years, has been 

the synthesis on Antarctic climate and the environment 

(Turner et al., 2009).

Meanwhile, SCAR has also approached IUCN about 

revising the Antarctic conservation strategy to meet the 

needs of the twenty-first century. The IUCN is now actively 

engaged in seeking possible sponsorship for this (IUCN, 

2009). Linked to this, there is a need for more-detailed information on the natural biodiversity in Antarctica so that 

non-native species can be more easily identified, and considerable work is needed to rationalize the protected areas 

on land and develop, with CCAMLR, a sensible range of 

marine protected areas.

Environmental monitoring of activities is a continuing 

requirement for which SCAR and COMNAP have provided a wide range of reports. However, the monitoring 

of tourism activities and the potential use of the data to 

manage areas by closure or visitor limits is a contentious 

area that so far has defied agreement and funding. Equally 

important is the provision of pattern and trend data to the 

CEP and to the IPCC on the effects of climate change.

The SCAR is at present flourishing as never before. 

It has 31 members, with another four countries as associate members. Its programmes are addressing global science questions where the data are relevant not only to the 

Antarctic Treaty Parties but to many other countries and 

organizations. Its relationship with IASC and SCOR continues to develop, and its Open Science conferences every 

two years now attract over 1,000 scientists.

Although this paper has necessarily focused on the history of interactions between SCAR and the ATS, a much 

fuller account of the first 50 years of SCAR activities is 

contained in Walton and Clarkson (In press). The SCAR 

has undertaken a remarkable range of activities over the 

past 50 years in support of good governance of the Antarctic. Throughout this entire period it has not received 

any financial support from the ATCM whatever the size of 

the task that was proposed. Now, with a permanent secretariat, the Consultative Parties are still unwilling to use its 

potential and allow the secretariat to service the CEP more 

directly by holding databases and working directly with 

science organisations like SCAR to ensure that the right 

information is available at the right time. It could even 

commission small pieces of work if it was provided with 

minimal funds, but this seems unlikely to happen given 

the level of control that some Parties insist on exerting 

over the secretariat. The symbiosis between the Antarctic Treaty and SCAR will, however, continue because it is 

in the long-term interests of both sides to ensure that the 

governance of a continent for peace and science is, indeed, 

underpinned by good science.

Acknowledgements

I am grateful to Dr. Peter Clarkson and Professor Jörn 

Thiede for their comments on a draft version. I am indebted to Dr Torben Wolff who supplied the image for 

Figure 1.

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INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty was adopted in 1959 to deal with a geopolitical vacuum around the southern continent that was a source of tension and conflict. It 

was also inspired by the success of the scientific cooperation under the International Geophysical Year, 1957–1958. The treaty created the conditions for Antarctica to become a continent for peaceful international scientific cooperation. 

In terms of its original purposes, the treaty has been a tremendous success. Even 

at times of considerable tension in regions close to Antarctica, the treaty regime 

of disarmament and peaceful cooperation in Antarctica has been maintained 

without interruption.

In addition, on the basis of the treaty a legal regime for the protection of 

the Antarctic environment was built up, which is now enshrined in the Protocol 

on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Environment Protocol) of 

1991 and its six annexes. This regime is still being developed further through the 

measures of the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM).1

As an active participant in the ATCM from 1997 to 2004 and then as its 

senior official at the head of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat from 2004 to 2009, 

I am proud to have made a contribution to its work. At the same time, my experience with the ATCM has also given me concerns about its ability to meet the 

challenges that are facing it in the twenty-first century.

In this chapter I will argue that although the Antarctic Treaty Parties and the 

ATCM established a comprehensive regulatory system to manage Antarctica, 

they have never shown much interest in the practical questions of ensuring its 

implementation or even its maintenance as a clear and consistent set of regulations. To put it in another way, the regulatory regime has outstripped the capacity of the parties to implement it. Without aiming at a systematic treatment, I 

will discuss some reasons for this gap between theory and practice, one of which 

is the resistance of the parties and the ATCM to institutional development. In 

a time of increasing pressure on the Antarctic environment resulting from technological and economic development, the regime needs to be strengthened; I 

believe this could be done, however, without changing the basic features of the 

Antarctic Treaty System.

The Antarctic Treaty: 

Toward a New Partnership

Johannes Huber

Johannes Huber, Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, 

Av. Leandro N. Alem 884 Piso 4, C1001AAQ, 

Buenos Aires, Argentina. Correspondence: jansr

@huber.nl.
9 0 • science diplomacy

BACKGROUND

When the Antarctic Treaty was adopted 50 years ago, 

Antarctica was a remote, dangerous place, where survival 

was only ensured by heroic efforts and mutual cooperation against the continuous threat of a hostile environment. No wonder that a lot of the early measures of the 

ATCM concerned mutual cooperation between stations!

Fifty years later, Antarctica can be reached by regular air connections from three continents. Scientists on the 

stations are connected to the Internet and can pick up the 

phone and call their loved ones. Antarctica is a regular 

stop for the worldwide cruise industry, and tens of thousands of tourists visit it every year. Furthermore, the main 

business before the ATCM is no longer concerned with 

demilitarization, but rather protection of the Antarctic environment against the consequences of mankind’s increasing access to the continent.

The evolution of the Antarctic Treaty from a geopolitical agreement to prevent conflict over Antarctica into the 

core of a regulatory system managing Antarctica started 

from the beginning of the Antarctic Treaty. The first 

ATCM, held in Canberra in 1962, adopted Recommendation I-VIII, “General Rules of Conduct for Preservation 

and Conservation of Living Resources in Antarctica,” 

and a more comprehensive set of rules was outlined in the 

Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna 

and Flora (adopted with Recommendation III-VIII, Brussels, 1964). Conservation activities on a global scale were 

only just beginning at that time, of course, so the ATCM 

was acting in the spirit of the times. More measures were 

added regularly, and the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Madrid, 1991) organized 

all of this into a single scheme, bringing much of Antarctic 

conservation into line with developments outside.

The administration and implementation of a comprehensive regulatory regime for Antarctica was, however, 

not foreseen in the procedures of Article IX, and with the 

conclusion of the Environment Protocol in 1991 it became 

clear that some adaptations would have to be made to the 

functioning of the Antarctic Treaty system.

Some steps were, in fact, taken. In the first place, in 

the Environment Protocol the Committee on Environmental Protection (CEP) was established. If one could say that 

the institution of the CEP represents the first step toward 

institutionalization taken by the ATCM (the CEP has a 

Chair and Vice-Chairs who are elected for specified terms, 

unlike their counterparts in the ATCM who are appointed 

at each meeting only for that meeting), one would have 

to add that it was a very cautious one. The CEP does not 

have any powers of its own; its only function is to “provide advice and formulate recommendations to the Parties 

in connection with the implementation of this Protocol, 

including the operation of its Annexes, for consideration 

at Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings.”2

The second change was to amend the procedures for 

dealing with measures adopted by the ATCM. According 

to the provisions of Article IX, measures adopted by the 

ATCM “become effective when approved by all [Consultative Parties] entitled to participate in the meetings held to 

consider those measures,” a process that even in the early 

days took years and became ever more time-consuming 

with the increase in the number of parties. This process was 

too cumbersome to deal with the measures necessary to put 

into effect the Environment Protocol, and so in the annexes 

of the protocol provision was made for the automatic entry 

into effect of certain types of measures. A few years later, 

at the 19th ATCM in Seoul in 1995 the Consultative Parties made a more general change and decided to reserve 

the application of this provision only to texts containing 

provisions intended to be legally binding, to be called from 

then on Measures with a capital M. The other types of 

measures adopted by the ATCM, divided into Decisions 

(dealing with internal organizational matters) and Resolutions (containing hortatory texts), are not subject to this 

procedure and consequently enter into force immediately.3

The third step was the decision in principle taken at 

the 17th ATCM in Venice in 1992 to set up a permanent 

secretariat of the treaty. The ATCM had been meeting for 

30 years without feeling the need for any permanent institution, and initiatives for a secretariat had been routinely 

dismissed until that time, but the establishment of a comprehensive system of environmental regulations made such 

a situation untenable. The fact that the ATCM occupied itself for 12 years, from 1992 to 2004, deciding where to locate its secretariat may indicate a certain lack of urgency.4

These changes were necessary and could be regarded 

as the first steps toward an effective regime. A brief look at 

some features of the present situation, however, will make 

clear that much progress still has to be made.

THE CURRENT SITUATION

The Approval Process

If the process for reaching unanimous agreement on a 

recommendation appears tortuous, then at least it benefits 

from undivided attention of all those attending the ATCM. 

Once agreement has been reached and the delegates return 
HUBER / A NEW PARTNERSHIP • 9 1

home, the Antarctic appears to go to the bottom of the attention pile, and often, very little national action is taken 

to implement the items agreed. As mentioned before, with 

the increase in the number of Antarctic Treaty Parties to 

the Antarctic Treaty the time spent on completion of the 

approval process according to Article IX, paragraph 4, 

has increased greatly; indeed, one might say to a ludicrous 

extent. Some recommendations of the 1990s, such as Recommendation XVIII-1 (Venice, 1992), which established 

the basic guidelines for tourism in Antarctica, have not yet 

become effective almost 20 years after they were adopted.5

To take a more recent example, the 27th ATCM 

(Capetown, 2004) adopted Measure 4 (2004), “Insurance 

and Contingency Planning for Tourism and Non Governmental Activities in the Antarctic Treaty Area.” This 

measure provides that Antarctic Treaty Parties must require operators “organising or conducting tourist or other 

non-governmental activities in the Antarctic Treaty Area” 

to have “appropriate contingency plans and sufficient arrangements for health and safety, search and rescue (SAR), 

and medical care and evacuation” in place before the start 

of any activity, together with insurance covering the costs.

These safety issues have received much attention from 

the ATCM in recent years. At a special seminar by the International Hydrographic Organization during the 31st 

ATCM in Kyiv in 2008, the National Hydrographer of the 

United Kingdom, Rear Admiral Ian Moncrief, stated that 

the question was not if a serious accident would occur with 

a tourist ship in Antarctic waters, but when. And yet, up to 

now, the ATCM has no specific legal basis in its own measures for the regulation of tourist vessels in the Antarctic 

Treaty area. Nevertheless, despite frequent expressions of 

concern in the ATCM, in the five years after adoption of 

the Measure 4 only 9 of the necessary 28 Consultative Parties have gotten around to approving it.6

A similar case is that of Annex VI of the Environment 

Protocol, which introduces the principle that operators 

should under some circumstances be liable for the consequences of environmental emergencies caused by them. 

It took 12 years to negotiate and even then contains far 

less substance than many originally envisaged, and at the 

current pace it will take at least that long to be approved 

and enter into force. At the time of writing, five years after 

its adoption, it had been approved by only four Antarctic 

Treaty Parties.

Which Measures Are in Effect?

Lack of a permanent secretariat meant that until 2004 

each party hosting an ATCM had the entire responsibility 

for assembling the documentation for the meeting, collecting the documents submitted to it, and drawing up and 

distributing its report. Under such circumstances, in which 

every year a new team had to start from scratch organizing 

the meeting, it is not surprising that the legislative record 

of the ATCM, consisting of several hundreds of measures, 

is full of discontinuities, gaps, and duplications. This 

situation has not been helped by the fact that the rapid 

turnover of delegates in most national delegations has ensured a weak collective memory of what has gone before. 

When adopting a new measure, the ATCM did not, until 

recently, necessarily indicate which earlier measures were 

invalidated or replaced. After 50 years, this means that the 

question of which measures are currently in effect and applicable to any particular issue does not have a clear and 

unambiguous answer.

This issue was first raised some 20 years ago, when 

some Antarctic Treaty Parties that had recently acceded to 

the Antarctic Treaty were trying to find out which previous measures they would have to approve in order to meet 

their obligations. The matter has been discussed on and 

off since then, but progress has been very slow. After many 

years of discussion, the 25th ATCM in Warsaw adopted a 

decision declaring 24 previous recommendations “spent.” 

Despite the establishment in the meantime of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, no further progress was made until 

2007, when a further 13 former measures were declared 

“no longer current.” Even with the Secretariat now doing 

the analytical work preparing these decisions, nothing has 

happened at the next two meetings. Considering that possibly up to half of the 400 odd measures on the books are 

actually out of date, this is slow progress indeed!7

Implementation Problems

Because of the nature of the Antarctic Treaty itself, 

especially Article IV on the sovereignty claims over parts 

of Antarctica, implementation of the Antarctic Treaty regime has always been a complicated question. Possible 

solutions, such as a condominium or full internationalization, had been discussed before, but by 1959 the Antarctic 

Treaty Parties had come to the conclusion that these were 

not viable options. Instead, they chose a supremely pragmatic approach, basically setting the claims aside without 

providing any definitive solution to the sovereignty issue 

and concentrating on practical cooperation to let the scientists get on with their research.

The compromise represented by the Antarctic Treaty 

has worked marvelously well. Its legal basis, however, is 

weak, as the status of the area it is dealing with is not 
9 2 • science diplomacy

settled in the treaty, and attempts at a more precise definition of that status usually run into opposition from the 

Treaty Parties, especially those with sovereignty claims. 

The result is that implementation of the environmental regime, which is comprehensive in its aims, has to be 

left entirely to the national governments of the Antarctic 

Treaty Parties, with all their different legal and institutional systems.

A tourist ship cruising through the Antarctic Treaty 

area and calling at various stations will encounter a different situation in each one. In one place it will be greeted by 

officials of one Antarctic Treaty Party who act almost as if 

they are the territorial authority exercising port state control and in another by officials of another Party who are 

mostly concerned with minimizing interruption of their 

station’s research activities.

A system like this, which does not have an international 

organization for its implementation but, instead, relies on 

the purely national efforts of the participating countries, 

needs strong provisions on transparency and information 

sharing. Thanks to the wisdom of its framers, the Treaty 

actually provides a solid foundation in these areas. Article 

VII of the Antarctic Treaty establishes that “all areas of 

Antarctica, including all stations, installations and equipment within those areas, and all ships and aircraft at points 

of discharging or embarking cargoes or personnel in Antarctica, shall be open at all times to inspection” by the observers designated by the Antarctic Treaty Parties. At the 

same time, the Parties are required to inform each other beforehand of, among others things, “all expeditions to and 

within Antarctica, on the part of its ships or nationals, and 

all expeditions to Antarctica organized in or proceeding 

from its territory; all stations in Antarctica occupied by its 

nationals.” Article VII was the foundation for a system of 

information exchange covering many aspects of all activities, whether official or nonofficial, on Antarctica, and with 

the adoption of the Environment Protocol the basic operational information about expeditions, stations, ships, aircraft, and personnel was expanded to include many kinds 

of environmental information, such as environmental impact assessments, permits to visit protected areas, permits 

to take fauna and flora, waste management plans, etc.

Access to this kind of information is a precondition 

for any kind of management system, so one of the first 

priorities of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, after its establishment in 2004, was the development of a central 

database to collect all the many kinds of information 

exchanged under this system, as had been decided at the 

24th ATCM in St. Petersburg.8

 After three years of development work, at the 31st ATCM in Kyiv the ATCM 

instructed the Secretariat to put the Electronic Information Exchange System into operation.9

Unfortunately, the observance of Article VII by the 

Antarctic Treaty Parties is inadequate, both with regard 

to inspection and with regard to information exchange. 

Of course, Article VII does not require Parties to carry out 

inspections. Considering the importance of inspection activities, however, it is disappointing that more than half of 

all Consultative Parties have never engaged in any inspections at all and some long-occupied stations have never 

been visited by an inspection team.

Much more serious is the failure of the Antarctic 

Treaty Parties to fulfill their obligation to report on their 

activities. The mandatory information exchange requirements are clearly laid down in the treaty, the Environmental Protocol, and the subsequent measures adopted by the 

ATCM, but many parties are in breach of these rules year 

after year. With an electronic system now in operation, 

compliance has become much easier, and so the number of 

Antarctic Treaty Parties providing information is growing, 

but it still is far from satisfactory. To give an example, at 

the time of writing, when the 2009/2010 Antarctic season 

is already over, only 16 of the 28 Consultative Parties had 

provided their preseason information!10

An important reason for the various failings to maintain and implement the regime is a lack of human and financial resources. Except for a small number of the major 

Antarctic Treaty Parties, most Treaty countries do not have 

adequate personnel or expertise, either at headquarters or 

in the field, for a credible implementation of the regulatory regime they have legally instituted. The personnel in 

the field are fully occupied keeping their stations going, 

and the human resources devoted to Antarctica at home 

are very limited. Most Consultative Parties have only one 

or two officials in their capitals occupied with Antarctic 

Treaty matters and often on a part-time basis at that. It’s all 

they can do to prepare adequately for the annual ATCM.

The ATCM

The inheritor and guardian of a glorious tradition of 

cooperation and comradeship with regard to Antarctica, 

the ATCM is a unique forum and is, by far, the most harmonious and constructive international diplomatic circle 

that I have ever encountered in my career. To some extent, 

however, it is the victim of its own success. Speakers in 

the ATCM often refer in a self-congratulatory manner to 

the Antarctic tradition and the contribution it has made 

to maintaining Antarctica as a continent of “peace, scientific cooperation and environmental protection.” It is a 
HUBER / A NEW PARTNERSHIP • 9 3

tradition to be proud of. At the same time, the ATCM 

is also an intensely conservative and complacent group 

where agreements are negotiated in a confidential, clubby 

atmosphere, far away from the public and the media, and 

where change is usually resisted.

The ATCM functions on the basis of Article IX of the 

Treaty, which determines who may take part in the meetings: representatives of the original 12 signatories and of 

those parties that conduct “substantial scientific research 

activity” on Antarctica, together called the Consultative 

Parties. According to Article IX, the meetings are held 

for the purpose of “exchanging information, consulting 

together on matters of common interest pertaining to 

Antarctica, and formulating and considering, and recommending to their Governments, measures in furtherance of 

the principles and objectives of the Treaty.”

Even after 50 years, this is still a faithful description 

of the work of the ATCM. The trouble is that the entire 

context in which the meeting takes place has changed out 

of all recognition. The first ATCM, held in Canberra in 

1962, united representatives of the 12 original signatories 

and scientists, including veterans of the IGY. Now, the 

ATCM is held yearly and includes representatives of more 

than 40 Antarctic Treaty Parties, both Consultative and 

Nonconsultative, international organizations, and scientific and other nongovernmental organizations.

Not only has the ATCM grown, but the issues facing 

it and the environment in which it operates have changed. 

Besides being a diplomatic conference to negotiate new 

measures, the ATCM is also a forum bringing together the 

governments responsible for the de facto administration of 

an entire continent.

Questions relating to the effectiveness of this administration, however, are rarely discussed. It is characteristic 

for the ATCM that it is happy to hold long discussions 

on the precise interpretation of certain provisions relating to environmental impact assessments—the terms 

“a minor or transitory impact” come to mind—but one 

would look in vain for any attempt to compare the application of environmental impact assessments (EIAs) in 

practice between different countries as this would have 

potentially embarrassing political consequences, exposing some Antarctic Treaty Parties as grossly negligent in 

the way they approach this activity. The ATCM functions 

like a continuous diplomatic conference, ever negotiating 

new refinements of the original agreements. Avoiding the 

sensitivities of the Parties, and of various groups of the 

Parties—countries with claims, countries with a “basis of 

claim,”11 countries that don’t recognize any claims—is the 

all-important objective. Questions relating to the current 

status and the consistency of the body of legislation created by the ATCM do not have a great priority, let alone 

questions relating to its implementation and effectiveness.

One of the most sensitive points in this continuing diplomatic negotiation is the question of institutional development. Especially to some of the Antarctic Treaty Parties 

that maintain a claim or a “basis of claim” of sovereignty 

to parts of Antarctica, the development of any institutions 

is very easily seen as a threat to the power of national 

administrations. Of course, the chance that any national 

claim will ever be recognized by the rest of the world is 

practically zero, so the claims being protected are largely 

theoretical in nature and mostly relevant only to the domestic politics of the nations concerned. At the same time, 

they do make the development of the Antarctic Treaty System in the direction of an effective and efficient cooperative system of governance much more complicated.

In the view of some Parties, the ATCM is nothing 

more than a diplomatic conference, and so it has no continuing existence between its meetings. Nevertheless, the 

CEP (admittedly only an advisory body to the ATCM) 

has a Chair and Vice-Chairs who are elected according to 

formal procedures for definite periods. When a proposal 

was made at the 31st ATCM in Kyiv in 2008 to amend 

the Rules of Procedure and provide for the election of the 

chairs of the working groups of the ATCM for periods of 

two years, it was rejected, as some delegates considered 

this would “limit flexibility.”12 The traditional system, in 

which the chairs of the working groups magically emerge 

from the meeting of the heads of delegation the day before 

the start of the ATCM, was retained.

An even more serious “problem” for some parties is 

the existence of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, which is a 

definite institution, incorporated according to the laws of 

Argentina, with physical premises, employees, and a budget. When the instruments establishing the secretariat were 

negotiated, Antarctic Treaty Parties worried about the Secretariat as a potential rival to their own authority peppered 

the texts with clauses to the effect that the Secretariat does 

not have an independent existence but only functions as 

an instrument of the ATCM. Thus, Article 1 of Measure 1 

(2003), the measure establishing the Secretariat, does not 

actually specify its purpose or function, but merely states, 

“The Secretariat shall constitute an organ of the ATCM. 

As such it shall be subordinated to the ATCM”; similar 

phrases are repeated frequently in the measure. The only 

trouble is, What is the ATCM? If it is purely a diplomatic 

conference existing only two weeks every year, how can it 

possibly exercise the oversight described in the Secretariat 

instruments?
9 4 • science diplomacy

TOWARD A NEW PARTNERSHIP

In the preceding passages I have sketched some ways 

in which the Antarctic Treaty, the Environmental Protocol, 

and the measures of the ATCM, considered as the de facto 

regulatory regime to manage Antarctica, fall short in practice. At the same time, technological and economic development brings an ever-increasing involvement of the rest of 

the world with Antarctica, especially in the form of visitors 

by sea and by air. The demand for access to Antarctica for 

all kinds of purposes will continue to grow for a long time 

to come. Also, changes in the global climate system pose a 

growing threat to the survival of the Antarctic ecosystems.

A new partnership between the Antarctic Treaty Parties is needed to deal with these challenges and to preserve 

Antarctica as the world’s largest natural reserve, unspoiled 

by the humankind. Such a partnership would focus on 

joint, rather than purely national, implementation of the 

regulatory regime established through the ATCM.

Although a basic support structure now exists in the 

form of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, setting up an effective, up-to-date management system for Antarctica will 

need an increase in manpower and resources, both in national capitals and in the field. There is no need for any 

elaborate new legal or institutional development. What is 

needed, however, is a change of thinking, moving away 

from a narrow focus on the execution of purely national 

programs to a joint administration of Antarctica.

Also, as the basic approach will continue to be that of 

national implementation of all Antarctic regulation, the 

Antarctic Treaty Parties should urgently consider working 

out cooperative agreements, including open-ended coordination arrangements in the field, to minimize the gaps 

that inevitably will occur.

Possible elements of such a new approach might be 

the following:

•	 The assignment of informative, monitoring, and administrative functions related to the Antarctic regulatory regime to government personnel active in 

Antarctica. In some cases, dedicated personnel might 

be needed; in other cases these functions could be carried out by existing program personnel.

•	 Conclusion of flexible, open-ended liaison and coordination arrangements between the parties on a regional 

basis, on the model of the arrangements made for the 

administration of Antarctic Specially Managed Areas, 

to make sure all areas are covered for monitoring and 

implementation purposes.

•	 Strengthening the Electronic Information Exchange 

System so that it can provide, through the existing 

information exchange requirements, real-time information concerning permits, EIAs, contingency plans, 

etc., directly to government personnel in Antarctica 

tasked with implementing the management regime.

•	 Establishment of periodic monitoring and reporting 

systems on the state of the Antarctic environment as a 

whole and the successes and failures of the regulatory 

system.

•	 Adoption by the ATCM of provisions for the automatic entry into effect of Measures as a rule, maintaining, of course, exceptions in case any party would 

object within a certain period.

•	 Greater efforts by the Consultative Parties to deal with 

the national approval procedures of Measures adopted 

by the ATCM in a timely manner. Revision and updating by the ATCM of its body of legislation adopted 

by the ATCM and an active policy of publication and 

outreach with regard to the Antarctic Treaty System.

•	 Establishment by the ATCM of standing committees 

to oversee the work of the secretariat, monitor the implementation of the regulatory regime, and deal with 

emergencies.

•	 Allowing the establishment of standing committees 

of the CEP (as the Convention on the Conservation 

of Antarctic Marine Living Resources [CCAMLR] 

has) that can meet and report without simultaneous 

translation.

These are just examples of actions the Antarctic Treaty 

Parties might take. The Antarctic Treaty system has been 

a great success for 50 years, but it would be a mistake to 

take it for granted and to let it drift along and possibly lose 

relevance to the fast-developing situation of the Antarctic. 

Instead, by adopting a more active approach and taking 

a few modest institutional steps the Treaty Parties have 

a marvelous opportunity to show the world that its last 

remaining true wilderness can be managed on behalf of 

mankind by the countries active in Antarctica in a pragmatic and efficient way.

NOTES

1. The measures of the ATCM were previously called recommendations, as they are recommended to the governments of the Antarctic 

Treaty Parties and, according to Article IX, paragraph 4, only enter 

into effect after their approval by all parties concerned. In 1995 this 

procedure was amended; since then, the measures subject to the Article 
HUBER / A NEW PARTNERSHIP • 9 5

IX, paragraph 4, procedure are called Measures with a capital M. In 

this article, measures without capitalization will refer to all categories. 

Aside from the Treaty, the Protocol, and the measures of the ATCM, the 

Antarctic Treaty System also includes other agreements (Convention on 

the Conservation of Antarctic [CCAS] and CCAMLR) and measures 

adopted by the CCAMLR Commission; to simplify the argument, I will 

not treat these agreements here.

2. Environment Protocol, Article 12.

3. Decision 1 (1995).

4. See my article, “Notes on the Past, Present and Future of the 

Antarctic Treaty Secretariat,” Diplomacia 120 (2009): 35–43

5. Consultative Parties are not obliged, of course, to approve Measures, even if they have participated in their adoption at the ATCM. 

There are precedents for a party to come to the conclusion, after the 

adoption of a Measure, that circumstances had occurred that prevented 

them from approving it. In such cases they will usually inform the other 

parties at subsequent ATCMs of these circumstances. This is not the case 

with Recommendation XVIII-1, however, which has never encountered 

any opposition from any party.

6. Details on the approval process can be found in the Antarctic 

Treaty Database on the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat Web site (http://

www.ats.aq).

7. See J. Huber, “Notes on the ATCM Recommendations and Their 

Approval Process,” in The Antarctic Legal System and Environmental 

Issues, ed. G. Tamburelli, (Milan: Giuffrè Editore, 2006), pp. 17–31.

8. Resolution 6 (2001).

9. Decision 5 (2008).

10. Information Exchange section of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat Web site.

11. Article IV of the treaty safeguards the position of both the seven 

countries that have asserted claims of sovereignty (Argentina, Australia, 

Chile, France, New Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom) and the 

countries that have asserted a “basis of claim” (Russia and the United 

States).

12. ATCM XXXI (Kyiv, 2008) WP1 “Proposal by Australia, the 

United Kingdom and Norway to Amend Rule 11 of the Rules of Procedure of the ATCM”; Final Report, paragraph 35.

The 1959 Antarctic Treaty has as its principal purposes to ensure “in 

the interests of all mankind that Antarctica shall continue forever to be 

used exclusively for peaceful purposes and shall not become the scene 

or object of international discord” and to use the science performed 

there to benefit the entire planet.1 More than 50 years on, this accord has proved 

to be a remarkable multilateral instrument and, in many ways, is unique among 

international legal agreements. It is simple, straightforward, and succinct. It consists of 2,364 words contained in only seven pages set out elegantly in a preamble 

and 14 articles. Notwithstanding its conspicuous brevity, and the fact that seven 

of the original treaty parties assert claims to territory on the continent,2 what the 

treaty provides for in those legal provisions is huge, indeed. Moreover, the Antarctic Treaty has also demonstrated considerable adaptability and resiliency as it 

evolved from a single instrument into a robust regional regime containing four 

new instruments since its inception: the 1964 Agreed Measures for the Protection of Flora and Fauna,3

 the 1972 Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic 

Seals,4 the 1980 Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR),5

 and the 1991 Protocol on Environmental Protection to the 

Antarctic Treaty (Environmental Protocol).6 Notwithstanding the successful evolution of this legal regime,7

 in recent years three issues have surfaced that could 

challenge the legal integrity and political viability of this regional treaty regime.

The first challenge involves the possible conflict between claimant and nonclaimant governments over access to possible hydrocarbon resources offshore 

the continent. At the regulatory heart of this potential rush to secure access to 

as yet undiscovered south polar hydrocarbons lies Article 76 of the 1982 United 

Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS).8 Indeed, Article 76 provides the legal means by which coastal states can gain sovereignty over vast areas 

of submarine continental shelf areas offshore their coasts, areas that might hold 

enormous reserves of hydrocarbon resources. To that end, Antarctic claimant 

states have made either full or partial submissions to the UN Commission on the 

Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS), as provided for in Article 76, concerning the possibility of asserting continental shelf claims offshore their claimed 

Antarctic territories. Australia was the first claimant to make a submission to 

the CLCS and did so in November 2004.9

 The submission by New Zealand was 

Potential Challenges to the Antarctic Treaty

Christopher C. Joyner

Christopher C. Joyner, Department of Government, Georgetown University, Washington, 

D.C. 20057, USA. Correspondence: joynerc@

georgetown.edu
9 8 • science diplomacy

filed with the CLCS in April 2006, although it excluded 

a prospective outer continental shelf claim offshore its 

claimed sector in Antarctica.10 Argentina made its submission with the CLCS in April 2009, which included a map 

and geographical coordinating for outer continental shelf 

limits overlapping the Antarctic Peninsula.11 Norway filed 

a partial submission to the CLCS in May 2009, in which 

Dronning Maud Land was included.12 Chile made its submission in the form of a “Preliminary Information” statement to the CLCS in May 2009.13 The United Kingdom 

made two public communications concerning its outer 

continental shelf claims in the Antarctic, one in a note on 

9 May 2008 to the UN Secretary General, which indicated 

that United Kingdom would be making in 2009 “a partial 

submission” that “will not include areas of the continental 

shelf areas appurtenant to Antarctica, for which a submission may be made later.”14 Although France has not formulated any specific outer continental shelf claim offshore 

its clamed territory in Antarctica (Adelie Land), it did note 

in a “partial submission” to the UN Secretary General in 

February 2009 that such an offshore zone might well exist, 

for which a submission may later be made.15

The implications of potential continental shelf claims 

and the possibility of mineral and hydrocarbon resource 

development clearly weigh on the minds of many Antarctic Treaty Consultative Party (ATCP) governments. 

That these concerns are real was demonstrated in April 

2009 in the Ministerial Declaration on the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty, issued at the beginning of 

the 32nd Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting.16 In that 

document, the Consultative Parties pledged to “Reaffirm 

the importance they attach to the contribution made 

by the Treaty, and by Article IV in particular, to ensuring 

the continuance of international harmony in Antarctica.” 

Likewise, the ATCPs also pledged to “Reaffirm their commitment to Article 7 of the Environmental Protocol, which 

prohibits any activity relating to mineral resources, other 

than scientific research.” The declaration was designed 

to reiterate support for the basic tenets of the Antarctic 

Treaty System, especially key elements such as Article IV 

of the treaty and Article 7 of the Environmental Protocol. 

These two elements were emphasized in particular because 

they remain fundamental to the continuing health of the 

Antarctic Treaty regime.

In sum, two potential political problems are posed 

by these partial claimant state continental shelf submissions, either of which could have unsettling impacts on 

the stability of the Antarctic Treaty. First, if pushed on to 

full submission, these claimant state assertions would resurrect the dispute over the status of national sovereignty 

claims on the continent. Second, the allegation is bound 

to arise from nonclaimant governments that these submissions are actually extensions of claims made prior to 1959 

or even new claims made by each state. Since 1961 when 

the Antarctic Treaty entered into force, both these critical 

complications have been held in check by the ingenious 

construction of its Article IV, and the political willingness 

of the claimant government not to push the sovereignty 

issue. Prudence suggests that all the ATCPs ought to view 

their national interest as being best served by preserving 

the integrity of the present system, rather than risk politically unraveling it for the sake of asserting claims over 

unknown (and very likely unrecoverable) continental shelf 

hydrocarbon resources.

A second potential challenge to the integrity of the 

Antarctic Treaty is biological prospecting, or bioprospecting, in the region and the potential conflicts these activities 

might generate among Treaty Parties. Increasing scientific 

research on flora and fauna in and around Antarctica is 

being conducted with the aim of discovering commercially beneficial genetic and biochemical resources. Growing commercial interest in Antarctic genetic resources is 

evident, as indicated by the fact that products from Antarctic genetic resources are already being marketed by 

several companies, including nutraceuticals from krill oil, 

antifreeze proteins, anticancer drugs, enzymes, and compounds for cosmetic products. Much of this commercial 

activity focuses on the marine environment, in particular, 

the crustacean krill. Nearly 200 research organizations 

and companies from 27 states are undertaking research 

for commercial purposes in the Antarctic. Amongst the 

major sponsoring states are Japan, United States, Spain, 

United Kingdom, Korea, Canada, Sweden, Russia, China, 

Chile, New Zealand, France, Belgium, India, Denmark, 

the Netherlands, Germany, and Poland, all ATCPs. The 

most entries in the recently constructed Antarctic Bioprospecting Database originate from Japan and mainly 

focus on organisms in the marine environment, principally Antarctic krill. The second largest number of entries 

originate from United States, most of which also focus on 

marine biota, especially krill, bacteria, and fish.

The raison d’être of the Antarctic Treaty is to ensure 

peaceful uses only and opportunities for scientists to exchange freely information, personnel, and investigation 

results from research conducted in the Antarctic Treaty 

area. For the foreseeable future, it seems that bioprospecting in Antarctica mainly will be confined to the collection 

and discovery of new biological resources. Such activities 

should fall under the ambit of Article III since they address cooperation among scientific programs and scientific 
joyner / POTENTIAL CHALLENGES TO THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 9 9

personnel and the exchange of scientific observations 

and research results. Important also is that reporting requirements will likely furnish information about many of 

these activities, but such reports are not likely to include 

information about the commercial application of these 

resources. This consequence brings up two obvious concerns: First, can the desire to ensure commercial confidentiality and patent protection be reconciled with the legal 

requirements of scientific exchange and cooperation in the 

treaty’s Article III? Second, can intellectual property rights 

be preserved as a useful means for promoting and encouraging the exchange of scientific information? During these 

early years of bioprospecting in Antarctica, such queries 

remain unanswered by scientists, commercial investors, 

and statesmen involved in the region.

Certain unresolved bioprospecting issues could pose 

serious challenges within the ATCPs, particularly between 

claimant and nonclaimant states. For example, there is 

the lack of a consensus definition of biological prospecting as a research activity. Another legal concern relates to 

who has the authority to determine access to genetic resources in Antarctica. Consequently, although Article IV 

provides that “no acts or activities taking place while the 

present Treaty is in force shall constitute a basis for asserting, supporting or denying a claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica or create any rights of sovereignty 

in Antarctica,” what degree of legal authority, if any, do 

claimant states possess to regulate access to Antarctic genetic resources in their claimed sectors? No less important, would this “authority” give claimant states the right 

of refusal to a prospective bioprospector? Moreover, how 

and with whom should monetary and other benefits acquired from genetic resource research be shared? Who 

retains how much of the profits, if any, derived from bioprospecting research? Are all benefits to be retained solely 

by the company who invests most heavily in the research? 

Should claimant states figure into any exclusive scheme 

for apportioning benefits derived from genetic resources 

in their sector claim? Should the ATCPs receive benefits 

as a special group? Or should there be a common fund so 

that peoples worldwide might gain from Antarctica’s resources? Finally, with respect to the freedom of scientific 

research in the Antarctic Treaty area, should a distinction 

be made between basic scientific research, applied scientific research, and commercial use within the context of 

benefit sharing? These are important questions affecting 

bioprospecting activities that could trigger disruptive political reactions among the ATCPs. For the foreseeable future, however, most Antarctic Treaty parties seem content 

to allow bioprospecting activities to go forward, so long 

as conflict of interests can be avoided among research 

organizations, claimant governments, and nonclaimant 

governments.

In the search for answers to these critical questions, 

it would seem prudent and practical that lessons for bioprospecting might be learned from the experience during 

the 1980s of negotiating the prospecting phase for the 

Antarctic minerals regime, as well as by consulting the 

text of its nonoperational instrument, the Convention on 

the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities 

(CRAMRA), especially its Chapter III, which constitutes 

the prospecting section in that instrument.

A third potentially serious challenge to the integrity 

of the Antarctic Treaty lies in the political tensions arising between Japan and Australia, both Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Parties, over the former’s practice of lethal 

whaling in the Southern Ocean. The international body 

created to watch over national whaling operations is the 

International Whaling Commission (IWC), which in 1986 

adopted a moratorium on commercial whaling that still 

remains in effect. In 1994 the IWC created the Southern 

Ocean Whale Sanctuary, which prohibits all commercial 

whaling within its borders, consisting of nearly all of the 

Antarctic Southern Ocean.17 Even so, Japan in 2005 announced its intention to undertake Whale Research Program under Special Permit in the Antarctic (JARPA II), a 

large-scale Antarctic program, which began the next season. It is widely reported that much of the whale meat 

generated by JARPA II ends up for sale in fish markets for 

human consumption.

The conflict between Japan’s “scientific whaling” 

program and the Australian government became joined 

in 1980. That year Australia’s Parliament repealed the 

Whaling Act 1960 and replaced it with the Whale Protection Act of 1980. Legal protection for whales under Australian law was again reinforced in 1999 as Parliament 

enacted new legislation, the Environment Protection and 

Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC Act). The act 

establishes an Australian Whale Sanctuary (AWS) to help 

assure the conservation of whales and other cetaceans and 

acknowledges the “formal recognition of the high level 

of protection and management afforded to cetaceans” by 

Australia’s government.

Australia’s steadfast antiwhaling position over the 

past 20 years concentrated on Japan and boiled over into 

Australia’s Federal Court in 2004. The case was brought 

by Humane Society International (HSI), a public interest organization, against Kyodo Senpaku Kaisha Ltd. 

(Kyodo), a Japanese company engaged in killing whales 

in the Southern Ocean, specifically in the AWS, within the 
100 • science diplomacy

claimed exclusive economic zone (EEZ) off the Australian 

Antarctic Territory (AAT).

The key questions raised by HSI’s suit are, first, 

whether Japan had violated the EPBC Act and, second, 

whether Australia had the capacity to impose legal authority over the Japanese whaling fleet. The court reasoned 

that within the context of the 1982 UNCLOS and the provisions of the EPBC Act, Australia’s EEZ and attendant 

whale sanctuary did extend into Antarctic circumpolar 

waters. Therefore, the court concluded that because the 

Japanese killed whales within the AAT, they violated the 

Australian EPBC Act. Subsequently, the court issued an 

injunction to Kyodo, effective 15 January 2008, to refrain 

from the further killing, injuring, taking, or interfering 

with any Antarctic minke, fin, or humpback whales in the 

AWS bordering the AAT. Australia thus became the first 

state to judicially find that Japan’s whaling in the Southern 

Ocean Sanctuary was unlawful under national or international law. Significant to note, however, is that Japan 

publicly indicated in 2008 that it would ignore the Australian Federal Court’s ruling. The justification for this was 

not unreasonable. Japan, along with 187 other states, does 

not recognize Australia’s sovereignty on the continent nor 

its legal authority to declare jurisdictional zones (i.e., an 

Australian EEZ or a whale sanctuary) offshore Antarctica. 

Nearly all states, including Japan, interpret this to mean 

that all circumpolar Antarctic seas should be considered 

high seas, simply because no recognized sovereign coastal 

states exist within the Antarctic Treaty area.

The facts described above underscore the situation that 

Australia and Japan, two original parties to the Antarctic 

Treaty, remain at serious loggerheads over the Japanese 

government’s continued support for whaling in the Southern Ocean, most particularly in waters offshore the AAT. 

Their treaty relationship is no doubt further strained by the 

cosmetic character of Japan’s legal rationale for whaling, 

i.e., through special permits issued for “scientific research.”

This whaling dispute escalated to a new legal level on 

1 June 2010, when Australia instituted proceedings before 

the International Court of Justice against the Japanese 

government, alleging that “Japan’s continued pursuit of a 

large scale programme of whaling under the Second Phase 

of its Japanese Whale Research Programme under Special 

Permit in the Antarctic (‘JARPA II’) [is] in breach of obligations assumed by Japan under the International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling (‘ICRW’), as well as 

its other international obligations for the preservation of 

marine mammals and marine environment.”18 Japan has 

agreed to go before the court to respond to these allegations and could eventually win on grounds that whaling 

for “scientific research” is permitted by Article VIII of 

the ICRW. Nonetheless, it appears certain that Australia 

is aiming to have Japan’s whaling activity judged to be 

unlawful or at least shamed internationally in the court of 

world public opinion.

The issue still remains as to whether Japan’s whaling 

policy threatens the very purpose and intent of other ATS 

instruments. For example, what environmental risks to the 

marine ecosystem in the Southern Ocean are posed by the 

activities of Japanese whalers? Can whaling as an activity be viewed as undermining the environmental principles 

set out in the Antarctic Treaty’s Environmental Protocol? 

That is, does JARPA II as a national Japanese activity undercut the “protection of the Antarctic environment and 

dependent and [its] associated ecosystems and the intrinsic 

value of Antarctica, including its wilderness and aesthetic 

and dependent and associated ecosystems”? Specifically in 

this regard, do Japanese whaling activities produce “detrimental changes in the distribution, abundance or productivity of species of populations of species of fauna and 

flora” or cause “further jeopardy to endangered or threatened species or populations of such species” or lead to 

“degradation of, or substantial risk to, areas of biological, 

scientific, historic, aesthetic or wilderness significance” in 

the Antarctic marine ecosystem, as provided for in Article 

3 of the Environmental Protocol? Should the aggressive 

confrontations between Japanese whaling vessels and environmental activists in Antarctic waters be viewed as a 

breach of the fiat that the Antarctic area must be used exclusively for peaceful purposes and not become the scene 

or object of international discord? Notwithstanding the 

mandate in Article VI of CCAMLR, might the Commission on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources be empowered to take a bolder approach toward 

assessing the environmental impacts of Japan’s whaling 

activities on species within the Antarctic Treaty area? Although these queries remain more hypothetical than realistic suggestions, they should not be dismissed outright.

A final challenge unrelated to political differences 

amongst the ATCPs merits mention. This is the impact 

of global forces, especially climate change, upon the Antarctic Treaty System. Scientists generally agree that global 

temperatures and levels of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere are rising. Of all the world’s regions, the Antarctic 

Peninsula is particularly sensitive to small rises in the annual average temperature, which has increased by nearly 

3°C since the Antarctic Treaty was negotiated. This is 

about 10 times faster than the average for the rest of the 

world, which makes the peninsula area worthy of serious 

scientific scrutiny. The rapid disintegration of the Larson 
joyner / POTENTIAL CHALLENGES TO THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 101

Ice Shelf in 2002, the collapse of the Wilkins Ice Shelf in 

2008, and the calving since 1995 of giant icebergs the size 

of Delaware, Rhode Island, and Connecticut all graphically demonstrated the impacts that warmer waters are 

having around Antarctica’s perimeter ice shelves. In addition, most glaciers on the Antarctic Peninsula are in pronounced retreat because of climate change, and 40% of the 

sea ice off the West Antarctic Peninsula has disappeared 

in the last 25 years. In the peninsula area, these climate 

changes have disrupted local penguin colonies and even 

compelled some of them to migrate south. The remaining 

96% of the continent, however, shows no notable signs 

of either temperatures rise or loss of ice, a circumstance 

largely attributable to the cooling effects of the ozone hole 

over East Antarctica.

How best might the ATCPs deal with global climate 

disruption in the Antarctic? The answer lies in mobilizing more extensive scientific research efforts through the 

Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research to better understand the nature of the climate change problem and its 

impacts on the continent, circumpolar waters, and the indigenous wildlife, especially in the peninsula region. Ways 

and means must be devised to achieve closer coordination 

and collaboration in the ATCPs’ efforts to tackle the serious effects of climate change on marine resources in the 

Southern Ocean, including Antarctic krill, the critical prey 

species in the Antarctic marine ecosystem. Global climate 

disruption has intensified the urgency of these concerns as 

rising temperatures continue to melt sea ice, thus destroying key habitat and nursery areas for Antarctic krill. Less 

sea ice means fewer Antarctic krill, and fewer krill means 

less food for penguins, seals, whales, finfish, and squid in 

the region.

The immediate impact of human activity on natural 

climate cycles, from ice sheet dynamics to wind and ocean 

currents, remains unclear. A practical strategy would be for 

leading ATCP science governments, the United States, Russia, Australia, the United Kingdom, Japan, and Germany, to 

place highest scientific priority on research aimed at studying climate disruption in the Antarctic. By so doing, greater 

efforts might be brought to bear on understanding these impacts, which might then lead to new insights and strategies 

that the ATCPs can apply in dealing with the causes and 

managing the effects of climate change in the circumpolar 

south. Although there is no silver bullet for solving global 

climate disruption in the Antarctic, the best scientific minds 

in the ATCPs could mobilize considerable energy and revenues toward seeking viable, long-term solutions.

Over the past five decades, the Antarctic Treaty has 

proved itself to be among the most successful multilateral 

agreements negotiated in the twentieth century. It demilitarizes, denuclearizes, and guarantees freedom of scientific 

research, exchange of information, and programmatic cooperation between its member states over one-tenth of the 

Earth’s surface. But we now live in an era of accelerating 

technological development, rapidly unfolding globalization, and escalating natural resource demands. New pressures of economic need and political circumspection could 

generate negative impacts upon the cooperative character 

of the Antarctic Treaty regime. These include the possibility that claimant states might opt to implement national 

continental shelf claims offshore Antarctica or that companies or governments might undertake widespread unregulated bioprospecting activities in the treaty area or 

that tensions might become more exacerbated between 

Japan and Australia and antagonistic environmental activists over Japanese whaling in Antarctic waters. If any 

of these scenarios should occur, real risks and potentially 

high costs might be imposed upon the security of the Antarctic Treaty. Given the potentially grave consequences 

that these challenges could portend, they should be taken 

very seriously by all the Treaty Parties, but especially so 

by the ATCPs who have the most to lose by the treaty’s 

unraveling.

NOTES

1. “The Antarctic Treaty,” done 1 December 1959, entered into 

force 23 June 1961, 12 United States Treaties and Other International 

Agreements (UST) 794, Treaties and Other International Acts Series

(TIAS) No. 4780, 402 United Nations Treaty Series (UNTS) 71.

2. The seven claimants are Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New 

Zealand, Norway, and the United Kingdom. These seven plus Belgium, 

Japan, South Africa, the Soviet Union, and the United States were the 

original treaty members. By 2010, 47 states had become Treaty Parties. 

Of those, the original 12 and 16 others attained the status of Antarctic 

Treaty Consultative Parties (ATCPs), which are the participant decisionmaking governments that negotiate and adopt policies under the treaty. 

The acceding ATCPs are Brazil, Bulgaria, China, Ecuador, Finland, Germany, India, Italy, Republic of Korea, the Netherlands, Peru, Poland, 

Spain, Sweden, Ukraine, and Uruguay. The 19 Non-Consultative Parties are Austria, Belarus, Canada, Colombia, Cuba, Czech Republic, 

Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, Denmark, Estonia, Greece, 

Guatemala, Hungary, Monaco, Papua New Guinea, Romania, Slovak 

Republic, Switzerland, Turkey, and Venezuela.

3. “Recommendation III-VIII,” approved June 2, 1964, entered 

into force November 1, 1982, 17 UST 996, TIAS No. 6058 (1965), as 

modified in 24 UST 992, TIAS No. 7692 (1973),. The Agreed Measures 

were superseded by Annex II to the 1991 Protocol on Environmental 

Protection to the Antarctic Treaty when the protocol entered into force 

in 1998.

4. Done in London 1 June 1972, entered into force 11 March 1978, 

29 UST 441, TIAS No. 8826.
102 • science diplomacy

5. Done in Canberra on 20 May 1980, entered into force 7 April 

1982, 1329 UNTS 47.

6. “Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty,” 

Doc. XI ATSCM/2, 21 June 1991, adopted 4 October 1991, entered into 

force 14 January 1998.

7. A highly detailed and lengthy instrument, the Convention on 

the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities, was negotiated 

by the ATCPs between 1982 and 1988. See Done 2 June 1988 in Wellington, New Zealand, opened for signature 25 November 1988, Doc. 

AMR/SCM/88/78 of 2 June 1988, reprinted in 28 International Legal 

Materials (ILM) 859 (1988). However, owing to critical public protests 

from environmental activists in France and Australia over the possibility 

of minerals development in Antarctica, the agreement was indefinitely 

shelved and never entered into force.

8. United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, Art. 76, 

para. 1, Dec. 10, 1982, 1833 U.N.T.S. 397, http://www.un.org/Depts/los/

convention_agreements/texts/unclos/unclos_e.pdf [Hereinafter 1982 

UNCLOS] (accessed 18 November 2010).

9. Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS) Outer 

limits of the continental shelf beyond 200 nautical miles from the baselines: Submissions to the Commission: Submission by Australia, http://

www.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/submission_aus.htm 

(accessed 18 November 2010).

10. Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS).

11. Outer Limit of the Continental Shelf, Argentine Submission, 

Executive Summary, pp.11–16, 22, http://www.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_

new/submissions_files/arg25_09/arg2009e_summary_eng.pdf (accessed 

18 November 2010).

12. Continental Shelf Submission of Norway with respect to Bouvetoya and Dronning Maud Land (Executive Summary), http://www.un.org/

Depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/nor30_09/nor2009_executive

summary.pdf (accessed 18 November 2010).

13. Continental Shelf Preliminary Information of Chile, http://www

.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/preliminary/chl2009

preliminaryinformation.pdf (accessed 18 November 2010).

14. United Kingdom, Note No. 168/08 (9 May 2008), http://www

.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/gbr08/gbr_nv_9may2008.

pdf (accessed 18 November 2010); Submission by United Kingdom of 

Great Britain and Northern Ireland, 11 May 2009, http://www.un.org/

Depts/los/clcs_new/submissions_files/submission_gbr_45_2009.htm (accessed 18 November 2010).

15. Permanent Mission of France to the United Nations, Note 

No.HR/cl No. 69, February 2009, http://www.un.org/Depts/los/clcs_new/

submissions_files/fra09/fra_note_feb2009e.pdf (accessed 18 November 

2010).

16. Bureau of Oceans and International Environmental and Scientific Affairs, “Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting XXXII, Washington, Ministerial Declaration on the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Antarctic 

Treaty,” 6 April 2009, http://www.state.gov/g/oes/rls/other/2009/121339

.htm (accessed 23 April 2010).

17. The IWC is considering a proposal that would reauthorize commercial whale hunting in exchange for reducing the number of whales 

killed each year. Not surprisingly, this has touched off a serious controversy between IWC members and environmentalists. See Juliet Eilperin, 

“Panel Proposes Whaling Ban Compromise,” Washington Post, A2, 24 

April 2010.

18. International Court of Justice, “Australia Institutes Proceedings 

against Japan for Alleged Breach of International Obligations Concerning Whaling,” Press Release No. 2010/16, 1 June 2010.
ABSTRACT. The Antarctic Treaty System promotes science as the basis for conserving 

and managing Antarctic resources. The 1980 Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic 

Marine Living Resources (CAMLR Convention) further advocates science, as well as a precautionary approach and ecosystem perspective to manage harvesting of Antarctic marine 

living resources. This review presents case studies to illustrate the CAMLR Commission’s 

(CCAMLR) use of science, precaution, and an ecosystem approach to managing Antarctic fisheries. The case studies illustrate CCAMLR’s use of small-scale management units, 

bycatch measures, spatial management measures, and ecosystem-directed initiatives. These 

various studies highlight the value of science to CCAMLR’s management efforts and the 

utility of CCAMLR as a model of large-scale marine ecosystem management.

INTRODUCTION

The 1959 Antarctic Treaty stands alone as an instrument of conflict prevention, strategic accommodation, and political cooperation, largely because of 

the sovereignty accommodations in Article IV (Zumberge and Kimball, 1986). 

Most notably, Articles II and III of the Antarctic Treaty provide for “freedom of 

scientific investigation in Antarctica” and promote “international cooperation 

in scientific investigation.” Consequently, the freedom of scientific investigation 

in Antarctica may be viewed as a key element in the Antarctic Treaty’s promotion of peace, cooperation, and the progress of all humankind.

However, things were not always this way. During the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, sealers and whalers hunted fur seals (Arctocephalus gazellae), 

elephant seals (Mirounga leonina), and the great whales (predominantly baleen 

whales, Baleonoptera spp.) in the Southern Ocean nearly to extinction.1

 Indeed, 

the Antarctic Treaty responds to this history by seeking to preserve and conserve 

the Antarctic’s living resources (Article IX, paragraph 1(f)).

Two subsequent agreements underscored the Antarctic Treaty’s conservation “ethic”: the 1964 Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic 

Fauna and Flora (Agreed Measures) and the 1972 Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals (CCAS). The latter aims to “promote and achieve the 

objectives of protection, scientific study and rational use of Antarctic seals, and 

to maintain a satisfactory balance within the ecological system.” Together, the 

Sustainable Management in the 

Southern Ocean: CCAMLR Science

Denzil Miller

Denzil Miller, Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies, University of Tasmania, Private Bag 

129, Hobart, TAS, 7001 Australia. Correspondence: denzilgmiller@gmail.com.
104 • science diplomacy

Antarctic Treaty, Agreed Measures, and CCAS became the 

founding elements of the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS).2

Extensive harvesting of finfish in the Subantarctic during the late 1960s and mid-1970s and an emerging interest in large-scale krill (Euphausia superba) exploitation 

raised concerns about fisheries sustainability in the Antarctic Treaty area (south of 60°S) and beyond. In response, 

Recommendation VIII-10 from the 1975 Eighth Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM VIII) noted the 

need to “promote and achieve within the framework of 

the Antarctic Treaty, the objectives of protection, scientific study and rational use of [Antarctic] marine living resources.” Again, the importance of science was recognised 

as a basis for the protection and rational (i.e., sustainable) 

use of such resources.

In 1977, the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR) and the Scientific Committee on Oceanic 

Research (SCOR) sponsored the Biological Investigations 

of Marine Antarctic Systems and Stocks (BIOMASS) program to “gain a deeper understanding of the structure 

and dynamic functioning of the Antarctic marine ecosystem as a basis for the future management of potential living resources” (El-Sayed, 1994:3). Together with 

three United Nations Food and Agriculture Organisation 

reports (Eddie, 1977; Everson, 1977; Grantham, 1977), 

BIOMASS highlighted the importance of krill as a keystone species in the Antarctic marine ecosystem.

Growing recognition of the ecosystem role of krill 

heightened concerns that its large-scale exploitation 

could have severe repercussions for Antarctic birds, seals, 

and whales that depend on it (Mitchell and Sandbrook, 

1980). Over the next eight years, BIOMASS sponsored 

substantial research (including the first large-scale acoustic assessment of krill abundance in 1981, the First International BIOMASS Experiment) to investigate the 

ecosystem vulnerability of unsustainable krill harvesting 

(El-Sayed, 1994).

At the same time, Recommendation IX-2 from the 

Ninth Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (1977) called 

on Treaty Parties to contribute to scientific research on 

Antarctic marine living resources, observe interim guidelines on their conservation, and schedule a special meeting 

to establish a conservation regime for these resources. This 

Second Special Antarctic Consultative Meeting comprised 

a series of meetings from 1978 to 1980 and concluded 

with the signing of the Convention on the Conservation 

of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CAMLR Convention, hereinafter referred to as the “Convention” unless 

otherwise indicated) in Canberra on 20 May 1980.3

 The 

Convention entered into force on 7 April 1982.

Although developed under the Antarctic Treaty’s patronage, the CAMLR Convention stands alone as a legally binding agreement, and its attached Commission has 

its own legal personality.4 The Convention applies to a 

broader area than the Antarctic Treaty and sets the northern boundary of the Antarctic marine ecosystem as the 

Antarctic Convergence, now known as the Antarctic Polar 

Front (Convention Article I) (Figure 1). The convergence 

is a circum-Antarctic, biogeographic boundary where 

cold, northward-flowing Antarctic waters sink beneath 

warmer southward-moving subtropical waters. South of 

the convergence, krill is the dominant species (Miller and 

Hampton, 1988) and therefore key to understanding and 

managing the Antarctic ecosystem.

Article I of the CAMLR Convention identifies Antarctic marine living resources as “populations of fin fish, 

molluscs, crustaceans and all other species of living organisms, including birds, found south of the Antarctic Convergence.” The Antarctic marine ecosystem is defined as 

the “complex of relationships of Antarctic marine living 

resources with each other and the physical environment.”

In the remainder of this paper, I use case studies to 

illustrate the crucial role of science in addressing the Convention’s key objectives. It will be shown that science has 

come to underpin CCAMLR’s standing as “the leader to 

follow” (Willock and Lack, 2006) in sustainable management of marine living resources.

CONVENTION OBJECTIVES 

AND THE ROLE OF SCIENCE

Convention Objectives

The Convention’s primary objective is “the conservation of Antarctic marine living resources” (Article II, 

paragraph 2), with the term “conservation” being considered to include “rational use.” Article II, paragraph 3, 

indicates that any harvesting and associated activities in 

the Convention area should be conducted in accordance 

with the Convention and with the principles of conservation outlined in paragraphs 3(a) to 3(c). These principles 

include

•	 “prevention of decrease in the size of any harvested 

population to levels below those which ensure its stable recruitment”;

•	 “maintenance of the ecological relationships between 

harvested, dependent and related populations of Antarctic marine living resources”; and
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 105

•	 “prevention of changes or minimisation of the risk of 

changes in the marine ecosystem which are not potentially reversible over two or three decades.”

The potential changes specifically identified include 

direct and indirect impacts of harvesting, the effects of 

alien (i.e., introduced) species, and the effects of environmental change(s). Under Article II, the management approach adopted by CCAMLR is characterised as being

•	 “precautionary,” which means that CCAMLR collects data as it can, then weighs the extent and effect 

of uncertainties and gaps (i.e., “deficiencies”) in such 

data before taking a management decision; and

•	 based on an “ecosystem” approach, which ideally 

takes into account the delicate and complex relationships between organisms (of all sizes) and physical 

processes (such as currents, sea temperature, etc.) that 

constitute or impact the Antarctic marine ecosystem.

The Convention thus not only regulates fishing for 

target species but also aims to ensure that “harvesting 

activity” does not compromise other species or harm the 

environment.

Since the Convention’s entry into force, the ecosystem and precautionary approaches in Article II have both 

directed and challenged CCAMLR’s conservation efforts 

(Constable et al., 2000; Miller, 2002). The ecological 

FIGURE 1. The CCAMLR area, showing boundaries, statistical areas, and fishing grounds.
106 • science diplomacy

uncertainties associated with full and effective implementation of the Convention’s provisions have forced 

innovative thinking to provide a holistic, scientific, and 

ecologically based approach to regulate fishing on target 

resources and minimise the indirect effects of harvesting 

on the Antarctic marine ecosystem as a whole.

The Role of Science

Article IX, paragraph 1(f), requires that CCAMLR 

Conservation Measures (CMs) be formulated, adopted, or 

revised on “the basis of the best scientific evidence available” subject to the provisions of paragraph 5 in the same 

article.5

 For that purpose, CCAMLR must take full account of any relevant measures or regulations adopted by 

the ATCM or by existing fisheries commissions that manage target species that enter the Convention area. This requirement raises questions as to what scientific evidence is 

required and how that evidence is to be integrated into the 

CCAMLR management process.

The Scientific Basis for CCAMLR Management

General Basis

The term “scientific evidence” in Convention Article 

IX, paragraph 1(f), implies that scientific information, or 

advice, should be formally presented to CCAMLR for management purposes. In 1990 (CCAMLR, 1990: paragraph 

7.6), the Commission clearly endorsed this assumption 

and agreed that “it should regard the Scientific Committee 

as the source of the best scientific evidence available,” an 

agreement that effectively endorses the provenance of the 

Scientific Committee’s scientific advice.6

One of the first scientific challenges faced by 

CCAMLR was to use a spatially explicit, iterative, interactive, and scientific process to describe the scale-dependent 

organization of species such as krill (Figure 2). To that 

end, CCAMLR’s approach to fishery management can be 

viewed as a series of interdependent ecological associations of which fishing (Miller, 2000), individual species, 

and their ecological interactions are bound in space and 

time. By specifically accounting for key ecological factors, 

this approach facilitates assessment of “ecosystem status” 

and “health,” as well as the scientific and systematic development of sustainable management measures for krill 

in particular (Everson, 2002).7

Much has been written about CCAMLR’s management approach (e.g. Agnew, 1997; Constable et al., 2000; 

Constable, 2002; Everson, 2002; Miller, 2002), and Figure 

3 summarises its early evolution for the krill fishery. Nevertheless, the question of how to manage fisheries in an 

ecosystem (i.e., multispecies) context is an ongoing and difficult issue, as well as one that particularly vexes CCAMLR 

(Constable, 2005).

CCAMLR Ecosystem Monitoring Program

The CCAMLR Ecosystem Monitoring Program 

(CEMP) was initiated in 1985 (Agnew, 1997) to improve 

CCAMLR’s understanding of potential interactions between fisheries, harvested species, and the environment. To 

follow an ecosystem-based management approach, Constable (2002) has indicated (Figure 4) that CCAMLR should 

take explicit account of harvesting on target, dependent, 

and related species. To that end, CEMP focuses on monitoring key life history parameters of selected dependent, or 

“indicator,” species likely to be affected by the availability 

of harvested species (Agnew, 1997; Miller, 2007).

Therefore, CCAMLR must not only take into account 

the best available scientific information in their quest to 

meet the Convention’s objectives, but also specifically 

allow for incomplete knowledge of ecosystem function(s) 

and uncertainty in the available information (Miller, 

2007). To the extent possible, actual resource use is preceded and/or accompanied by surveys to assess resource 

potential, to monitor resource status, and to provide for 

associated analyses of ancillary data. The approach is not 

to manage the Antarctic marine ecosystem per se but, 

rather, to regulate human activities (i.e., harvesting) in that 

system. Science is the means to achieve this operationally 

(Butterworth, 1986), a point well illustrated by the temporal and spatial confines of “biophysical” interactions and 

the “fishery” illustrated in Figure 2.

CCAMLR’s scientifically based management approach 

relies on four key actions to achieve the conservation principles outlined in Convention Article II, paragraph 3: (1) 

development of operational objectives (“measures”) to 

determine the desired/agreed status for relevant species or 

ecosystem features, (2) development of methods to assess 

ecosystem status, (3) elaboration of decision rules to control harvesting in a manner that meets the Convention’s 

objectives, and (4) development of methods to address 

uncertainty (including ecosystem functional [“physical 

world”] uncertainty). The outcomes of such an approach 

aim to establish scientific consensus in such a way that the 

consequence of various management actions can be identified and clearly understood.

To be effective, the CCAMLR management approach 

relies on clearly identified scientific requirements. In effect, 
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 107

FIGURE 2. The spatial and temporal structure of krill distribution in relation to other Antarctic marine ecosystem components, the physical environment, and the fishery (after Miller, 2002).
108 • science diplomacy

it highlights the need, mandated by Article II, to (1) apply 

correct and timely decisions consistent with CCAMLR 

conservation principles, (2) undertake monitoring of 

sufficient power to prevent harvests from negatively affecting dependent predators, (3) allow sufficient time to 

detect and rectify harvest-induced changes in the ecosystem within two or three decades, and (4) refine precautionary assessments of harvested stock yield to account 

for new estimates of key demographic parameters. The 

approach also requires that (5) the precautionary yield of 

a target species such as krill is equally divided into smallscale management units (SSMUs) of appropriate scale to 

improve predictive power and spread any risk of irreversible ecosystem changes and (6) the development of operational objectives for nonharvested species to account for 

uncertainties is associated with ecosystem function and 

dynamic relationships among predators, particularly between predators and prey. All these considerations require 

scientific definition, elaboration, and monitoring.

The overall CCAMLR management procedure thus 

comprises a set of rules to adjust harvest levels on the basis 

of scientifically objective assessments (Kock, 2000). These 

rules are sufficiently rigorous and flexible to ensure that 

the conservation objectives illustrated have a high probability of being met. In practice, the status (“health”) of the 

Antarctic marine ecosystem is effectively observed through 

monitoring (i.e., via CEMP). Ideally, regular assessments 

account for uncertainty associated with ecosystem function as well as potential relationships between monitoring 

and key ecosystem components and properties, including 

FIGURE 3. The CCAMLR’s management approach to address Convention Article II objectives (after Miller, 2002). See text for explanation of various acronyms and activities.
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 109

the physical environment. Full elaboration of the latter 

remains an important priority for CCAMLR in terms of 

fulfilling Convention Article II requirements.

CASE STUDIES

The case studies below outline CCAMLR’s approach 

to managing krill and finfish fisheries; they include aspects 

of ecosystem management and protection. In each case the 

scientific aspects of the various approaches are emphasised. Although Convention Article II objectives address 

an essentially “new management ethos” and “conservation ethic” (Hewitt and Linen Low, 2000), the various 

case studies clearly show that CCAMLR has not relied on 

a single management approach alone. Rather, associated 

decisions are scientifically driven, iterative, and ongoing in 

an effort to address the key conservation challenges being 

faced. These challenges include

•	 assessing and monitoring harvested populations;

•	 defining and quantifying ecological interactions between harvested and other species (either dependent 

on or related to them); and

•	 estimating levels of depletion in order to effectively 

monitor restoration of depleted populations.

Fisheries Management

Finfish

Large-scale finfish harvesting preceded the Convention’s entry into force and many stocks in the Convention area were seriously depleted by 1982 (Kock, 1992). 

Therefore, the first task CCAMLR faced was to seek scientific advice on sustainable catch levels for species other 

than krill (Agnew, 1997; Miller, 2002). Such advice initially came from available fishery data, and to determine 

catch limits, CCAMLR used Beverton and Holt’s (1957) 

approach to estimate the maximum sustainable yield. By 

1987, CCAMLR had begun to develop other measures to 

set fishing levels (Scientific Committee for the Conservation 

FIGURE 4. An ecosystem-based approach to manage effects of fishing on dependent and related species (adapted from Constable, 2002, with 

permission). Assessments (solid boxes) lead to decision rules for adjusting harvest controls to meet operational objectives. The physical world 

(dashed boxes) reflects ecosystem’s actual state as observed by monitoring (e.g., via CEMP). Assessments take into account the uncertainty about 

how the physical world functions as well as how the monitoring program and physical world are related.
110 • science diplomacy

of Antarctic Marine Living Resources [SC-CAMLR], 

1987). The introduction of F0.1 (see Hilborn and Walters, 

1992, for description) followed as a management standard 

for selected finfish species in the Convention area and fishery independent scientific survey data were used to “tune” 

estimates of stock yield (Kock, 2000).

In cases where stock assessments are data-scarce or 

where estimates of yield are largely uncertain, CCAMLR 

has come to mandate fishery-independent surveys as a prerequisite for opening any fishery. It also applies measures 

that ensure that fishery development proceeds at a pace 

commensurate with the ability to collect essential data for 

management (Sabourenkov and Miller, 2004).

During the early 1990s, CCAMLR became concerned 

that a management approach based on fishing mortality 

(F) alone might undermine Article II conservation principles if available yield(s) are not maximised and recruitment of young animals is compromised. As a consequence, 

CCAMLR began developing model-based approaches for 

dealing with uncertainty “unambiguously and unanimously” (Constable et al., 2000). These approaches are 

based on the conviction that spawning stock “escapement” is vital in determining sustainable levels of F (Kock, 

2000). They use scientifically based, stochastic projection 

methods to incorporate and account for uncertainty in key 

biological parameters and to allow for random recruitment fluctuations (Constable et al., 2000).

Krill

For various reasons, the CCAMLR scientific community quickly realised that a single-species management approach for the krill fishery would be unlikely to safeguard 

ecosystem health, given the species’ low trophic status, 

disparate distribution, and interactions with other species (Beddington and May, 1980; Miller, 2002). Recognising its management challenges, SC-CAMLR and the 

Committee developed an empirically based management 

procedure for krill comprising three inter-related elements 

(Miller, 1991): (1) collection and compilation of essential 

data, (2) analysis of such data to determine target stock 

status, and (3) ongoing action to align management objectives (including evaluation of analysed data and implementation of appropriate action).

The above procedures facilitated development of general 

concepts for implementing Article II provisions. These were 

accepted by SC-CAMLR and the Commission as being to

•	 keep the krill biomass at a level higher than might be 

the case if only single-species considerations are of 

concern so as to ensure sufficient krill escapement to 

meet reasonable predator requirements;

•	 accept that krill dynamics have a stochastic component and therefore focus on the lowest biomass that 

might occur over a future period, rather than on a 

mean biomass at the end of the period as might be the 

case in a single-species context; and

•	 ensure that any reduction of food to predators which 

may arise from krill harvesting does not affect landbased predators with restricted foraging ranges disproportionately compared to predators present in 

pelagic habitats.

The above concepts also provided the basis for the 

1994 adoption of pre-agreed decision rules for setting annual krill yield (Table 1) over time. These rules were based 

on Beddington and Cooke’s (1983) approach as modified 

by Butterworth et al. (1991). The modified approach is 

known as the krill yield model (KYM) and calculates annual krill yield (Y) as a proportion () of estimated preexploitation biomass (B0). Initially, the KYM allowed 

for more refined determinations of , using recruitment 

variability information from survey data, with particular attention being paid to the relationship between such 

TABLE 1. CCAMLR three-part decision rule for selecting the proportionality coefficient  value to set krill precautionary catch limits 

where yield (Y) is calculated as a proportion () of preexploitation biomass (Bo

) such that Y = Bo (SC-CAMLR, 1994).

 Proportionality

Rule Coefficient Action

1 1  is chosen so that the probability of the spawning stock biomass dropping below 20% of the 

preexploitation median level over a 20-year harvesting period is 10%

2 2  is chosen so that the median krill escapement over a 20-year harvesting period is 75%

3 lower of 1 or 2 The lower of 1 and 2 is selected as the level for  for the calculation of krill yield
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 111

variability and natural mortality (M) (de la Mare, 1994a, 

1994b).

The KYM-attached decision rules use a 75% krill 

escapement level as the midpoint between making no allowance for krill predator needs (i.e., treating krill as a 

single-species fishery with 50% escapement) or providing 

complete protection for predators (i.e., no fishery) (Miller 

and Agnew, 2000). Exploring the functional relationships between krill and its predators thus remains high on 

CCAMLR’s agenda with respect to direct, and indirect, interactions between the krill fishery, krill, and other species. 

Only with more complete knowledge of such functional 

relationships will it be possible to define krill escapement 

more precisely.

Generalised Management of Fisheries

Building on the KYM approach, Constable and de la 

Mare (1996) recognised that it was specifically tailored to 

assumptions concerning krill growth, fishing seasons, and 

the timing of spawning. Furthermore, yield could only be 

determined as a proportion of the estimated Bo

. Therefore, Constable and de la Mare developed a more generally structured model (general yield model [GYM]) (Table 

2) to allow flexibility in assessment of krill growth patterns, 

natural mortality, spawning, and fishing. The decision rules 

outlined in Table 1 were thus recast as general principles indicating that (1) escapement of the spawning stock is sufficient to avoid the likelihood of declining recruitment and (2) 

reserves of exploited harvest stock abundance are sufficient 

to fulfil dependent species (usually predators) needs. Stock 

trajectories can then be calculated from estimated levels of 

absolute recruitment (R) in relation to fishing mortality (F).

Although the GYM was specifically tailored for finfish 

assessments, its outputs for krill were remarkably similar 

to those of the KYM (Constable and de la Mare, 1996). 

Therefore, from 1994 onward, CCAMLR has used the 

GYM to determine long-term annual yields for harvested 

stocks in absolute terms rather than as a proportion of Bo

. 

Examples of CMs formulated using the generalised approach include CM 51-01 (krill fishing in CCAMLR Statistical Area 48) as well as CMs 41-20 and 41-03 for toothfish 

(Dissostichus eleginoides) fishing in the same area.8

The CCAMLR continues to refine the scientific basis 

of its finfish fishery management approach. More recently, 

it has sought to integrate diverse data sets within a generalised stock assessment “package” (Hillary et al., 2006; 

Candy and Constable, 2008). Such data include multiple 

fisheries catch-at-age proportions, fisheries-independent 

research survey data, and mark-recapture data from different fisheries. These techniques will undoubtedly improve 

future management efforts. Similarly, advances in determination of krill age, growth, and maturation (Brown et 

al., 2010; Virtue et al., 2010) have again raised interest 

in exploring age-based assessments of the species’ annual 

productivity and yield.

Illegal, Unreported, and Unregulated Fishing

Illegal, unreported, and unregulated (IUU) fishing has 

seriously undermined CCAMLR’s efforts to manage the 

Patagonian toothfish (Dissostichus eleginoides) fishery in 

the Indian Ocean (Agnew, 1999; Miller, 2007). As a result, 

total toothfish removals and fishery-related mortality (F) 

from the CCAMLR area are largely uncertain. In response, 

CCAMLR began to develop a standard methodology to 

estimate IUU catches in the Convention area (CCAMLR, 

2005: pars. 8.3, 8.4) in 2005. In 2007, CCAMLR agreed 

to continue using the traditional method developed by 

SC-CAMLR for estimating IUU catches, which is based on 

TABLE 2. Variation of the krill yield model and its later modification into the general yield model (after Miller, 2002).

Formula Key features Source

Y = 0.5MBo 0.5 too high due to uncertainties in estimating natural mortality (M) and Gulland (1971) formulation

recruitment (R)

Y = Bo Used for determining CCAMLR krill precautionary catch limits with  applied Butterworth et al. (1994)

as a single proportionality constant

Y = Bo Refinement of above with absolute recruitment (R) and natural mortality (M) Constable and de la Mare (1996)

being subsumed into a single calculated constant . The stock is tracked stochastically 

over a 20-year period with an appropriate yield level being selected by a three-part, 

conservatively applied decision rule to designate the  value (see Table 1)
112 • science diplomacy

vessel sightings and other information (CCAMLR, 2007: 

paragraph 10.51). More recently, CCAMLR has agreed 

to continue development of other methods, such as an 

index to determine the density of licensed vessels fishing 

on particular grounds. Clearly, procedures are needed to 

refine IUU vessel identification as well as systematically 

and objectively determining breakdowns in compliance 

with CCAMLR CMs.

Ecosystem Effects

General Effects

The SC-CAMLR recognised that krill fishing may 

cause intolerable variations in the trophic dynamics of 

Antarctic marine ecosystems (SC-CAMLR, 1995: Annex 

4; Constable et al., 2000). Although the KYM approach 

implicitly accounted for this possibility, CEMP was predicated on the assumption that the information it obtained 

could be used to predict the impact of different harvesting strategies and thereby provide an opportunity to avoid 

any serious deterioration in ecosystem health. To that end, 

CEMP would seek to improve understanding of relationships between fisheries, target species, and target species 

predators.

Over the past decade, the CCAMLR scientific community has sought to develop predictive models of such 

relationships to refine the decision rules used in conjunction with the KYM and GYM. These predictive models 

have provided a new basis for setting catch limits that 

do not pose significant risks to ecosystem predators (e.g., 

Constable, 2001, 2005; Hill et al., 2007). Such efforts are 

ongoing and important physical and biological interactions have been identified (SC-CAMLR, 1995, Annex 4). 

However, models estimating krill availability to predators remain limited (e.g., Murphy et al., 1988; Murphy, 

1995), and those examining the consequences of different 

levels of such availability are rare (e.g., Butterworth and 

Thomson, 1995; Mangel and Switzer, 1998). One notable 

advance has been the development of a framework (e.g., 

Constable, 2005) to evaluate krill management procedures in an ecosystem context. The framework is particularly noteworthy because it allows and, indeed, facilitates 

explicit assessment of uncertainty in the modelled systems.

Despite such advances, the explicit linkage of CEMPderived predator information, krill availability, and fishing 

activity remains elusive in the formulation of CCAMLR 

CMs aimed at fully addressing all the objectives of Convention Article II. As highlighted by Reid et al. (2008), 

work is still required to

•	 detect the effects of fishing on any process/ecosystem 

component in an operationally useful way and with 

respect to an agreed reference point(s),

•	 remain cognisant of appropriate trade-offs between 

CEMP aims and prevailing uncertainty about ecosystem function, and

•	 promote a realistic appreciation of CEMP’s ability to 

provide data relevant to a specific management objective for the krill fishery or krill-associated predators.

Small-Scale Management Units

The CCAMLR krill CMs require precautionary 

catch limits to be subdivided into smaller spatial management units known as SSMUs (Figure 5).9

 A set of candidate options have been proposed for such subdivision in 

CCAMLR Area 48 (West Atlantic; Constable and Nicol, 

2002; Hewitt et al., 2004). Hill et al. (2007) have compiled parameters for various available krill ecosystem dynamic models to assess options based on plausible limits 

for parameter values. This complex work continues despite the perception that the krill fishery is expanding now 

and will continue to expand in the future. The studies involved may help resolve some of the concerns identified 

by Everson (2002) regarding fishery, krill, and predator 

interactions, as well as a reduction in krill availability due 

to shifts in the species’ distribution (SC-CAMLR, 1990, 

1994; Murphy, 1995).

Once krill catches reach a “trigger,” the total allowable catch set in CCAMLR CM 51-01 is to be subdivided 

into smaller areas (including SSMUs). Anticipating growth 

in the krill fishery, SC-CAMLR and the Committee advised that the 620,000 tonne trigger in CM 51-01 could 

be concentrated in a single area (SC-CAMLR, 2009: 

pars. 4.26, 4.28). However, this would increase the risk 

of significant adverse impacts on krill-dependant predators, especially those that are land based (SC-CAMLR, 

2009: pars. 3.126–3.132). With that concern in mind, 

SC-CAMLR and the Committee have advised the Commission to spatially distribute krill fishing effort to avoid 

large catches in restricted areas as the trigger level is approached. Five models have been provided to distribute 

the krill trigger level over CCAMLR Statistical Area 48 

(SC-CAMLR, 2009: table 1). Drawing on this approach, 

the Commission agreed to an interim measure (CM 51-

09) to distribute the trigger level proportionately between 

Statistical Subareas 48.1 and 48.4 (CCAMLR, 2009: pars. 

12.60, 12.61). This interim measure will lapse at the end 

of the 2010/2011 fishing season but will be kept under 

review by SC-CAMLR and the Commission.
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 113

Bycatch

The SC-CAMLR and the Commission also have been 

concerned about fisheries bycatch. Fortunately, CCAMLR’s 

management of seabird bycatch during toothfish longline 

fishing (CM 25-02) has been a notable success (Miller, 

2007). The number of seabirds incidentally caught has 

been dramatically reduced from tens of thousands in the 

CCAMLR area a decade and a half ago to a few individual 

birds. Similar measures have reduced the entanglement of 

seals and other animals (CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 6.4) 

in fishing devices (e.g., nets and pots) as well as marine 

debris. Scientific observers appointed under the CCAMLR 

International Scheme of Scientific Observation play an 

important role in monitoring incidental seabird bycatch, 

deploying mitigation devices, and educating fishers to the 

dangers of fisheries-induced mortality caused by the direct 

effects of fishing activity on nontarget species.10

A notable exception to the above has been in the 

French exclusive economic zone around Kerguelen and 

the Crozet Islands, where more than 1,000 birds were 

taken annually (SC-CAMLR, 2008: paragraph 5.3) until 

a dramatic improvement in the application of mitigation 

measures over the past two years (CCAMLR, 2009: paragraphs 6.5–6.8).

Other measures to monitor and mitigate fishery bycatch include reporting procedures (e.g., CM 41-08, 

Annex 41-08A, paragraph iv), bycatch limits or proportions (CM 41-02, paragraphs 6 and 7), and “move-on” 

rules when bycatch is encountered (CM 41-02, paragraph 

8). One of SC-CAMLR’s scientific working groups evaluates these measures periodically to provide appropriate 

advice as needed. Directed scientific studies continue to 

assess the species that are, or may be, taken as fisheries 

bycatch (e.g., the 2009 “Year of the Skate”; CCAMLR, 

2008: paragraph 4.55).

Spatial Management

General Management

Apart from SSMUs, CCAMLR is considering, or has 

initiated, a number of spatially bound measures to address the precautionary and ecosystem-directed elements 

FIGURE 5. Small-scale management units (SSMUs) in CCAMLR Statistical Area 48.1. From SCCAMLR (2002: Annex 4, Appendix D, fig. 37).
114 • science diplomacy

of Article II. One such measure (CM 26-01), applied to 

the entire CCAMLR area, aims to minimise the risks of 

alien-species contamination and marine pollution from 

fishing vessels. This measure has established specific controls on dumping, or discharge, and the translocation of 

poultry in the Convention area south of 60°S, where the 

effects of such events are likely to be most acutely felt. The 

measure has been recently modified to refine definitions of 

“offal,” “discards,” “releases,” and “benthic” organisms 

(CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 12.28).

Additional measures (e.g., CM 91-01) protect CEMP 

sites, and others set ice-strengthening requirements for fishing vessels at high latitude (Resolution 20/XXII), general 

vessel safety standards (Resolution 23/XXIII), and ballastwater exchange restrictions (Resolution 28/XXVII). Most 

recently, Resolution 29/XXVIII urges CCAMLR members 

to ratify the 1989 International Convention on Salvage, or 

any other measures deemed appropriate, to facilitate the 

recovery of reasonable expenses incurred by vessel operators assisting other vessels, or other property in danger, in 

the CCAMLR area (CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 12.87). 

All such measures have drawn on advice from SC-CAMLR 

and the Committee in terms of mitigating potential dangers to the Antarctic marine environment.

Small-Scale Research Units

The CCAMLR has developed small-scale research 

units (SSRUs) to spread the risk of spatially concentrated 

fishing when scientific knowledge of the stock(s) concerned 

is limited (e.g., CM 41-09, paragraph 3). Such units were 

initially applied to experimental crab fisheries (CCAMLR: 

1993, paragraph 8.36, CM 75/XII; Watters, 1997) but 

have since been expanded to various exploratory toothfish fisheries (CM 41-05, fig. 1; Figure 6). They not only 

impose a degree of precaution but also promote collection 

of essential operational data from the fishery, often a responsibility of the CCAMLR scientific observers aboard 

the vessels involved. In these terms, the use of SSRUs may 

be viewed as an inexpensive alternative to research vessel 

surveys as data may be consistently gathered from wide 

areas, with scientific observers providing the necessary scientific objectivity to render such data worthwhile.

Marine Protected Areas

Over the past decade, CCAMLR has considered 

implementing spatial management measures to facilitate biodiversity conservation consistent with targets set 

by the 2002 World Summit on Sustainable Development 

(WSSD). The CCAMLR and the Committee for Environmental Protection (CEP) have afforded high priority to 

the designation of Southern Ocean marine areas for biodiversity conservation (CCAMLR, 2004: paragraph 4.13; 

CEP, 2006: paragraphs 94–101).11 In 2007 CCAMLR 

sponsored a workshop to develop benthic and pelagic bioregionalisations (CCAMLR, 2007: paragraphs 7.3–7.19) 

based on the results of a World Wildlife Fund–Peregrine 

Travel sponsored meeting of experts in 2006 (Grant et al.,

2006).12 These bioregionalisations are being used to design a representative network of CCAMLR marine protected areas (MPAs).

In 2007, CCAMLR also agreed to continue consolidating the scientific rationale for the above MPA network 

(CCAMLR, 2007: paragraph 7.18). It agreed that the 

network should focus on, but not be limited to, 11 priority areas identified by SC-CAMLR and the Committee 

(CCAMLR, 2008: paragraph 7.2(vi); SC-CAMLR, 2008: 

Annex 4, fig. 12; Figure 7a). Development of the network is ongoing and draws on a work plan outlined by 

SC-CAMLR (2008: paragraph 3.55). The network also is 

an important topic in the ongoing dialogue between SCCAMLR and the Committee, and the CEP (CEP, 2009a; 

2009b). Most significantly, the 2009 CCAMLR meeting 

adopted CM 91-03 (Figure 7b), which will contribute to 

FIGURE 6. Small-scale research units (SSRUs) in the CCAMLR 

area. From CCAMLR CM 41-01.
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 115

biodiversity conservation in Subarea 48.2 (South Orkney 

Islands), as well as to a network of protected areas across 

the CCAMLR area (SC-CAMLR, 2009: pars. 3.14–3.19; 

CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 12.86). The biodiversity conservation area in Subarea 48.2 is one of the first of its kind 

to be adopted for the high seas and illustrates the value 

of science in the conservation of marine living resources. 

Conversely, some view CM 91-03 as little more than a 

compromise arrangement which required the originally 

proposed area to be reduced to avoid the inclusion of potential fishing grounds (CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 7.17). 

Nevertheless, there is general agreement that the measure 

itself is an important milestone toward the achievement of 

FIGURE 7b. The CCAMLR South Orkney Islands Southern Shelf 

Marine Protected Area. Depth contours are at 1000 m intervals 

(CCAMLR CM 91-03).

FIGURE 7a. The CCAMLR priority areas for identifying marine protected areas (MPAs) as part of a representative network of such sites 

(CCAMLR, 2008). Numbers refer to area and are not in priority order. 1, Western Antarctic Peninsula; 2, South Orkney Islands; 3, South Sandwich Islands; 4, South Georgia; 5, Maud Rise; 6, eastern Weddell Sea; 7, Prydz Bay; 8, Banzare Bank; 9, Kerguelen; 10, northern Ross Sea/East 

Antarctica; 11, Ross Sea Shelf. From SC-CAMLR (2008: Annex 4, fig. 12). X—South Orkney Islands MPA (see Figure 7b and text for details).
116 • science diplomacy

a representative system of MPAs within the Convention 

area by 2012 (CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 7.19).

Vulnerable Marine Ecosystems

United Nations General Assembly (UNGA) Resolution 61/105 (UNGA, 2007) calls upon Regional Fisheries 

Management Organizations or Arrangements (RFMO/As) 

to close areas to bottom fishing until appropriate measures are in place to prevent significant adverse impacts 

on vulnerable marine ecosystems (VMEs). The resolution 

(UNGA, 2007: paragraph 83) urged RFMO/As to implement relevant VME measures by 31 December 2008. Despite a recent increase in research (Brandt et al., 2007), the 

data available for managing benthic fauna in the Southern 

Ocean remains sparse.

The CCAMLR responded to the UNGA resolution by 

formulating CMs 22-06 and 22-07. The CM 22-06 freezes 

the current bottom fishing footprint to areas approved for 

such fisheries in the 2006/2007 fishing season. The CM 

22-07 provides a format for identifying VMEs encountered during scientific research cruises, defines a VME 

“encounter” during fishing operations, and describes the 

resulting action to be taken by a vessel. Two such notifications were made in 2008 (CCAMLR, 2008).

To determine when a VME has been encountered under 

CM 22-06, vessels are required to monitor the catch of agreed 

VME indicator organisms in an identified sampling segment. When 10 or more VME indicator units are recovered 

in one segment, the area is considered a “VME risk area,” 

and vessels are required to complete hauling in the area and 

immediately communicate its location to CCAMLR and 

their flag state. On receiving this information, CCAMLR 

then notifies all fishing vessels in the fishery (and their flag 

states) that the area is closed to fishing.

Longline fishing targeting toothfish under CM 22-07 

took place in seven CCAMLR subareas/divisions between 

December 2008 and February 2009. The highest fishing 

effort occurred in Subareas 88.1 and 88.2 in the Ross Sea, 

and seven VME risk areas (five in Subarea 88.1 and two 

in Subarea 88.2) were closed to fishing (Table 3). During 

the same period, eight notifications were received from a 

single “near-miss” area in Subarea 88.2.13 In the five Subarea 88.1 VME risk areas, sponges (Porifera) were the 

dominant VME indicators, with lesser amounts of stony 

corals (Scleractinia) being present in three areas. In the 

two Subarea 88.2 VME risk areas, hydrocorals (Anthoathecatae) were the dominant VME indicator organisms, 

with sea fans/sea whips (Gorgonacea) also occurring.

At its 2009 meeting SC-CAMLR reviewed these data, 

as well as application of CM 22-07, to provide the Commission with relevant advice. It noted that CCAMLR scientific observers played a key role in implementing the CMs 

concerned. In addition to the information outlined in the 

previous paragraph, it was recognised that the CCAMLR 

Secretariat had received 30 VME indicator notifications, 

of which seven notifications consisted of at least 10 VME 

indicator units. This had resulted in seven risk areas being 

declared in Subareas 88.1 and 88.2 (SC-CAMLR, 2009: 

Annex 5, paragraph 10.29). In taking this information 

into account, CCAMLR urged the Scientific Committee 

and its working groups to carefully consider the practical 

aspects of implementing recommendations arising from 

its work (CCAMLR, 2009: paragraph 5.10). It therefore 

seems prudent to conclude that CCAMLR’s approach to 

VME’s remains under development and that care needs to 

TABLE 3. CCAMLR vulnerable marine ecosystems (VME) risk areas for longline fisheries in 2008/2009.

Risk area midpoint Number of VME

Subarea/division Date notified Latitude Longitude indicator units VME indicator taxa

88.1a 7 January 2009 75° 08.70S 176° 04.98W 60 Porifera, Scleractinia

7 January 2009 75° 08.52S 176° 07.14W 69 Porifera, Scleractinia

7 January 2009 75° 12.10S 175° 55.10W 25 Porifera, Scleractinia, Actinaria

15 January 2009 71° 34.90S 172° 11.40E 11 Porifera, Anthoathecatea, Gorgonacea

15 January 2009 71° 40.60S 172° 15.40E 13 Porifera, Anthoathecatea

88.2b 19 January 2009 69° 07.98S 123° 41.34W 10 Anthoathecatea, Gorgonacea

 19 January 2009 69° 08.04S 123° 43.86W 10 Anthoathecatea, Gorgonacea

a Longline fishing effort reflected as the number of hooks deployed = 5749982. b Longline fishing effort reflected as the number of hooks deployed = 2751260.
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 117

be taken to ensure that that the current CMs (CMs 22-06 

and 22-07) are not viewed as “having done the job.” In 

these terms, CM 22-07 is truly an interim measure.

Ecosystem Status

CEMP Indices

As indicated, ecosystem assessments of krill predators 

have been on CCAMLR’s agenda since 1997. These entail 

examining trends in the predator parameters collected by 

CEMP and then applying various models to explain the 

trends. Key parameters are those that provide information 

on target species (i.e., notably krill), the physical environment (e.g., sea surface temperature and sea ice extent), 

and predators of the target species (i.e., CEMP-measured 

parameters).

While de la Mare and Constable (2000) have developed ways to summarise many CEMP parameters into a 

single metric, deciding what action to take in response to 

changes in parameter values or the single metric remains a 

challenge. For this purpose, the detection of extreme values in a naturally varying system is as important as detecting anomalous trends caused by fishing (Constable et 

al., 2000; Constable, 2001). The ongoing development of 

more-objective approaches to scaling CCAMLR management decisions thus remains under consideration. As Reid 

et al. (2008) have emphasised, some evaluation of risk in 

terms of identifying the consequence of type I and type II 

errors is essential, as illustrated by Field et al. (2004). Unfortunately, a clear strategy for applying such evaluations 

remains elusive in terms of selecting an appropriate level 

of statistical significance (a) and power to categorise any 

detected change in CEMP indices as a function of fishing.

Climate Change

The CCAMLR has recently tasked SC-CAMLR with 

addressing the issue of climate change in relation to conservation of Antarctic marine living resources (CCAMLR, 

2007: paragraph 15.36). To that end, SC-CAMLR (SCCAMLR, 2008: paragraph 7.13) has indicated that it 

should examine (1) the robustness of its advice and stock 

assessments, particularly with regard to predicting future 

population responses to climate change, (2) the need to 

improve current monitoring programs for harvested and 

other species to provide timely, robust indicators of climate 

change impacts, and (3) whether CCAMLR’s management 

objectives and performance indicators should be modified to reflect the uncertainty regarding climate change 

effects. The matter remains a high priority for CCAMLR, 

and Resolution 30/XXVIII, adopted in late 2009, urges 

consideration of climate change impacts in the Southern 

Ocean to better inform CCAMLR management decisions.

CONCLUSIONS

Within the ATS, science may be viewed as the observation, identification, description, experimental investigation, and theoretical explanation of phenomena. This 

paper illustrates the essential value of science to sustainable management, and the case studies provide a number 

of important lessons.

First, and in CCAMLR terms, “the best scientific 

evidence available” and “sustainable management” are 

essentially equivalent in that the latter will fail in the absence of the former. Second, at an organizational level 

CCAMLR has developed a way of doing business that not 

only promotes consensus but also serves to underpin its 

status as a successful “new generation” agreement (Miller 

et al., 2004). While its many advances owe their existence 

to the strong spirit of cooperation between the CCAMLR 

members, these advances have been hard-won and have 

required a coherent, adaptable, and decision-driven management approach over the years (Miller et al., 2004). The 

work of SC-CAMLR has had a major role to play in this 

regard.

Third, many of the Convention’s objectives have 

been addressed and met, even when there is very little 

supporting information available and knowledge of ecosystem functioning is limited. Fourth, fisheries within the 

CCAMLR area can be managed using a precautionary, 

ecosystem-based approach, the krill fishery being the most 

notable example. Fifth, CCAMLR has been able to develop scientifically based management despite uncertainty 

about important parameters and ecosystem behaviour; the 

VME approach is a clear example of this.

Sixth, science provides an iterative and robust framework for developing and implementing rigorously defined, 

management action. As stipulated in Convention Article 

XV, SC-CAMLR constitutes “a forum for consultation 

and co-operation concerning the collection, study and exchange of information with respect to the marine living 

resources to which the Convention applies.” The Committee has also encouraged and promoted scientific cooperation to expand knowledge about Antarctic marine living 

resources and the associated ecosystem.

However, there is still work to be done! Plausible 

models are needed to guide management procedures in the 
118 • science diplomacy

face of the Antarctic marine ecosystem’s “unknown and 

uncertain behaviors” (Constable et al., 2000). Expansion 

of the krill fishery is a very real possibility, and finalization 

of SSMUs has become a matter of growing urgency (Gascón and Werner, 2009). Equally, the majority of CCAMLR 

members have recognised the urgent need to subdivide 

krill areal catch limits within CCAMLR Statistical Area 

48 (West Atlantic) to minimise risks associated with localised overfishing and associated ecosystem effects. Although this is a key concern, only an interim measure (CM 

51-09) has been agreed by CCAMLR to date.

The CCAMLR further needs to articulate and set operational objectives for predators (Constable, 2002). This 

requires assessing the plausibility and furthering the development of ecosystem and food web models (Constable, 

2005). Most importantly, the management procedures already in place must be evaluated prior to any appreciable 

increase in the krill fishery (Gascón and Werner, 2009). 

At the same time, decision rules associated with these and 

any new procedures should be tested and improved as 

needed. Such rules need to be robust to uncertainty and 

consistent, with objectively defined and clearly articulated 

operational criteria.

Despite the clear need for adaptability, CCAMLR has 

proven itself successful in addressing many of the ecological issues facing fisheries in other parts of the world’s 

oceans. It has used science to overcome many challenges 

in ways consistent with the Antarctic Treaty’s aspirations. 

As an innovative global leader in marine ecosystem management, CCAMLR warrants its status as an organization 

based on best practices in science and management (Lodge 

et al., 2007). The extensive research documented in the 

journal CCAMLR Science attests to the vast contribution 

that science has made to the formulation of the organization’s conservation policies and management measures.14

As De Cesari (1996:455) maintains, “The regulation of 

circumpolar waters falls under the legal ambit of the Antarctic Treaty System which aims to preserve and protect 

the right of Contracting Parties to conduct marine scientific research in the Southern Ocean”.

The recently adopted CCAMLR Resolution 31/

XXVIII (CCAMLR, 2009: pars. 12.90–12.93) highlights 

the role of science as fundamental to CCAMLR’s work. 

This role is consistent with the vision espoused in Convention Article IX, which was renewed by the 1990 CCAMLR 

Working Group for the Development of Approaches to 

Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources. In 

Resolution 31/XXVIII, formal recognition of the value of 

science in CCAMLR’s day-to-day activities comes of age, 

as does its inclusion in the very fabric of the commission’s 

policy decisions. Coupled with CCAMLR’s clearly stated 

policy to enhance cooperation with Non-Contracting Parties,15 the recent innovative, and far-reaching, steps taken 

by the commission to build scientific capacity within the 

organization (CCAMLR, 2009: pars. 16.8–16.11) stand 

out as a clear indication of science’s inestimable value to 

the organization’s work.

Acknowledgments

The views expressed in this chapter are those of the 

author and do not reflect the official views or decisions of 

the Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine 

Living Resources (CCAMLR). The author thanks Natasha 

Slicer for her constructive comments during the chapter’s 

development.

NOTES

1. In this chapter the Southern Ocean is the area defined in CAMLR 

Convention Article I. The Convention also applies to the Antarctic Treaty 

area south of 60°S; see CCAMLR Web site, Basic Documents section, http://

www.ccamlr.org/pu/e/e_pubs/bd/toc.htm (accessed 17 November 2010).

2. The Antarctic Treaty System comprises the international arrangements underpinning relations among states in the Antarctic.

3. Unless otherwise qualified, specific Articles of the Convention 

will be referred to by number as “Article [X].”

4. The Commission (CCAMLR) is established under Article VII of the 

CAMLR Convention. It is the Convention’s executive arm (see note 5) and 

has legal personality under Article VIII. The Commission’s functions and 

responsibilities are outlined in Article IX, with a key function being to 

promulgate conservation measures (CMs).

5. The CCAMLR CMs are outlined in Convention Article IX, 

paragraphs 1 and 2. Their adoption by consensus (Article XII) follows 

procedures in Convention Article IX, paragraph 3. They are found on 

the CCAMLR Web site, http://www.ccamlr.org/pu/e/e_pubs/cm/drt.htm 

(accessed 17 November 2010).

6. The CAMLR Scientific Committee (SC-CAMLR) was established under Article XIV of the Convention. It functions (Article XV) as 

a “forum for consultation and co-operation concerning the collection, 

study and exchange of information” on the resources to which the Convention applies.

7. “Ecosystem health” in CCAMLR is taken to be the provision 

of adequate safeguards for harvested species so that harvesting does 

not prejudice the long-term future of dependent species. An “ecosystem 

assessment” is necessary to ensure that all the management requirements of Convention Article II are met in an operational sense (Everson, 2002).

8. The CCAMLR CMs in force for any year may be found on the 

CCAMLR Web site, http://www.ccamlr.org/pu/e/e_pubs/cm/drt.htm (accessed 17 November 2010).

9. Small-scale management units (SSMUs) are defined in CCAMLR 

(2002: paragraph 4.5) using an agreed and scientifically objective approach (SC-CAMLR, 2002: Annex 4, Appendix D).
miller / SUSTAINABLE MANAGEMENT IN THE SOUTHERN OCEAN • 119

10. See CCAMLR, “Text of the CCAMLR Scheme of International 

Scientific Observation,” http://www.ccamlr.org/pu/e/e_pubs/cm/08-09/

obs.pdf (accessed 17 November 2010).

11. The CEP was set up under Article 11 of the 1991 Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty.

12. “Bioregionalisation” is an objective, usually scientific, process 

that identifies the spatial boundaries of bioregions on the basis of ecological attributes, such as geology, ocean currents, and biota (National 

Oceans Office, 2002).

13. A “near-miss” area is considered to be an area where five or 

more VME indicator units are recovered within one line segment, within 

a single fine-scale rectangle as per paragraphs 5 and 7 of CM 22-07.

14. Despite a specialised, CCAMLR-centric content, CCAMLR Science has an impact factor of 1.389. It is ranked 19th out of 40 fisheries 

journals in Thomson’s Journal Citation Reports Science Edition. This 

ranking compares with the ICES Journal of Marine Science’s 10th ranking and impact factor of 1.661.

15. See CCAMLR, “Policy to Enhance Cooperation between 

CCAMLR and Non-Contracting Parties,” http://www.ccamlr.org/pu/

e/e_pubs/cm/09-10/coop.pdf (accessed 19 November 2010).

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ABSTRACT. The ozone layer forms a thin shield in the stratosphere, protecting life on 

Earth from harmful ultraviolet radiation. Emissions of ozone-depleting substances (ODS) 

used in many sectors (such as refrigeration, air-conditioning, foams, and firefighting) destroy stratospheric ozone. Increased ultraviolet radiation from major depletion of stratospheric ozone can cause increases in skin cancer and cataracts, weaken the human immune 

systems, damage some agricultural crops, impact natural ecosystems, and degrade materials such as plastic. The Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer 

seeks worldwide phaseout of the production and consumption of ODS. Scientists confirmed that the protocol is working and that the ozone layer is on its way to recovery 

around the year 2050. Science and technology, including research at Antarctic stations 

proving that manufactured chemicals destroy stratospheric ozone and cause the Antarctic 

ozone hole, played important roles in the evolution and success of the protocol. Scientists 

provided early warning about the issue, discovered the Antarctic ozone hole, and linked 

it to CFC emissions and, along with nongovernmental organizations and the media, informed the public. The United Nations Environment Programme facilitated negotiations 

by governments. Science and technology panels of the protocol verified the performance of 

and facilitated periodical strengthening of the protocol. The scientific findings stimulated 

and motivated industry to innovation of alternatives to ODS. The protocol promoted universal participation, early action, continuous learning, and progressively tougher action. 

The protocol’s Multilateral Fund and its implementing agencies assisted developing countries through technology transfer, creation of national focal points and networks, training, 

and introduction of regulations and policies.

INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty of 1959, one of the first treaties to protect global 

commons, formalized scientific cooperation, set aside Antarctica as a scientific 

preserve, established freedom of scientific investigation, and banned military 

activity on the Antarctic continent.

The Vienna Convention for the Protection of the Ozone Layer, 1985, and 

its Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer, 1987, promote global cooperation to meet the global threat of stratospheric ozone depletion. The Antarctic Treaty was a research platform for the science that later 

proved essential for the protection of the ozone layer. The Antarctic is (1) the 

Science and Diplomacy: 

Montreal Protocol on Substances 

that Deplete the Ozone Layer

K. Madhava Sarma and Stephen O. Andersen

K. Madhava Sarma (deceased), United Nations 

Environment Programme and Montreal Protocol Technology and Economic Assessment 

Panel, Chennai, India. Stephen. O. Andersen, 

Montreal Protocol Technology and Economic 

Assessment Panel, 2317 North Road, Barnard, 

Vermont 05031-0257, USA. Correspondence: 

Anderson, soliverandersen@aol.com.
124 • science diplomacy

first place on Earth were ozone depletion was observed to 

be depleted at alarming rates, (2) the location of an alarming “ozone hole” that inspired the global action, (3) the 

place where scientists established the link between CFCs 

and ozone depletion, and (4) the place from where important data will continue to be generated on the expected 

recovery of the ozone layer.

The ozone layer forms a thin shield in the stratosphere, protecting life on Earth from the harmful effects 

of excessive ultraviolet radiation (UV). Emissions of 

human-made ozone-depleting substances (ODS) transported by the wind to the stratosphere release chlorine 

and bromine atoms that destroy ozone. Excessive UV radiation increases the risk of skin cancer, weakens human 

immune systems, damages crops and natural ecosystems, 

and degrades paint and plastic.1

 Most of these ODS are 

also greenhouse gases that contribute to climate change, 

causing glacier melting and sea level rise, and changes in 

precipitation and temperature.2

Ozone-depleting CFCs were invented in 1928 by a 

technologist working for General Motors and were marketed by DuPont to replace ammonia, sulphur dioxide, 

and other flammable and toxic refrigerants. CFCs are nonreactive and nonflammable, have low toxicity, and have a 

long atmospheric life. They were considered wonder gases 

and quickly became favored as in many applications.

By the late 1980s, more than 250 separate product 

categories were made with, or contained, ODS. Many of 

these products had become vital to society.

The more critical uses of ODSs included medical applications (metered-dose medicine inhalers and sterilisation); refrigeration; air-conditioning; foam; solvents for 

cleaning of electronic and mechanical components; soil, 

building, and commodity fumigation; and fire protection.

The Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer (Montreal Protocol) of 1987, as 

amended from time to time, has been hailed as the most 

successful environmental agreement ever. This is the only 

international agreement with participation of all 196 

countries of the world. A pattern of fruitful collaboration 

has been established between scientists, governments, 

nongovernmental organizations (NGOs), media, and UN 

organizations: science leading to understanding, understanding leading to policy, policy leading to implementation, and implementation leading to global environmental 

protection.

If there were no Montreal Protocol, the chlorine and 

bromine in the atmosphere would be, by the year 2065, 40 

times higher than its natural level. Total ozone would have 

decreased by two-thirds, which would have ultimately 

resulted in many more millions of cases of skin cancer and 

cataracts and would have irreparably damaged agriculture 

and ecosystems. The reasons for the success of the protocol may be summarized as

•	 the strong role played by scientists and technologists 

in the foundation and evolution of the protocol,

•	 the development and deployment of ozone-safe technologies by industry, and

•	 the protocol regime facilitating universal participation and transferring ozone-safe technologies expeditiously to developing countries on fair terms.

SCIENCE AS A SOURCE 

OF EARLY WARNING

Scientists have known the importance of the ozone 

layer from 1930, and some countries regularly monitored 

the atmospheric ozone. In preparation for the International Geophysical Year in 1957–1958, a worldwide network of scientific stations was developed to measure ozone 

profiles and the total column abundance of ozone using a 

scientific instrument and procedure pioneered by Gordon 

M. B. Dobson. The World Meteorological Organization 

(WMO) established the framework for ozone-observing 

projects, related research, and publications; this network 

eventually became the Global Ozone Observing System, 

with approximately 140 monitoring stations. The British, 

Japanese, and North American scientific stations in Antarctica in 1957 installed ozone monitors, which eventually 

recorded the high depletion of the stratospheric ozone that 

is called the Antarctic ozone hole.

In 1970, Paul Crutzen of the Netherlands demonstrated the importance of catalytic loss of ozone by the 

reaction of nitrogen oxides and theorized that chemical 

processes that affect atmospheric ozone can begin on the 

surface of the Earth.3

 Nitrogen oxide emissions result 

from industrial and medical processes and, to a small extent, from use of NO2

-propelled aerosol products. They 

are also formed in the atmosphere through chemical reactions involving nitrous oxide (N2

O), which originates 

from microbiological transformations on the ground. 

Therefore, Crutzen theorized increasing atmospheric concentration of nitrous oxide from the use of agricultural 

fertilizers might lead to reduced ozone levels. At the same 

time, James Lovelock of the United Kingdom measured 

air samples in the North and South Atlantic and reported 

in 1973 that CFCs had been detected in every one of his 

samples, wherever and whenever they were sought.4
S arma / PROTOCOL ON OZONE- DEPLETING SUBSTANCES • 125

In 1971, Harold Johnston of the United States showed 

that the nitrogen oxides produced in the high-temperature 

exhaust of the proposed fleet of SSTs could contribute significantly to ozone loss by releasing the nitrogen oxides directly into the stratospheric ozone layer.5

 In 1972, Crutzen 

elaborated on this theory with a paper that explained the 

process by which ozone is destroyed in the stratosphere, 

and presented estimates of the ozone reduction that could 

result from the operation of supersonic aircraft.6

Another American, James McDonald, theorized in 

1971 that even a small change in the abundance of stratospheric ozone could have significant effects in transmitting 

more ultraviolet radiation to the surface of the Earth, affecting the incidence of skin cancer. In March 1971, the 

U.S. House of Representatives voted not to continue funding development of the American SST. Subsequently, in 

1974, the U.S. Department of Transportation completed 

the first comprehensive scientific assessment of stratospheric ozone depletion called the “Climatic Impact Assessment Program—CIAP.” In 1973, Pan Am and TWA 

cancelled their orders for Concorde SSTs. Only British 

Airways and Air France purchased Concorde aircraft for 

routes across the Atlantic Ocean. Recently, for reasons of 

safety, all Concorde flights have been discontinued.

Mario J. Molina and F. Sherwood Rowland, two 

chemists at the University of California at Irvine, were 

the first to study CFCs as a possible source of chlorine 

in the stratosphere. CFCs refer to all fully halogenated 

compounds containing chlorine, fluorine, and carbon. In a 

paper published in the 28 June 1974 issue of Nature, Molina and Rowland hypothesized that when CFCs reach the 

stratosphere, ultraviolet radiation causes them to decompose and release chlorine atoms, which, in turn, become 

part of a chain reaction; as a result of the chain reaction, 

a single chlorine atom would destroy as many as 100,000 

molecules of ozone.7

 Rowland and Molina estimated that 

“if industry continued to release a million tons of CFCs 

into the atmosphere each year, atmospheric ozone would 

eventually drop by 7 to 13 percent.”

SCIENCE AS A FORCE FOR CHANGE

Rowland and Molina did not rest with their theoretical discoveries. They foresaw the danger to the planet and, 

with the encouragement of the Natural Resources Defense 

Council (NRDC), an NGO, presented their findings and 

held a press conference at a meeting of the American 

Chemical Society in 1974. Rowland reported that if CFC 

production rose at the then-current rate of 10 percent a 

year until 1990, and then levelled off, up to 50 percent 

of the ozone layer would be destroyed by the year 2050. 

Even a 10 percent depletion, he said, could cause as many 

as 80,000 additional cases of skin cancer each year in the 

United States alone, along with genetic mutations, crop 

damage, and possibly even drastic changes in the world’s 

climate.

In January 1975, a report of the U.S. National Academy of Sciences and Department of Transportation confirmed similar findings. These reports laid the foundation 

for widespread public concern and forced the governments 

to consider regulatory action.

The significant media coverage of Molina and Rowland’s press conference at the meeting of the American 

Chemical Society in 1974 resulted in headlines in the U.S. 

media such as “Aerosol Spray Cans May Hold Doomsday Threat.” The U.S. environmentalists were galvanized. 

Many consumer groups demanded a ban on the use of 

CFCs in aerosols, a “frivolous use.” The NRDC petitioned the U.S. Consumer Product Safety Commission to 

ban the use of CFCs in aerosols. The media exposure motivated several governments, including Canada, Sweden, 

and the United States, to take measures to reduce the ODS 

consumption wherever alternatives were readily available.

SCIENCE AS A SOURCE OF ISSUES 

ON THE POLICY AGENDA

The U.S. National Academy of Science, in a 1976 report, confirmed the earlier findings and further noted that 

CFCs were produced and used around the world, advising, 

“Clearly, although any action taken by the United States 

to regulate the production and use of CFMs [CFCs] would 

have a proportionate effect on the reduction in stratospheric ozone, such action must become worldwide to be 

effective in the long run.” Thus, was born the concept of 

a global stratospheric ozone depletion problem that needs 

action by the entire world for it to be solved.

SCIENCE AS A 

CONFIDENCE-BUILDING ACTIVITY

Since individual scientists of a few countries came up 

with ozone depletion discoveries, the challenge was convincing the governments of the world of the threat to the 

ozone layer. Hence, many countries felt it was necessary 

for the UN to organize scientists from many countries in a 

collaborative effort.
126 • science diplomacy

The UN organized the Conference on Human Environment in Stockholm, Sweden, in June 1972, the first 

of such global environment conferences. The institutional arrangements set out in the conference report led 

to the establishment of the UN Environment Programme 

(UNEP). The “Pollutants” paper of the conference called 

for research on how human activities influenced the stratospheric transport and distribution of ozone.

In April 1975, the UNEP Governing Council backed 

the Outer Limits Programme to protect stratospheric 

ozone and other vulnerable global commons.8 At its meeting in April 1976,9

 the council requested the executive director to convene a meeting to review all aspects of the 

ozone layer, identify related ongoing activities and future 

plans, and agree on a division of labor and a coordinating 

mechanism for the compilation of research activities and 

future plans and the collection of related industrial and 

commercial information.

In March 1977 a meeting convened by UNEP in Washington, D.C., in accordance with this mandate agreed a 

World Plan of Action on the Ozone Layer and established 

the UNEP Coordinating Committee on the Ozone Layer. 

The basic components of the action plan were

•	 coordinate atmospheric research (WMO);

•	 study the impact of changes in the ozone layer/biosphere 

(World Health Organization [WHO], WMO/UNEP, 

and Food and Agriculture Organization [FAO]);

•	 assess the impacts on human health (WHO);

•	 investigate other biological effects (FAO);

•	 develop computational climate models (WMO) and 

study regional climate effects (FAO);

•	 research socioeconomic aspects (UNEP, International 

Chamber of Commerce [ICC], Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development [OECD], and 

International Civil Aviation Organization);

•	 evaluate aircraft emissions, nitrogen fertilizers, and 

other potential modifiers of the stratosphere (UN Department of Economic and Social Affairs and OECD); 

and

•	 identify institutions to implement the action plan: UN 

bodies, specialized agencies, international, national, 

intergovernmental, and nongovernmental organizations, and scientific institutions.

The many reports of the UNEP Coordinating Committee on the Ozone Layer and National Academy of Sciences convinced many governments of the danger to the 

ozone layer. However, some countries of Europe and the 

companies that manufactured the CFCs were not convinced that CFC emissions were the primary cause of 

ozone depletion. They wanted more studies. To develop a 

world consensus, UNEP initiated diplomatic negotiations 

in 1982. The negotiations went on for three years, resulting in the Vienna Convention for the Protection of the 

Ozone Layer, 1985 (Vienna Convention), which agreed 

on further research but no steps for curbing the emissions 

of CFCs, in view of the scepticism of some countries. The 

labors of the scientists continued, and governments agreed 

to continue negotiations.

Seven international agencies teamed up to write a threevolume assessment of the state of the ozone layer in 1985. 

The report calculated the predicted magnitude of ozone 

perturbations for a variety of emission scenarios involving 

a number of substances. As early as October 1981, Dobson instrument measurements from Japanese, British, and 

other research stations recorded reductions in ozone levels 

above Antarctica. In 1984, Shigeru Chubachi of the Japanese Meteorological Research Institute reported his findings on declining ozone amounts over Antarctica but did 

not suggest that there was anything unusual about these 

data.10 By May 1985, Farman, Gardiner, and Shanklin of 

the British Antarctic Survey had realized the scientific significance of the widespread measurements that ozone levels 

above Antarctica were significantly depleted every Antarctic spring. Unlike Chubachi, they chose to publish their 

findings in Nature, where the policy significance would be 

appreciated, and to suggest a connection between ozone 

depletion and chlorofluorocarbons.11 The phenomenon 

of ozone depletion over Antarctica became known as the 

“ozone hole.” Another International Ozone Trends Panel 

in 1988 confirmed and expanded these findings.

SCIENCE AS A BEACON TO INDUSTRY

In early 1986, representatives of the companies DuPont, Allied, and ICI separately reported that between 

1975 and 1980, they had identified compounds meeting 

environmental, safety, and performance criteria for some 

CFC applications but had terminated research and development when they concluded that none were as inexpensive as CFCs and there would be no market for the 

alternatives.12 The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency 

quickly organized a team of international experts, who 

confirmed, by consensus, that a wide range of chemical 

alternatives with no or low ozone depletion potential 

(ODP) could be commercialized at just three to five times 

the price of the ODSs they would replace. Since ODSs are 

typically a very small part of total cost of products, the 

higher ODS price was considered insignificant and well 

worth the benefits of ozone layer protection.
S arma / PROTOCOL ON OZONE- DEPLETING SUBSTANCES • 127

Industry attitudes had changed considerably by December 1986. Previously, producers and users of CFCs 

argued that further regulations were uncalled for until 

science proved the ozone depletion theory. The industry 

coalition Alliance for a Responsible CFC Policy changed 

its position in 1986 and said that it would support a reasonable global limit on the future rate of growth of fully 

halogenated CFC production capacity.

Warnings by scientists that large unrestrained growth 

in CFC usage would lead to future ozone depletion caused 

industry to fear that the growth in demand of CFCs was 

bound to concern governments. Further, the Vienna Convention had served notice that the ozone depletion issue 

was being taken seriously. The negotiations under the auspices of UNEP on a protocol under the Vienna Convention further confirmed this feeling. The U.S. producers, 

from that point, added to the pressure for an international 

protocol, wanting to avoid a situation in which the United 

States regulated CFCs domestically while the rest of the 

world did not. Thus, after a decade of industry opposition to regulation, industry claimed that it was the lack of 

regulation that prevented it from introducing products to 

protect the ozone layer.

In 1986, scientists provided the first evidence that 

chlorine chemistry was, indeed, the cause of the ozone 

hole on the basis of ground-based experiments.13 In 1987, 

the internationally sponsored Airborne Antarctic Ozone 

Experiment confirmed the key role of chlorine in chemical 

reactions associated with ozone hole formation.14 The experiment’s “smoking gun” data showed an inverse correlation between ozone and chlorine monoxide from CFCs.

On 16 September 1987 the UNEP conference of the 

governments agreed on the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer. Only mild control 

measures were agreed upon to ensure that all countries 

could come aboard. In Article 6 of the protocol, the governments agreed that there will be periodic scientific, 

technological, and economic assessment of the issues concerning the CFCs and that the protocol will be revised on 

the basis of the results of the assessment. In October 1988, 

in compliance with Article 6 of the Montreal Protocol, the 

scientific, environmental, technology, and economic assessment processes were initiated.

SCIENCE AS A TOOL OF DIPLOMACY

In November 1989, four Montreal Protocol assessment panels reported their findings: The Scientific Assessment Panel (SAP) reported that “Even if the control 

measures of the Montreal Protocol (of 1987) were to be 

implemented by all nations, today’s atmospheric abundance of chlorine (about 3 parts per billion by volume) 

will at least double to triple during the next century. If the 

atmospheric abundance of chlorine reaches about 9 parts 

per billion by volume by about 2050, ozone depletions of 

0–4 percent in the tropics and 4–12 percent at high latitudes would be predicted. To return the Antarctic ozone 

layer to levels of the pre-1970s, and hence to avoid the 

possible ozone dilution effect that the Antarctic ozone hole 

could have at other latitudes, one of a limited number of 

approaches to reduce the atmospheric abundance of chlorine and bromine is a complete elimination of emissions of 

all fully halogenated CFCs, halons, carbon tetrachloride, 

and methyl chloroform, as well as careful considerations 

of the HCFC substitutes.” The Environmental Effects 

Assessment Panel (EEAP) confirmed the adverse impacts 

of ozone depletion on human health and environment. 

The Technology Assessment Panel (TAP) concluded that 

it was technically feasible to phase down the production 

and consumption of the five controlled CFCs by at least 

95%, phase out production and consumption of carbon 

tetrachloride, and phase down the production and consumption of methyl chloroform by at least 90 percent. The 

Economic Assessment Panel (EAP) noted that many companies already started phasing out the CFCs and the costs 

were much less than was originally feared.

The synthesis of the four assessment panels’ reports 

provided many policy options to governments for phasing 

out CFCs. It also concluded that

Protection of the ozone layer will require a full partnership 

between developed countries that have caused the problem and 

those in developing countries who would now like to improve 

their standard of living by using these chemicals for uses such 

as refrigeration. The lack of technical knowledge and financial 

resources of developing countries inhibits the adoption of certain CFC/halon replacement technologies and the definition and 

implementation of the best national options for the transition to 

CFC-free technologies. Funding is needed to assist the transfer of 

technology to developing countries during the transition period 

because currently available resources are already strained as a 

result of the world debt problem and the dire economic situation 

of many countries.

It is this report that led to more negotiations and an 

agreement in the second Meeting of the Parties in London 

in 1990 to completely phase out CFCs by the year 2000, 

with a 10-year grace period for developing countries, and 

to assist the developing countries with technologies and 

financial assistance through a Multilateral Fund (MLF) 

contributed by the developed countries. At the second 
128 • science diplomacy

meeting, the parties merged the TAP and EAP into the 

Technology and Economics Panel (TEAP) and asked the 

all the assessment panels to submit another comprehensive assessment in November 1991. The 1991 TEAP report found that

It is technically feasible to eliminate virtually all consumption of controlled substances in developed countries by 1995–

1997, if commercial quantities of transitional substances are 

available . . . As a result of rapid development of technology, the 

costs of eliminating controlled substances are lower than estimated in 1989 and will decline further.

The parties to the protocol approved the Copenhagen 

Adjustment and Amendment of 1992. They brought into 

the protocol HCFCs, HBFCs, and methyl bromide as controlled substances, each with a specific control schedule. 

The phaseout of CFCs, carbon tetrachloride, and methyl 

chloroform by the developed countries was advanced 

from the year 2000 to 1996, and the phaseout of halons 

was advanced to 1994.

The assessment panels’ 1994 report put forward further options to strengthen the protocol.15 As a result of 

this assessment, the 1995 meeting of the parties further 

strengthened the protocol, and in 1997 and 1998 the protocol was further strengthened. In 2007, the protocol was 

further adjusted to advance the phaseout of the HCFCs, 

the low-ODP substances used to replace the ODS.

SCIENCE FOR MONITORING, 

REPORTING, AND VERIFICATION

Since 1957, the WMO has provided the backbone of 

the global ozone monitoring network. In 1960, it established the World Ozone Data Centre in Toronto, Canada. 

Many countries measure ozone and abundance of ODS in 

the atmosphere through satellites, aircraft, balloons, and 

ground measurements. The scientific assessment panel of 

the protocol collates this information and studies the consistency of the scientific observations with the data on production and consumption of ODS reported by the parties 

to the protocol annually to the secretariat of the protocol. 

Any anomalies are investigated and causes found. Science 

thus provides a check on the reports of governments to 

the protocol secretariat. Following the measurements 

of the Antarctic ozone hole in 1984–1985, WMO initiated 

the public release of Antarctic ozone bulletins, which are 

issued every 10–14 days, beginning in mid-August. Springtime bulletins are issued for northern midlatitudes and the 

Arctic regions when conditions warrant.

SCIENCE TO MEASURE 

REGULATORY PERFORMANCE

The 2006 UNEP/WMO SAP report synthesized all the 

scientific observations of the ozone layer and concluded 

that the Montreal Protocol was a success:16

The total combined abundances of anthropogenic ozonedepleting gases in the troposphere continue to decline from the 

peak values reached in the 1992–1994 time period.

The combined stratospheric abundances of the ozonedepleting gases show a downward trend from their peak values 

of the late 1990s, which is consistent with surface observations 

of these gases and a time lag for transport to the stratosphere.

The Montreal Protocol is working: There is clear evidence 

of a decrease in the atmospheric burden of ozone-depleting substances and some early signs of stratospheric ozone recovery.

Economic analyses of the Montreal Protocol’s control 

measures have found that the speed of the phaseout has 

been faster, the costs have been lower, and the alternatives 

and substitutes have been more environmentally acceptable than the parties anticipated at the protocol’s initial 

and ongoing negotiations.17

The HFCs that replaced CFCs were zero ODP and 

had generally much lower global warming potentials 

(GWP), and the HCFCs that replace CFCs were generally 

low ODP and had equal or lower GWP. However, in some 

cases alternatives to ODSs had comparable GWPs that 

were too high to be environmentally sustainable. Overall, 

national regulations, voluntary actions, and compliance 

with the Montreal Protocol have protected the climate in 

the past and can add to climate protection in the future. 

Over the Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (Kyoto Protocol) 

period (1990–2010), the reduction in GWP-weighted 

ODS emissions from compliance to control measures of 

the Montreal Protocol was about 8 Gt CO2 equivalents per 

year. This reduction is substantially greater than the first 

Kyoto reduction target (2 Gt CO2 equivalents per year), 

even after accounting for the climate impact of ozone depletion and HFC emissions. And now, there are proposals 

before the parties to the Montreal Protocol to control the 

HFCs that were once necessary to replace the ODSs.

DEVELOPMENT OF OZONE-SAFE 

TECHNOLOGIES

From 1988, many companies proactively innovated 

and introduced many ozone-safe technologies. Industry 
S arma / PROTOCOL ON OZONE- DEPLETING SUBSTANCES • 129

leadership was an important ingredient in the accelerated and cost-effective phaseout of ODSs. The industry 

had many sources of motivation: respect for science, social motivation, desire for reputation and good will, motivation to avoid excessive regulation by governments, 

economic and strategic motivation, public relations, and 

employee motivation.

GLOBAL INDUSTRY COOPERATION

To accelerate the pace of toxicity testing and reduce 

costs, in 1988, 14 global chemical manufacturers with 

an interest in commercialising new substitutes to the 

most damaging ozone-depleting substances formed the 

Program for Alternative Fluorocarbon Toxicity Testing 

(PAFT). Another significant response was the creation of 

the Alternative Fluorocarbon Environmental Acceptability Study (AFEAS) consortium formed in 1989 to determine the environmental fate and investigate any potential 

impacts of alternatives in cooperation with government 

agencies and academic scientists. This unprecedented scientific cooperation shortened the time to commercialisation of new HCFC and HFC chemical substitutes by three 

to five years.

At least six industry associations based on science 

and engineering were started with the express goals of 

speeding the elimination of ODSs: AFEAS, the Halon Alternatives Research Corporation (HARC), Halon Users 

National Consortium (HUNC), the Industry Cooperative 

for Ozone Layer Protection (ICOLP), the Japan Industrial Conference for Ozone Layer Protection (JICOP), and 

PAFT. At least two other industry organizations, the U.S. 

Alliance for Responsible Atmosphere Policy (ARAP) and 

the Australian Association of Fluorocarbon Consumers 

and Manufacturers (AFCAM), transformed themselves 

from questioning to supporting regulations to protect the 

ozone layer. Several dozen other existing organizations 

created substantial internal subcommittees on ozone layer 

protection.

TECHNOLOGY AND ECONOMIC 

ASSESSMENT

The parties to the Montreal Protocol benefit from annual, up-to-date technical assessments from its TEAP and 

its Technical Options Committees (TOCs) for the six sectors of ODS use. The TOC reports are consolidated by the 

TEAP, and the results are synthesized with findings of the 

SAP and the EEAP.

The TEAP consists of the cochairs of the TOCs and 

a few other experts. Each TOC has cochairs from both 

developing and developed countries and 20–35 members 

from all parts of the world. Members of the TEAP are 

appointed by Meetings of the Parties (MOPs). Governments may propose members to TOCs. The cochairs of 

the TOCs have the full freedom to choose whom they 

want in consultation with the TEAP, depending on the expertise needed, which may vary from time to time. The 

membership is from government environment ministries, 

industries, academia, and a few professional consultants.

The presence of industry on the TOCs and the TEAP 

provides access to cutting-edge data that are often not yet 

published in scientific or technical journals since industry 

rarely publishes about emerging technologies it has developed for commercial purposes. As a result, reports from 

the TOCs and the TEAP often provide the parties with 

the first public disclosure of the latest developments. A 

code of conduct for TEAP and TOCs ensures that membership does not lead to taking undue advantage by the 

members.

Whereas the TEAP and TOCs were originally constituted to advise the parties at least once in four years on 

strengthening the protocol, the MOPs have actually used 

the TEAP and TOCs to spearhead more aggressive phaseout and to solve the many problems faced by the parties. 

For example, every three years the TEAP and the TOCs 

are asked to recommend the replenishment requirements 

of the MLF.

The reports of the TEAP or TOCs are presented to the 

parties as they are written, without any editing by policy 

makers. Parties are free to disagree with the reports but 

cannot amend them. The panels can present information 

that is relevant for policy making but do not recommend 

specific policies.

ROLE OF THE PROTOCOL REGIME

Regime Encouraging Involvement

of all the Stakeholders

All developing countries became parties to the protocol because of the concessions given to them, including a 

grace period for implementation of the control measures 

and a fund to meet their incremental costs. Every party to 

the Montreal Protocol has engaged in stakeholder dialogue 

and collaboration, and most operate national steering 

committees comprised of representatives from government ministries (e.g., agriculture, defence, environment, 

finance, and industry), industry associations, technical 
130 • science diplomacy

experts, NGOs, and others, such as from international 

implementing organizations or bilateral donor agencies.

Multilateral Fund and Implementing Agencies

The financial mechanism of the Montreal Protocol, 

the MLF, is based on the recognition that many developing 

countries lack the capacity to comply with treaty obligations 

and that developed countries that are often disproportionately responsible for causing the ozone depletion, should 

provide technologies and financial assistance to developing 

countries to ensure compliance. The developing and developed parties are equally represented in the executive committee of the fund. The contributions of the MLF have been 

critical to the success of the Montreal Protocol. The Global 

Environment Facility (GEF), though not a financial mechanism of the protocol, provided financial assistance to countries with economies in transition, which were not eligible 

to receive financial assistance from the MLF.

The MLF is also the focus of all the activities to assist 

the developing countries. Donor countries can have their 

own bilateral Montreal Protocol programmes (up to 20% 

of their contribution due to the MLF) in developing countries, but such programmes have to be approved by the 

executive committee. This requirement avoids confusion 

and duplication of activities.

Another reason for the success of the MLF is the replenishment process, which occurs every three years. The 

TEAP estimates the funding required for each replenishment period, taking into account the obligations of the 

developing countries, the projects already approved, and 

the lead time for completion of projects. The TEAP report 

is reviewed and decided upon by the parties at the MOP.

National Focal Points and Networks

The MLF financed creation of an office, or “focal 

point,” within each developing country’s government 

with financial assistance. This office coordinates the country activities for the phaseout, consults with industry and 

other interested organizations on the steps to be taken for 

the phaseout, prepares a country programme, designs and 

implements the national law and the financial measures to 

facilitate phaseout, organizes awareness and training programmes for the industry and public, and creates a system 

for monitoring and reporting on national production and 

consumption of ODSs.

The focal points of each country, along with interested developed countries, are organized into nine regional 

networks to facilitate the exchange of information, best 

practices, and technology transfer. These networks facilitate feedback to the MLF and to other parties, allowing 

parties to learn from each other and transfer expertise and 

technology from one country to another.

National Regulations and Policies

All the parties to the Montreal Protocol established 

regulations that included outright bans on production and 

imports. Many countries have taxes or fees on ODSs to discourage use and raise revenue. Other mechanisms included 

auctioning the right to the permitted ODSs. Labelling programmes help inform consumers which products and processes are ozone safe. The labelling programmes encourage 

product manufacturers to halt ODS use to satisfy customers and avoid administrative expenses and penalties.

CONCLUSION

The Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the 

Ozone Layer is the most successful environmental agreement ever, and the Antarctic Treaty was a research platform for the science that was instrumental in protecting 

the ozone layer. The Montreal Protocol is the only international agreement with participation of all 196 countries 

of the world, and it is the only environmental agreement 

to be on track to achieve all of its goals. The foundation 

of its success is science and technology, including the science discovered in Antarctica. Collaboration has been established between scientists, governments, NGOs, media, 

and UN organizations: science leading to understanding, 

understanding leading to policy, policy leading to implementation, and implementation leading to global environmental protection. If there were no Montreal Protocol, 

stratospheric ozone would have decreased by two-thirds, 

ultimately resulting in death and disability from tens of 

millions of cases of skin cancer, cataracts, and suppression 

of the human immune system, and would have irreparably 

damaged agriculture and ecosystems, which would have 

resulted in even more misery.

NOTES

1. Ultraviolet radiation can reach components of the immune system present in the skin. Experiments on animals show that UV exposure 

decreases the immune response to skin cancers, infectious agents, and 

other antigens and can lead to unresponsiveness upon repeated challenges, and studies of human subjects also indicate that UVB exposure 

can suppress some immune system functions. The risk of these immune 
S arma / PROTOCOL ON OZONE- DEPLETING SUBSTANCES • 131

effects for humans is uncertain but may be significant where infectious 

diseases already challenge human health and in persons with impaired 

immune function. See A. Jeevan and M. L. Kripke, “Impact of Ozone 

Depletion on Immune Function,” World Resource Review 5 (2001): 2; 

and Janice D. Longstreth, Frank R. de Gruijl, and Margaret L. Kripke, 

“Effects of Increased Solar Ultraviolet Radiation on Human Health” 

Ambio 24, no. 3 (1995): 153–165. See also the Columbia University 

Center for International Earth Science Information Network (CIESIN) 

thematic guide to the impact of stratospheric ozone depletion on suppression of the human immune system, http://www.ciesin.org/TG/HH/

ozimmun.html (accessed 7 December 2010).

2. Because ozone-depleting substances were already scheduled for 

phaseout under the Montreal Protocol, they are not included in the Kyoto 

Protocol. However, SF6, PFCs, and, particularly, HFCs that are substitutes 

for ozone-depleting substances in some applications are controlled by the 

Kyoto Protocol. The HFCs controlled under the Kyoto Protocol have global warming potentials (GWPs) that are generally lower than the CFCs 

they replaced. For example, the GWP of HFC-134a is about one-sixth the 

GWP of the CFC-12 it replaces as a refrigerant. See UNEP Ozone Secretariat, “The Implications to the Montreal Protocol of the Inclusion of HFCs 

and PFCs in the Kyoto Protocol,” report of the HFC and PFC Task Force 

of the Technology and Economic Assessment Panel, 1999, http://www

.ozone.unep.org/Assessment_Panels/TEAP (accessed 7 December 2010).

3. P. Crutzen, “The Influence of Nitrogen Oxides on the Atmospheric Ozone Content,” Quarterly Journal of the Royal Meteorological 

Society, 96, no. 408 (1970): 320–325.

4. J. E. Lovelock, R. J. Maggi, and R. J. Wade, “Halogenated Hydrocarbons in and over the Atlantic,” Nature, 241 (1973): 195, as discussed 

in M. Kowalok, “Common Threads: Research Lessons from Acid Rain, 

Ozone Depletion, and Global Warming,” Environment 35, no. 6 (1993): 

12–20, 35–38, http://www.ciesin.org/docs/011-464/011-464.html (accessed 7 December 2010).

5. H. S. Johnston, “Reduction of Stratospheric Ozone by Nitrogen Oxide Catalysts from Supersonic Transport Exhaust,” Science 173 

(1971): 517–522.

6. P. Crutzen, “SST’s: A Threat to the Earth’s Ozone Shield,” Ambio

1, no. 2 (1972): 41–51.

7. M. Molina and F. S. Rowland, “Stratospheric Sink for Chlorofluoromethanes: Chlorine Atom-Catalyzed Destruction of Ozone,” Nature

249, no. 5460 (1974): 810–812.

8. UN Environment Programme Governing Council, Decision 

29(III), April 1975.

9. UN Environment Programme Governing Council, Decision 

65(IV), April 1976.

10. S. Chubachi, “Preliminary Result of Ozone Observations at 

Syoma Station from February 1982 to January 1983,” Memoirs of National Institute of Polar Research 34 (1984): 13–19.

11. J. S. Farman, B. G. Gardiner, and J. D. Shanklin, “Large Losses 

of Total Ozone in Antarctica Reveal Seasonal ClOx/NOx Interaction,” 

Nature, 315 (1985): 207–210.

12. See Robert S. Orfeo, “Response to questions to the panel from 

Senator John H. Chafee,” Ozone Depletion, the Greenhouse Effect, and 

Climate Change, Hearings before the Senate Subcommittee on Environmental Pollution of the Committee on Environment and Public Works

(Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1986), pp. 189–192; and Donald Strobach, 

“A Search for Alternatives to the Current Commercial Chlorofluorocarbons,” in Protecting the Ozone Layer: Workshop on Demand and Control Technologies (U.S. Environmental Protection Agency: Washington, 

D.C., 1986).

13. S. Solomon, G. H. Mount, R. W. Sanders, and A. L. Schemltekopf, “Visible Spectroscopy at McMurdo Station, Antarctica: 2. Observation of OClO,” Journal of Geophysical Research 92 (1987): 

8329–8338.

14. NASA, “Airborne Antarctic Ozone Experiment,” http://geo.arc

.nasa.gov/sge/jskiles/fliers/all_flier_prose/antarcticO3_condon/antarctic

O3_condon.html (accessed 7 December 2010).

15. World Meteorological Organization, Scientific Assessment of 

Ozone Depletion: 1994; Executive Summary, World Meteorological Organization Global Ozone Research and Monitoring Project Report 37, 

World Meteorological Organization, Geneva, 1995.

16. World Meteorological Organization, Scientific Assessment of 

Ozone Depletion: 2006; Executive Summary, World Meteorological Organization Global Ozone Research and Monitoring Project Report 50, World 

Meteorological Organization, Geneva, 2007, http://ozone.unep.org/

Assessment_Panels/SAP/Scientific_Assessment_2006_Exec_Summary

.pdf (accessed 7 December 2010).

17. Economic Options Committee, 1991, 1994, 1998; and Stephen 

O. Andersen and K. Madhava Sarma, Protecting the Ozone Layer: The 

United Nations History (London: Earthscan, 2002), pp. 187–233.

INTRODUCTION

Antarctica and outer space have a lot in common. Like Antarctica, outer 

space is dangerous for humans; like Antarctica, outer space has a high strategic 

value; like Antarctica, outer space is quite interesting for research purposes. This 

means a lot for lawyers because the nature of a space has a great impact on its 

legal status.

Nevertheless, for historical reasons Antarctica and outer space are rather 

different as far as their legal statuses are concerned. In fact, despite the existing 

claims by some states on Antarctica, on the one hand, and the acceptance of the 

nonappropriation principle of outer space, on the other, the common natural, 

strategic, and scientific aspects of both spaces make a comparison of their legal 

framework and governance very efficient.

In 1959 activities in Antarctica were already important, and the Antarctic 

Treaty succeeded in breaking the vicious circle that impeded scientific activities 

on this disputed territory.1

 The freezing of the claims and refusal of new claims 

made possible efficient scientific activities on the cold continent. Outer space 

activities were at their very beginning, and the cold war and a significant balance 

between both superpowers made possible the recognition of a legal status that in 

many ways was copied from the Antarctic Treaty.

Both Antarctic and outer space activities were boosted by the International 

Geophysical Year, 1957–1958. Sputnik, the first artificial satellite of the Earth, 

was launched on 4 October 1957; Explorer 1 launched on 1 February 1958, 

opening the way to the discovery of the Van Allen belt.

Fifty years later, it is interesting to go on comparing both regimes. Doing 

so, we must keep in mind that outer space is much more sensitive for strategy 

and defence than Antarctica; the vision of a dominance of the Earth through 

space dominance is commonplace in geostrategic theories. Economically, outer 

space is also quite important, for instance, in telecommunications and remote 

sensing. Still, on many issues, this comparison may be quite useful. For a lawyer and a specialist in space law the hypothesis for this paper is that we have 

a rather evolved legal framework for outer space, but we have too few cooperation mechanisms. For the time being, the treaties governing outer space are 

Outer Space as International Space: 

Lessons from Antarctica

Armel Kerrest

Armel Kerrest, Faculté de droit, l’Université 

Européenne de Bretagne, 12 rue de Kergoat, 

F-29000 Brest, France, and European Centre 

for Space Law, European Space Agency, 8/10 

rue Mario-Nikis, F-75738 Paris Cedex 15. Correspondence: Armel.Kerrest@univ-brest.fr.
134 • science diplomacy

rather good for setting important principles regulating 

outer space activities, but cooperation between interested 

states is too limited to manage this common space and to 

improve the current legal framework without destroying 

it. Many problems are now before us that need concrete 

international cooperation to be solved. It seems that the 

cooperation in Antarctica may be a good example of what 

should be done in outer space.

This paper will present the current legal status of 

outer space, keeping in mind a comparison with the legal 

status of Antarctica, and will consider the necessity of a 

common international governance, taking advantage of 

the experience of Antarctica, which is more advanced but 

quite comparable in many ways.

THE LEGAL FRAMEWORK: 

PRINCIPLES OF OUTER SPACE LAW

Outer space is ruled by treaties setting precise and accepted legal principles. Because of the cold war, the two 

superpowers supported and accepted treaties organising 

outer space activities. Both wanted a rather precise legal 

framework in order to block the other’s activities. A good 

example of this is Article II of the 1967 Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space (also called the Outer Space 

Treaty [OST]), which establishes the nonappropriation 

principle.2 Given the balance between them, especially in 

the race to the Moon, both were interested in preventing 

the other one from claiming any possession in outer space 

and especially on the Moon. Both states also accepted the 

provision to limit military activities in outer space and 

on the Moon and other celestial bodies. Both accepted 

their responsibility and liability for space activities. These 

rather progressive provisions were proposed by the two 

powers and accepted by other states years before practical 

activities made it a necessity.

The main rules regulating outer space activities will 

now be considered. Like in Antarctica, but certainly more 

clearly and precisely, states play a very central role in outer 

space activities.

CONTROL OF ACTIVITIES IN OUTER SPACE

States are responsible for “national activities in Outer 

Space.” This important provision of Article VI of the Outer 

Space Treaty, the “Magna Charta of Outer Space,” was the 

interesting result of a compromise between the Union of 

Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) and the United States. In 

their proposal for a “Draft Declaration of the Basic Principles Governing the Activities of States Pertaining to the 

Exploration and Use of Outer Space” to the Committee on 

the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS) in 1962, the 

USSR wanted to block any private activity in outer space.3

Despite the fact that no private activity was conducted 

there at the time, the United States refused this limitation. 

A compromise was finally found that accepts private activities under the strict control of a state. Point 5 of the 

Declaration of Legal Principles Governing the Activities of 

States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space and Article VI of the Outer Space Treaty consider states to be responsible for “national activities in Outer Spaces.”4

 Those 

texts specify that these activities include “nongovernmental” ones: “whether such activities are carried on by governmental agencies or by non-governmental entities.”

Thanks to this compromise, private activities are allowed, but are clearly under the control of a state, which 

is responsible for their adherence to international law, including space law.5

 Moreover, Article VI goes on to specify 

that “the activities of non-governmental entities in outer 

space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, shall 

require authorization and continuing supervision by the 

appropriate State Party to the Treaty.” These rules make 

clear that any activity in outer space and on the Moon and 

other celestial bodies must be carried out “in accordance 

with international law, including the Charter of the United 

Nations.”6 For this reason many states involved in space 

activities are currently enacting domestic space legislation 

to control any space activity from their territory and also 

any activity of their nationals from international territory 

or even from the territory of a foreign state.

This principle goes further than the usual international law obligations of a state because of its personal 

jurisdiction. It creates a responsibility for states on behalf 

of their private entities, which is the only such case in international law and, therefore, is particularly important 

for spaces that are out of territorial jurisdiction of states. 

Like many other provisions of the Outer Space Treaty, the 

1968 Rescue Agreement,7

 the 1972 Liability Convention,8

and the 1975 Registration Convention9 have been widely 

accepted and may be considered as customary law and 

therefore are applicable to every state whether it is a party 

to the Outer Space Treaty or not.

LIABILITY FOR DAMAGE CAUSED 

BY A SPACE OBJECT

The other main provision of space law is the liability set by Article VII of the Outer Space Treaty and the 
KERREST / OUTER SPACE AS INTERNATIONAL SPACE • 135

Liability Convention. It seems that this very “victimoriented” rule was the counterpart favoured by nonspacefaring countries for accepting the freedom of use of outer 

space by other countries. Given the sovereignty of states 

over their territory recognised in the Paris Convention of 

1919 and that this freedom was not obvious at the time, 

the guarantee given by the United States and USSR that 

damage on Earth would be indemnified was a good way 

to limit the concerns of states not taking part but at risk to 

be damaged by the fall of space objects.

This liability is rather broad as relating to damage 

caused on Earth or to an aircraft in flight. It is much less 

efficient for damage caused in orbit when another spacefaring state is involved.

The liability for damage on Earth is very protective. It 

lies with the launching state, defined as a state launching, 

a state procuring the launch, or a state whose facilities or 

territory are used for the launch. If there is more than one 

launching state, which is currently very often the case, 

they are jointly and severally liable; that means that the 

victim may sue any of them for the whole indemnification. There are no possible exceptions; neither an act of 

God nor the fault of a third person may be used by the liable launching state, not even the fault of the victim if not 

gross negligence or willful misconduct. Contrary to the 

liability of ship owners according to the Brussels International Convention on Civil Liability for Oil Pollution 

Damage,10 the liability of the launching state is unlimited 

in amount or in time. Moreover, the victim is not prevented from seeking compensation through other ways, 

for instance, before a domestic judge under a domestic 

law.11 As such, the 1972 Liability Convention mechanism 

may be seen as a safety net provided by the launching 

state to potential victims. It also has the advantage of 

motivating states to exercise a strict and efficient control 

over the activities that might cause them to be considered 

as a liable launching state.

The responsibility of states for national activities in 

outer space, including the obligation to authorise and 

supervise private ones, and the liability of the launching 

states are a strong incentive for states to exert efficient 

control over every outer space activities.

There are nevertheless some important shortcomings 

of the 1972 Liability Convention. The most important is 

related to damage. As usual in law, damage to the environment as such is not taken into consideration. This general 

problem does not come from the nature of the damage 

but from the fact that we need a victim to ask for and to 

get compensation. If the environmental damage is caused 

on the territory of a state, like in 1978 with the fall of the 

Soviet satellite Cosmos 954 on the territory of Canada, the 

state can ask for compensation.12 If the damage is caused 

to an international space like the high seas or outer space 

and at least some parts of Antarctica, that would not be 

the case; basically, no state would be entitled to ask for 

compensation for this damage.

There are currently some proposals in the legal subcommittee of the COPUOS to envisage the negotiation of 

a general convention on space activities following the example of the Montego Bay Convention on the Law of the 

Sea. Russia and China propose to enter into discussion in 

a “holistic approach.” Despite the interest to enter into 

discussions, such a project appears extremely dangerous 

to currently accepted rules, especially on responsibility 

and liability. For the time being it is very doubtful that 

any state would accept such a heavy burden. It is true 

that the situations are rather different; the risk of damage is much higher in Antarctica than damage from a 

space object falling on the Earth, but we can see from 

the negotiations on Annex VI to the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty regarding 

liability that it would be quite difficult to make states 

accept now, in a different context, the rules of the 1972 

Liability Convention.

APPROPRIATION AND NONAPPROPRIATION 

OF INTERNATIONAL SPACES

Regarding appropriation and sovereignty, the legal 

situation of outer space is much clearer than Antarctica’s.13 Article II of the Outer Space Treaty clearly sets 

a nonappropriation principle.14 Despite some interpretations which are often close to bad faith, the rule is wide, 

clear, and indisputable: “Outer space, including the moon 

and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by claim of sovereignty, by means of use or 

occupation, or by any other means.” It applies not only to 

the bodies but also to the orbits, the “void space,” as Bin 

Cheng named it.15

Despite this clear wording, some try to dispute this 

principle. In our time of general private appropriation, 

they cannot accept a common domain for humanity. Some 

argue that the limitation is for “national appropriation” 

and thus does not apply to private persons. It is a misunderstanding of the word “national,” which is not synonym 

with “state”. If we consider the context, i.e., Article VI 

of the same treaty, “national activities” expressly include 

governmental and nongovernmental entities.16 In American English the word “nation” is often used instead of 

“state,” but, in fact, the “nation” is both the government 

and the people having the nationality of a state.17
136 • science diplomacy

Even if some claims are far from serious, they appear 

so interesting to the world’s media that they are widely 

spread and enable some to make a lot of money to the 

detriment of not only consenting victims but also, and 

more seriously, of the principle itself. The well-known 

claims made by the “Head Cheese,” Dennis Hope, for 

the Moon and every planet of the solar system are a good 

example of this distortion of the law and of the evolution 

of a fanciful project turning into a money making enterprise.18 Another claim is more interesting from a legal 

perspective. A U.S. citizen, Gregory W. Nemitz, knowing 

about a project by NASA to land a space probe on the 

asteroid Eros, decided to claim it as his property. When 

NASA landed its spacecraft on the asteroid, he asked for 

a rent before federal courts of justice.19 The decisions of 

the courts dismissed this claim but are not quite decisive 

on the nonappropriation principle itself. On the other 

hand, the U.S. Department of State had the opportunity 

to fully clarify the point of claims on asteroids. Responding to Mr. Nemitz’s letters, Ralph L. Braibanti, Director 

of the Space and Advanced Technology, U.S. Department 

of State, clearly stated, “Dear Mr. Nemitz. We have reviewed the ‘notice’ dated February 13, 2003, that you 

sent to the U.S. Department of State. In the view of the 

Department, private ownership of an asteroid is precluded by article II of the Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use 

of Outer Space, including the Moon and Other Celestial 

Bodies. Accordingly, we have concluded that your claim 

is without legal basis.”20

The problem is more serious and practical when orbits are concerned, especially the geostationary orbit. 

As is well known, the satellites that are placed on a circular and equatorial orbit at an altitude of 35,786 km 

(22,236 miles) are turning quite fast but remain in view 

of the same position of the Earth.21 By nature, such orbital positions are limited, and so are the radio frequencies needed for communication from and to the Earth. 

The International Telecommunication Union is in charge 

of administering these limited resources for states, with 

their cooperation. The application of the “first come, 

first served” principle was criticized by less-developed 

countries who disliked the attribution of some orbital 

positions and radio frequencies on an a priori basis. The 

evolution of a scientific technique eased the way for a solution. The colocalisation of many satellites on the same 

position and the digitalisation of the emissions enabled 

the useful capacity of orbits and number of frequencies 

to be greatly increased. The issue is still present, and need 

an efficient international cooperation, but having the 

issue considered in a technical way where practical solutions are needed is helpful.

PEACEFUL USE OF OUTER SPACE

The provisions on military uses of outer space are globally much less ambitious than the one accepted in the Antarctic Treaty. Military activities were envisaged from the 

beginning of space activities by both the United States and 

the USSR. We have to remember that at that time, both 

states were conducting large spying activities, with the USSR 

mostly on the ground and the United States overflying the 

Soviet territory with the U2.22 The launch of the first satellite by the USSR was perhaps an opportunity for the United 

States and western countries because it opened the way for 

freedom of use and, consequently, satellite intelligence. The 

USSR tried to outlaw the use of satellites for intelligence 

purposes,23 but this prohibition was not considered further. 

The laws of physics and the practical impossibility of preventing this use necessarily overrule the legal rules.

According to the OST, outer space is divided into 

two different parts as far as military activities are concerned: the orbits around the Earth, on the one hand, and 

the Moon and other celestial bodies and their orbits, on 

the other. International customary law, the OST, and, in 

fact, general international law prescribe peaceful use of 

outer space. Article IV of the OST also prohibits placing 

“in orbit around the earth any objects carrying nuclear 

weapons or any other kinds of weapons of mass destruction.” The Treaty Banning Nuclear Weapon Tests in the 

Atmosphere, in Outer Space and Under Water also applies.24 Any other military activities are not prohibited 

on the orbit around the Earth. The meaning of peaceful 

use may be disputed; given the common practice of states, 

it is difficult to see there a ban of any military activity 

and anything more than the obligation not to be aggressive. Currently, satellites, whether civilian or military, are 

used by the military for remote sensing/intelligence, communication, and positioning. Many of these activities are 

dual use. It may also be considered that remote sensing/

intelligence satellites may help tracking every activity and 

are therefore a necessity to preserve peace.

A much less acceptable evolution is what is called 

“weaponisation,” which is the act of putting weapons in 

outer space whether they are directed to targets in space or 

on the Earth. This sensitive point will be examined later in 

the light of the Antarctica Treaty System.

On the Moon and other celestial bodies, the legal situation is very close to the Antarctic one. The wording of 
KERREST / OUTER SPACE AS INTERNATIONAL SPACE • 137

Article IV of the Outer Space Treaty duplicates nearly exactly Article I of the Antarctic Treaty.

The moon and other celestial bodies shall be used by all 

States Parties to the Treaty exclusively for peaceful purposes. The 

establishment of military bases, installations and fortifications, 

the testing of any type of weapons and the conduct of military 

manoeuvres on celestial bodies shall be forbidden.

There are two differences that seem to weaken the 

OST compared to the Atlantic Treaty: The words “for 

peaceful purposes only” are changed into an apparently stronger “exclusively for peaceful purposes.” This 

wording may have been used in order to make a clearer 

distinction between the “peaceful use” that is required 

everywhere in outer space and “exclusively peaceful use” 

only compulsory for celestial bodies. The second difference is quite significant of the more-limited outline of the 

OST; it is the removal of the words “inter alia,” which are 

so important in legal texts. It transforms an open list into 

a limited one. In addition, a useful precision is added in 

the more modern text, including installations along with 

military bases and fortifications.

In both texts, the last precision, under a slightly different wording, is quite useful to enlighten the meaning 

of “peaceful purposes only” and “exclusively for peaceful 

purposes,” respectively. If there is a case where military 

personnel or equipment may be used when they are not 

conducting military activity, this wording clarifies that in 

Antarctica and on celestial bodies military activities as 

such are prohibited.

THE PROTECTION OF SPACE ENVIRONMENT

At the time of the adoption of the Outer Space Treaty, 

environmental issues were not paramount. Article IX of 

the OST deals with “harmful contamination” of outer 

space and celestial bodies and “adverse changes of the 

environment of the Earth.” It was the follow up of the 

consideration by the Committee on Space Research (COSPAR) when OST considered the possible contamination 

from outer space and established in 1958 the Committee 

on Contamination by Extra-terrestrial Exploration and in 

1959 the Consultative Group on Potentially Harmful Effects of Space Experiments. The draft of Article IX of the 

Outer Space Treaty was very much influenced by the cold 

war. The USSR complained against the U.S. West Ford Experiment, which consisted of placing millions of copper 

needles in outer space,25 and the United States criticized 

the USSR for nuclear testing in the high atmosphere. Article IX set some obligations to cooperate which, for the 

time being, remained mostly theoretical. They will be presented later in connection with the lessons that may be 

learned from the activities in Antarctica.

The framework set for outer space by the UN treaties 

and resolutions had been established during the cold war 

by a consensus between the two superpowers. For the time 

being, the normative process is at a standstill. We need 

to evolve to a more-efficient cooperation between interested states. The work of the COPUOS is currently nearly 

blocked. The practice of the Antarctic Treaty System may 

be a good example to give a new start to real cooperation 

driven by scientists and engineers if political, military, and 

strategic issues can be set aside, at least in part.

THE NEED FOR INTERNATIONAL 

COOPERATION

There are many cooperations in outer space, both 

multilateral, for example, the activities of the International Space Station, and bilateral. Even during the cold 

war, some cooperations between the two superpowers 

took place. These cooperations are mostly performing 

some task together and are not targeted at jointly regulating outer space itself and the activities conducted there.

Over the last few years, it has appeared more and 

more obvious that some kind of international regulations 

are necessary. The increase in the number of spacefaring 

states, the danger coming from space debris, the necessity 

to rationalise space traffic on some overcrowded orbits, 

the trend to weaponize outer space, and the projects aimed 

at the Moon, Mars, and other celestial bodies increase the 

necessity to enter into cooperation, especially if the use of 

the resources of theses bodies is concerned.

The cooperation of states in Antarctica within the Antarctic Treaty System seems to be quite a good example to 

follow. The two spaces have some important differences. 

The main one seems to be legal; paradoxically, in practice, it is not. The existence of claims in Antarctica and 

the undisputed nonappropriation of outer space seem to 

have few consequences. Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty 

regarding “freezing of the claims” seems sufficient to push 

aside most difficulties.

The main difference comes, perhaps, from the uses 

of both spaces. A strategic and even military use of outer 

space is not abandoned; it is even very much increasing. 

Even if some commercial activities take place in Antarctica like tourism, they are still much less important than 
138 • science diplomacy

the scientific activities. This is not the case of outer space, 

where commercial activities are important. Some, like 

telecommunication, are already very profitable. Generally 

speaking, the role of scientists in outer space activities is 

much less than what they are in Antarctica.26

Still some characteristics of outer space are close to 

Antarctica’s. If states really want to commonly organise 

outer space as an international common, the example of 

the cooperation in Antarctica seems to be quite relevant. 

Given the strategic and economical importance of outer 

space, it will certainly be more difficult than in Antarctica. 

Three major issues will be discussed: spatial environment, 

reduction and control of military activities, and the management of resources of outer space and celestial bodies.

REGULATING ACTIVITIES AND 

PROTECTING SPACE ENVIRONMENT

For the time being, we have some rules for outer space 

that are rather general and imprecise, and in any case, 

they are applied by states without any international intergovernmental control or even international cooperation. 

No specialized intergovernmental organisation exists for 

regulating outer space activities. The COPUOS is only a 

subsidiary of the UN General Assembly, with very little 

autonomy and small technical and administrative capacity. Some organisations are dealing with space activities 

as a part of their attributions, like the International Telecommunication Union, which is in charge of allocating 

radio frequencies and geostationary orbital positions. 

Other organisations, like UNESCO, intervene in outer 

space activities but have little real effects. In Geneva the 

UN Conference on Disarmament is competent for military activities in outer space, but despite some proposals, 

discussions on these issues are currently at a standstill 

because some major states do not want any discussions 

on these issues. As far as nongovernmental organisations 

are concerned, COSPAR has an important role in some 

precise and limited fields of space activities, especially 

those that do not yet have major strategic or economical 

impact, such as the study of potentially environmentally 

detrimental activities or planetary protection.27 The Interagency Debris Coordination Committee has been created 

by space agencies to cooperate on space debris mitigation. 

In any case, this cooperation is limited by the reluctance of 

some states to enter into discussions that may lead to any 

legal constraint.

Article IX of the OST sets a general obligation to “conduct all their activities in outer space . . . with due regard 

to the corresponding interests of all other States Parties to 

the Treaty.” It deals with possible harmful contamination 

of celestial bodies and “adverse changes in the environment of the Earth resulting from the introduction of extraterrestrial matter.” Cooperation between states is required 

“if a State Party to the Treaty has reason to believe that an 

activity or experiment . . . would cause potentially harmful interference with activities of other States Parties in the 

peaceful exploration and use of outer space.”

It would be of major interest to have some organised 

discussions after the establishment of a mechanism of 

environmental impact assessment. In this matter, the sophisticated mechanism applicable to Antarctica could be 

transformed for space activities.

In the field of planetary protection, even if it is a relatively limited activity compared with other more strategic 

and commercial spatial endeavours, we have a good example of what could be done. It is the most comparable 

issue with cooperation and scientific influence within the 

Antarctic system. The COSPAR’s Panel on Potentially Environmentally Detrimental Activities in Space (PEDAS) 

and Panel on Planetary Protection (PPP) are active in this 

limited but important field.28

The graduation of requirements according to possible 

impact would be major progress. Even if, at the end of 

the process, states would have the last word, the necessity 

to discuss their projects would be quite interesting. Some 

controversial projects were already proposed for outer 

space. Fortunately, they were partially stopped. Let me 

refer, for example, to the Project West Ford to put a ring 

of copper needles around Earth’s orbit in order to communicate using the needles as a reflector. This project contributed to space debris and was criticized by scientists.29

The system was abandoned when satellite communication 

became efficient.30 Another project was also set and abandoned: Russian scientists launched Znamya, a mirror reflecting the Sun and able to illuminate places during the 

night, with illumination about two times the glow of a full 

moon. This mirror would conserve electricity but would 

create significant light pollution. Exploration and use of 

the Moon, Mars, and other celestial bodies open the way 

to discussions on the impact of these activities on the celestial bodies, such as contamination by terrestrial organisms (forward contamination), and also the impact on the 

Earth as a result of materials returned from outer space 

carrying potential extraterrestrial organisms (backward 

contamination). A comparison may be made between this 

issue and the activities of the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research and, for instance, its Subglacial Antarctic 

Lake Exploration Group of Specialists.31
KERREST / OUTER SPACE AS INTERNATIONAL SPACE • 139

Many other programs have been or may be envisaged; 

publicly available environmental impact assessments are 

necessary before they are launched, especially, but not 

only, when nuclear power sources are involved or for activities on celestial bodies that appear to have more than 

a “minor or transitory impact on the environment.” The 

rules of Annex I of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty and the way they are implemented would be very a good example to follow. Most of 

them can be directly transposed and used for outer space 

activities.32 The rules will work if the strategic or economical pressures are not too strong. If they are, a stronger and 

compulsory legal framework should be decided and generally accepted, a difficult work in perspective.

On a more regularly basis the protection of outer 

space against space debris is much needed. Some orbits are 

already dangerous. The recent creation of much debris33 in 

very useful orbits shows the necessity to organise a kind of 

“space traffic management.”34

MILITARY ACTIVITIES IN OUTER SPACE

As discussed, military activities are not prohibited in 

orbits around the Earth as far as they are nonaggressive 

and do not use weapons of mass destruction. It is now 

a necessity to avoid an arm race in outer space. The socalled weaponisation would be extremely costly. It must 

be emphasised that weapons would also be mostly useless 

for security purposes. Satellites are very fragile; it is quite 

easy to destroy them, either one by one with appropriate 

rockets or laser beams or all at once with nuclear bombs. 

Satellites for military activities are useful for low- or 

middle-level conflicts.35 In case of a high-level conflict involving spacefaring countries, the destruction of satellites 

could be very quickly done as a “Spatial Pearl Harbor.”36

Such destruction with the related creation of a lot of debris 

would prevent any activity, whether military or civilian, 

for years or even centuries. The solution is not to increase 

the space dominance of one state or another or to try without success to harden satellites but to limit militarisation 

and to forbid weaponisation of outer space.

If agreements may be negotiated and accepted, it 

would be necessary to set an efficient international control, the condition of this acceptation by any state. The example of the current practice in Antarctica would, mutatis 

mutandis, be quite interesting. Of course, the practical situation is rather different as theses activities are conducted 

in outer space, where it is not technically possible to make 

any inspection. On the other hand, no space activity can 

be really secretly conducted, launching a spacecraft is so 

“noisy” that every state with some technical capabilities is immediately aware of each of them.37 A control on 

Earth is needed and should be accepted. The argument 

that the possible use of many apparently civilian satellites 

for military or even aggressive purposes prevents any efficient control is not acceptable. It would be like refusing to 

control the commerce on heavy weapons because crimes 

might be committed with kitchen knives.38 Of course, it is 

obvious that it would be a more difficult task to have this 

limitation accepted for outer space than for Antarctica, 

where military activities seems much less “useful.”

The situation is, of course, different for military activities on the Moon or other celestial bodies. The current legal situation is very comparable to Antarctica’s: no 

military activity is permitted. Inspection of installations is 

feasible as far as the states have the technical capability 

to do so. Article XII of the Outer Space Treaty opens the 

possibility of such a visit:39

All stations, installations, equipment and space vehicles on 

the moon and other celestial bodies shall be open to representatives of other States Parties to the Treaty on a basis of reciprocity. Such representatives shall give reasonable advance notice of 

a projected visit, in order that appropriate consultations may 

be held and that maximum precautions may be taken to assure 

safety and to avoid interference with normal operations in the 

facility to be visited.

EXPLOITING THE MINERAL RESOURCES OF 

THE MOON AND OTHER CELESTIAL BODIES

Given the technical and financial difficulties of exploiting the Moon or any other celestial bodies, this activity seems to be rather futuristic. Here also it may be quite 

interesting to compare with the situation of Antarctica. 

For a nonscientist, It is difficult to have a precise opinion 

of whether a ban of any mining activity should be supported for the Moon as it was for Antarctica; it may be.

If not, it may be quite useful to have a look at the former Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral 

Resource Activities (CRAMRA). First of all, this text was 

proposed before any mining activity took place in Antarctica; the supportive states expressed their will to discuss 

this issue before it would be necessary to act in a hurry. 

We are perhaps in the same situation for celestial bodies.

The mechanism created by CRAMRA succeeded at an 

apparently impossible task: to organise a mining activity 

on a territory where states do not agree on sovereignty. It 
140 • science diplomacy

would be much easier task for the Moon and celestial bodies, where the principle of nonappropriation is accepted by 

treaties and even by international customary law.

For the time being, we do have a treaty: the Moon 

Agreement.40 It was mostly proposed by the U.S. delegation to COPUOS and accepted by consensus in the 

COPUOS and by the UN General Assembly.41 Later, because of political changes in the United States, strong lobbying of some space activists, and the necessity to obtain 

the authorisation of the U.S. Senate for ratification, the 

project was set aside, and many states are no longer considering its ratification. The agreement was only accepted 

by 13 states.42 None of them has or even considers having 

the capability to go to the Moon. Nevertheless, as shown 

by its acceptation by consensus in the COPUOS and UN 

General Assembly, this agreement is quite acceptable if 

ideology can be set aside. In Article 11, it declares “the 

moon and its natural resources are the common heritage 

of mankind.” States have the right to explore and use 

the moon without discrimination. Exploitation would 

need an agreement establishing an international regime 

“to govern the exploitation of the natural resources of 

the moon.” Such a regime should be negotiated “when 

such exploitation is about to become feasible.” Article 

11, paragraph 7, indicates the main purpose of such a 

regime.

Despite its limited ambitions, for reasons that are 

more ideological than practical, this agreement is currently demonised. If we want to have a legal regime for 

exploiting the resources of the Moon, it may be necessary 

to draft a new instrument. Both the Montego Bay Convention on the Law of the Sea (as modified by the New 

York Agreement) and CRAMRA may be used by analogy 

to build the future regime.

As is currently the case for the resources of the bottom 

of the sea, if there is some possibility to mine the Moon, 

it will be necessary to adopt a clear international agreement. The concept of the common heritage of mankind 

is the logical consequence of the nonappropriation and 

res communis, the common province of mankind principles when consumable goods (i.e., goods destroyed by 

first use) are to be exploited. This is already the case for 

sea resources. The refusal of this principle has more to do 

with ideology than pragmatism. The Moon Agreement, as 

accepted by every delegation to the COPUOS, envisages 

“an equitable sharing by all States Parties in the benefits 

derived from those resources, whereby the interests and 

needs of the developing countries, as well as the efforts of 

those countries which have contributed either directly or 

indirectly to the exploration of the moon, shall be given 

special consideration.” In any case, it will be a long time 

before such exploitation becomes financially profitable. 

Like for Antarctica, it may be useful to enter into discussion before the activity begins. The existence of a clear 

and undisputed legal regime is always a necessity before 

considering important investments. Here they promise to 

be huge. The CRAMRA was very much oriented toward 

a protection of the environment; on that issue, it may be 

quite useful for comparison.

CONCLUSIONS

The current status of Antarctica is generally well accepted; efficient cooperation is occurring. In outer space it 

should be quite useful to try, mutatis mutandis, to use the 

lessons from the Antarctic Treaty System. First, world scientists should be given a more important role when issues 

are not too strategic; groups of experts within the framework of the United Nations could be created in related scientific areas, including space law. They should range from 

particular domains, like planetary protection, to more 

general uses, including mitigation of space debris, space 

traffic management, and even limitation of military uses.

In a longer perspective, the creation of an international 

organisation may be envisaged, but it is not a priority for 

the time being. A real international intergovernmental cooperation should be largely improved, especially among 

states interested in space activities. The specificities of 

every state may be taken into consideration.43

Finally, the issue of demilitarisation with the necessary 

control should be seriously considered. Nonmilitarisation 

of outer space, like accepted for Antarctica, is certainly 

not possible in the foreseeable future for the orbit around 

the Earth, but international agreements to block weaponisation are necessary and feasible. The example of Antarctica is quite interesting in that regard.

NOTES

1. Armel Kerrest, L’Antarctique, un statut juridique extraordinaire, 

Revue “Accès,” 2003 tome II.

2. “Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies,” opened for signature on 27 January 1967, entered into force 

on 10 October 1967, XXX United Nations Treaty Series (UNTS) XXX, 

XX United States Treaties and Other International Agreements (UST) 

XXX, Treaties and Other International Acts Series (TIAS) No. XXXX; 

adopted by the General Assembly in Resolution 2222 (XXI), with 98 

ratifications and 27 signatures as of 1 January 2008; also referred to as 

the Outer Space Treaty (OST).
KERREST / OUTER SPACE AS INTERNATIONAL SPACE • 141

3. UN General Assembly, COPUOS, “Draft Declaration of the Basic 

Principles Governing the Activities of States Pertaining to the Exploration 

and Use of Outer Space,” UN Doc. A/AC.105/L.2, 10 September 1962, 

at point 7: “All activities on any kind pertaining to the exploration and 

use of outer space shall be carried out solely and exclusively by States.”

4. UN General Assembly, Plenary Meeting, “Declaration of Legal 

Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use 

of Outer Space,” 13 December 1963; Resolution 1962 (XVIII).

5. Outer Space Treaty, Article III.

6. Outer Space Treaty, Article III.

7. “Agreement on the Rescue of Astronauts, the Return of Astronauts and the Return of Objects Launched into Outer Space,” opened 

for signature on 22 April 1968, entered into force on 3 December 1968, 

672 UNTS 199, 19 UST 7570, TIAS No. 6599; adopted by the UN General Assembly in Resolution 2345 (XXII), with 90 ratifications, 24 signatures, and 1 acceptance of rights and obligations as of 1 January 2008; 

also referred to as the Rescue Agreement.

8. “Convention on International Liability for Damage Caused by 

Space Objects,” opened for signature on 29 March 1972, entered into 

force on 1 September 1972, 961 UBTS 187, 24 UST 2389, TIAS No. 

7762; adopted by the General Assembly in Resolution 2777 (XXVI), 

with 86 ratifications, 24 signatures, and 3 acceptances of rights and obligations as of 1 January 2008; also referred to as the Liability Convention.

9. “Convention on Registration of Objects Launched into Outer 

Space,” opened for signature on 14 January 1975, entered into force on 

15 September 1976, 1023 UNTS 15, 28 UST 695, TIAS 8480; adopted 

by the General Assembly in Resolution 3235 (XXIX), with 51 ratifications, 4 signatures, and 2 acceptances of rights and obligations as of 

1 January 2008; also called the Registration Convention.

10. “International Convention on Civil Liability for Oil Pollution 

Damage,” 29 November 1969, UNTS 973, p. 3, 9 International Legal 

Materials (ILM) 45.

11. Liability Convention, Article 10.

12. The claim between both states was finally settled by an agreement: “Protocol between the Government of Canada and the Government of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.” done on April 2, 1981, 

http://www.oosa.unvienna.org/oosa/SpaceLaw/multi_bi/can_ussr_001

.html (accessed 7 December 2010).

13. Armel Kerrest, “L’appropriation de la lune et des corps célestes,” in Droit de l’Espace, ed. Philippe Achilleas (Brussels: Larcier, 

2009), pp. 342–358.

14. See also the “Declaration of Legal Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space,” Resolution 

1962 (XVIII), 13 December1963, at point 3.

15. The expression was used by one of the finest space law lawyers, 

Bin Cheng, when he wanted to make a clearer distinction from the difference between the 1963 phrase “outer space and celestial bodies” and the 

1967 phrase “outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies.” Bin Cheng, Studies in International Space Law (Oxford: Clarendon 

Press, 1997), p. 517, note 13.

16. See Freeland and Jakhu on Article II, Cologne Commentary on 

Space Law, ed. Hobe, Smiddt-Tedd, and Schrogl (Cologne: Carl Heymanns Verlag, 2009), p. 52.

17. The redactors of the U.S. code took this point into consideration and decided to change the word “Nation” to “Country,” which is 

quite right: “In this chapter, the word ‘Country’ is substituted for ‘Nation’ for consistency in the revised title and with other titles of the United 

States Code” (U.S. Code 49), subtitle IX, chapter 701, Commercial 

Space Launch Activities, footnote).

18. The text of his claim (22 November 1980) is by itself quite revealing of this fanciful character: “This is to inform the sovereign planet 

of Earth, that, Dennis M. Hope is now and shall ever be known as, ‘THE 

OMNIPITANT RULER OF THE LIGHTED LUNAR SURFACE,’ [sic] . . . 

[and to] inform the world that the ownership of the Moon, of Earth, is 

hereby claimed by me, Dennis Hope. Said property shall remain in my 

possession until such time as I declare differently. Let it also be known to 

all mankind that I subsequently claim ownership of the remaining known 

eight planets and their respective moons from this day forward . . .” It is 

amusing to see that despite the obviously far from serious characteristics of 

this proclamation, many people are taking these claims seriously.

19. U.S.District Court, District of Nevada, 6 November 2003; U.S. 

Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit in San Francisco, California, 20 

July 2004; as discussed on The Eros Project for Space Law Web site, 

http://www.erosproject.com (accessed 20 November 2009).

20. Letter from Ralph L. Braibanti, Director of Space and Advanced Technology, U.S. Department of State, Washington, D.C., to 

Gregory William Nemitz, 15 August 2003, reproduced on the Web site 

of Mr. Nemitz, http://www.erosproject.com/exhibit01.html (accessed 20 

November 2009)

21. This orbit, also known as the Clarke Orbit, has orbital velocity 

of 3.07 km/s (1.91 miles/s) with a period of 1436 minutes.

22. “The U-2 Incident,” http://www.eisenhowermemorial.org/stories/

U2.pdf (accessed 20 November 2009).

23. UN General Assembly, COPUOS, “Draft Declaration of the 

Basic Principles Governing the Activities of States Pertaining to the Exploration and Use of Outer Space,” UN Doc. A/AC.105/L.2, 10 September 1962, at point 8: “The use of artificial satellites for the collection of 

intelligence information in the territory of foreign States is incompatible 

with the objectives of mankind in its conquest of outer space.”

24. “Treaty Banning Nuclear Tests in the Atmosphere, in Outer 

Space and Under Water 5,” August 1963, in force 10 October 1963, 480 

UNTS 43.

25. On this issue, especially on the history of drafting of Article IX, 

see Sergio Marchisio in Cologne Commentary on Space Law, pp. 169–182

26. This lack of involvement may be the reason why COSPAR, 

which is an observer to COPUOS, despite the fact that it is the main intergovernmental body for regulating outer space, does not attend (at least 

since 2000) any meeting of the Main Committee or of the Legal Subcommittee and not always the meeting of the Scientific and Technical Subcommittee. Since 2000, COSPAR was not represented at the 2010, 2009, and 

2006 meetings; UN COPUOS Report A/AC/105/869, at point 6.

27. The COSPAR Panel on Potentially Environmentally Detrimental Activities in Space (PEDAS), H. Klinkrad (European Space Operations Centre, European Space Agency), chair, and N. L. Johnson (United 

States), vice-chair; the COSPAR Panel on Planetary Protection (PPP), 

J. D. Rummel (United States), chair, and G. Kminek (European Space 

Research and Technology Centre, European Space Agency), vice-chair.

28. A workshop of the COSPAR PPP was scheduled to take place 

in Princeton in June 2010.

29. On 20 May 1964 the executive council of the Committee of 

Space Research (COSPAR) adopted a resolution on “no harmful interference from Westford experiment.” See Marchisio, p. 173, on Article IX.

30. See Marchisio, p. 172.

31. See the interesting comparison made between the PPP and the 

Subglacial Antarctic Lake Exploration Group of Specialists in “Antarctic Governance and Implications for Exploration of Subglacial Aquatic 

Environment,” in Exploration of Antarctic Subglacial Aquatic Environments environmental and Scientific Stewardship (Washington, D.C.: 
142 • science diplomacy

National Academies Press, 2007), pp. 104–113, especially a table of 

comparison on pp. 107–109.

32. Secretariat of the Antarctic Treaty, “Guidelines for Environmental Impact Assessment in Antarctica,” http://www.ats.aq/documents/

recatt/Att266_e.pdf, (accessed 21 November 2009).

33. China’s destruction of one of its weather satellite (Fengyun-1C, 

11 January 2007) as a demonstration of its capacity to destroy a satellite created much debris in a rather high and very useful orbit, creating around 2630 catalogued fragments. In 2008 the accidental collision 

between Iridium 33 and Cosmos 2251 created more than 1,500 debris 

fragments larger than 10 cm on a range from 200 to 1700 km. Some 

fragments will fall to Earth many will stay until the end of the century. 

See Orbital Debris Quarterly News 13, no. 3 (2009): 2–3, http://www

.orbitaldebris.jsc.nasa.gov/newsletter/pdfs/ODQNv13i3.pdf (accessed 

20 November 2009).

34. International Academy of Astronautics, Cosmic Study on Space 

Traffic Management (Paris: International Academy of Astronautics, 

2006), http://iaaweb.org/iaa/Studies/spacetraffic.pdf (accessed 21 November 2009).

35. Testimony of Michael Krepon of the Henry L. Stimson Center 

before the House Committee on Armed Services, Subcommittee on Strategic Forces, 18 March 2009, http://www.fas.org/irp/congress/2009_hr/

space.pdf (accessed 7 December 2010).

36. According to the wording used by the Commission to Assess 

United States National Security Space Management and Organization 

(Rumsfeld Commission) in 2001.

37. For the current position of the United States against the Chinese and Russian proposal to limit weaponisation of outer space, see 

“Contemporary Practice of the United States,” American Journal of 

Intentional Law 102: 667–669; and Paula A. DeSutter, “Is an Outer 

Space Arms Control Treaty Verifiable?” (remarks to the George C. 

Marshall Institute Roundtable at the National Press Club, Washington, 

D.C., 4 March 2008), http://www.nti.org/e_research/official_docs/dos/

dos030408.pdf (accessed 22 November 2009). For quite a different philosophy, see “Outline of Basic Provisions of a Treaty on General and 

Complete Disarmament in a Peaceful World (submitted by the US Delegation to the UN Committee on Disarmament Geneva April 18 1962),” 

American Journal of International Law 56, no. 3 (1962): 899–925

38. DeSutter, “Is an Outer Space Arms Control Treaty Verifiable?”.

39. Cf. Antarctic Treaty, Article VII, paragraph 3.

40. “The Agreement Governing the Activities of States on the Moon 

and Other Celestial Bodies,” opened for signature on 18 December 1979, 

entered into force on 11 July 1984, 1363 UNTS 3, 18 ILM 1434–1979, 

http://www.unoosa.org/oosa/en/SpaceLaw/moon.html (accessed 7 December 2010); adopted by the General Assembly in Resolution 34/68, 

with 13 ratifications and 4 signatures as of 1 January 2008; also called 

the Moon Agreement.

41. Carl Q. Christol, “The Moon Treaty Enters into Force: Current Developments,” American Journal of International Law 79, no. 1 

(1985): 163–168.

42. As of 1 January 2008, 13 states have ratified, 4 have signed; 

http://www.unoosa.org/oosa/en/SpaceLaw/moon.html (accessed 21 November 2009).

43. States with launch pads, strong satellites operators, remote 

sensing capabilities, etc.
INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty (AT) has been successful by almost any measure. It has 

dealt effectively with military challenges posed by nuclear weapons, political 

tensions of sovereignty claims, and the scientific desire for shared access to research sites across vast, unexplored expanses. Over the past 50 years the AT has 

contributed to global stability, cooperative scientific exploration, and international management for peaceful purposes of nearly 10% of the Earth (Grimaldi, 

2009). In similar ways, the UN Outer Space Treaty (OST),1 which was, in part, 

modeled on the Antarctic Treaty, has also withstood the test of time, designating 

outer space as a resource for peaceful uses in the interest of all mankind. In addition to its role in cold war diplomacy and preventing a nuclear space race, the 

Outer Space Treaty has contributed to productive scientific exploration, international cooperation, and the protection of planets from biological contamination 

(“planetary protection”) for more than four decades.

Although both treaties shared similar priority goals in their early stages, 

each has responded to quite different challenges, both social and technological, 

over the last 50 years. As a result, they have diverged over that time, particularly 

with respect to environmental protection and management. As a guide to the 

future and to understand the environmental and management challenges of an 

increased human presence in outer space, it may be instructive to examine the 

key features of each treaty at the time of negotiation and compare how each 

was modified over the decades. As both environments will likely face increasing 

demands for access and use of their relatively hostile, yet fragile, environments, 

lessons learned from the comparisons can provide insights on how the treaties 

can respond to future challenges like increased exploration and increased tourism, as well as the more complex decisions about resource management and use 

brought about by the increased presence of humans in these environments.

For both treaties, sound scientific information has been essential for the establishment and revision of management plans and regulatory guidelines. Looking ahead, ongoing research and new scientific understanding of both Antarctica 

and outer space will be important to effectively address the challenges posed 

by increased human activities, whether they result from government, scientific, 

commercial, and industrial or private sector pursuits.

Policies for Scientific Exploration and 

Environmental Protection: Comparison of 

the Antarctic and Outer Space Treaties

Margaret S. Race

Margaret S. Race, SETI Institute, 189 Bernardo 

Avenue, Mountain View, California 94043, USA.
144 • science diplomacy

INITIAL TREATY FRAMEWORKS

As noted by Kerrest (this volume), Antarctica and 

outer space have a lot in common. Both are hostile environments for humans, both are viewed with the potential 

for extensive and valuable resources of different types, and 

both are of intense interest for scientific research and exploration. Likewise, both Antarctica and outer space have 

potentially high strategic value and were the focus of significant political and military interest during the cold war.

Both treaties were products of the cold war era, developed on the heels of the very successful International 

Geophysical Year (IGY; 1957–1958) that reflected international scientific cooperation in the post–World War II 

era. At that time, the Antarctic Treaty deliberations served 

as a framework to address concerns over possible cold war 

military expansion as well as conflicting sovereignty claims 

on Antarctic areas that had been put forward by a handful of nations. Although subsequent discussions about the 

Outer Space Treaty likewise centered on potential military 

expansion and national security, they were coupled with 

a desire to establish the precedent of “freedom of international space,” thereby heading off tensions over legal restrictions aimed at orbiting satellites and spacecraft. From 

a historical perspective, one could argue that scientific activities served as peacekeeping surrogates and cooperative 

ventures that ensured internationalization and diffused 

political tensions, that the “political exploitation of scientific goodwill” was used to “achieve essentially political 

objectives” (Launius, 2009). Regardless, for both treaties, 

scientific exploration legitimized international control by 

creating mechanisms for management and goals for continued rational use that continue to this day.

The 17 articles of the Outer Space Treaty have considerable overlap and similarity with the 14 articles of 

the original Antarctic Treaty. As shown in Table 1, both 

stipulate exclusively peaceful uses and strict limitations on 

military activities and the use of nuclear weapons and materials. Both prohibit governments from extending national 

sovereignty or making new resource claims, and each indicates that states parties are responsible for authorization, 

supervision, and responsibility over their national activities, 

whether those activities are undertaken by governmental 

or nongovernmental entities. Both declare the expectation 

of freedom of scientific investigations, exchanges of information and personnel, access for observers, and peaceful 

dispute settlements. In addition, both have provisions for 

amending, interpreting, and upholding the treaty as well 

as mechanisms to allow other states to become signatories. 

Notable differences have to do with the nature of space 

exploration and the potential for astronauts to come back 

to the Earth in unplanned ways to unplanned locations. In 

the Outer Space Treaty, states agree to provide assistance to 

astronauts in the event of accidents or emergencies; to retain jurisdiction, control, and ownership of their launched 

objects; and to accept liability for damages caused by objects in their control, whether on Earth or other planets, in 

air space or outer space.

Although discussions of both treaties began around 

the same time, the Antarctic Treaty was developed by a 

group of just 12 countries, led by the United States and the 

United Kingdom.2

 Treaty deliberations and modifications 

occur through Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings 

(ATCM), which are now held annually. In contrast, the 

Outer Space Treaty was negotiated as a United Nations 

treaty.3

 The UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer 

Space (COPUOS), which was established by the General 

Assembly in 1959, was designated as the focal point of 

international cooperation and deliberations regarding 

peaceful exploration and use of outer space. Originally, 

COPUOS had 24 members but has since grown to 69 

members, making it one of the largest committees in the 

United Nations.

Interestingly, both treaties are supported by strong, active, international scientific panels that grew out of IGY 

research efforts and which predate the signing of their respective treaties. The Scientific Committee for Antarctic 

Research (SCAR) and the Committee on Space Research 

(COSPAR) were established by the International Council 

of Scientific Unions (now the International Council for 

Science, ICSU) in 1957 and 1958, respectively, to provide 

independent scientific advice on matters related to their respective treaties, as well as information on emerging issues. 

The COSPAR, as a nongovernmental organization, was 

granted permanent observer status to the UN COPUOS 

in 1962.4

 The SCAR is similarly a third-party, nongovernmental organization that functions as a permanent observer 

and advisor to the Antarctic Treaty through the ATCM.5

In considering the initial makeup of the treaties, two 

features are linked to later expansion in areas of environmental and science management.

1. Science reserves for exploration versus science and 

use: Although both treaties stipulate scientific exploration 

for peaceful purposes for the benefit of mankind, the Antarctic Treaty designated the continent as a natural reserve 

devoted to science, whereas the Outer Space Treaty specifically mentioned science, cooperation, and use for mankind, keeping the door open for all types of activities, not 

just scientific exploration on celestial bodies and in outer 

space.
race / COMPARISON OF ANTARCTIC AND OUTER SPACE TREATIES • 145

2. Environmental oversight: The Outer Space Treaty 

stipulates that states should conduct exploration of celestial bodies in ways “so as to avoid their harmful contamination and also adverse changes in the environment 

of the Earth caused by the introduction of extraterrestrial 

matter.” The initial version of the Antarctic Treaty made 

no specific mention of contamination, biological or otherwise, although it does indicate that preservation and conservation of living resources are within the scope of its 

Consultative Meetings.

In hindsight, neither treaty provided much in the way 

of initial guidance for later expansion into regimes that 

would address concerns about environmental management and protection. Over time, each has dealt with these 

issues quite differently, as described below.

EVOLUTION AND IMPLEMENTATION 

OF THE TREATIES OVER THE DECADES

Antarctic Treaty System

When the Antarctic Treaty went into force in 1961, it 

was a mere shadow of what it is today regarding environmental and science protection. It is now a treaty system, 

comprising ~200 agreements and measures that have been 

developed and ratified via the ATCM process, with considerable multidisciplinary input through SCAR. The system’s extensive environmental oversight and protections 

are an outgrowth of international deliberations and sound 

science that have been translated incrementally into precautionary, multispecies, and ecosystem-based approaches 

TABLE 1. Key features of the Antarctic and Outer Space treaties at ratification.

Antarctic Treatya

Features Article Outer Space Treatyb

 Article

Peaceful Uses for Mankind I I, III, IV

No Military Activities or Bases I IV

Science Investigation and Cooperation II Science Exploration, Cooperation 

and Use I

No Sovereign Claims IV II

No Nuclear Explosives/Waste Disposal V No Nuclear Weapons or WMDs in 

Orbit IV

Jurisdiction and Responsibility for National Activities VIII VI

Freedom of Access III I

Share Information on Science/Activities III XI

Freedom of Personnel and Observers III I, X, XII

Peaceful Settlement of Issues and Discourage Contrary Activities X, XI Practical Questions Resolved by 

Consultations XIII, IX

Procedures for Accession XIII XIV

Amendment Provisions XII XV

Consultative Meetings IX —

— Avoid Harmful Contamination of 

Celestial Bodies and Adverse Changes

to Earth IX

— Assist Astronauts V

— Liability for Launched Items VII

— Retain Jurisdiction, Ownership of

Items VIII

Scientific Advisory Group (independent, 3rd party NGOs) Sci. Committee on Committee on Space Research

Antarctic Research (COSPAR) (1958)

(SCAR) (1958)

a Signed in 1959; in force 1961.

bSigned in 1967; in force 1967.
146 • science diplomacy

to management. As summarized in Table 2, the Antarctic 

Treaty System is now an amalgam of five main agreements, 

six annexes, and various legally binding measures relating 

to protection of Antarctic environments and resources. 

Most additions to the original treaty were developed from 

the 1970s through the 1990s, but changes are continuing. As a treaty system, the Antarctic Treaty System is a 

dynamic entity, considerably more effective and stronger 

than when originally ratified. What began as a treaty built 

around cold war diplomacy, military and nuclear limitations, and peaceful science exploration has evolved into a 

remarkable instrument of environmental protection, international science cooperation, and stewardship for the benefit of humankind, all the while maintaining its important 

geopolitical and security objectives.

Although the early conventions and agreements on 

flora and fauna, living resources, and seals were noteworthy, perhaps the most important elements of the Antarctic 

Treaty for protection of the environment and dependent 

ecosystems were developed in the 1990s with the Protocol 

on Environmental Protection and its associated annexes. 

In addition to preventing development and providing protection for the Antarctic environment, this protocol established a set of binding mandates related to prevention of 

marine pollution, conservation of flora and fauna, waste 

disposal and management, special area protection and 

management, and environmental impact assessments. The 

result is a clear, comprehensive framework that outlines 

a code of conduct for expeditions and station activities, 

along with procedures for international review in advance 

of proposals likely to have significant environmental impacts. Activities with anticipated minor or transitory impacts fall under the oversight and jurisdiction of national 

authorities. Ongoing participation and input by SCAR 

to the ATCM, as well as to the Committee for Environmental Protection (CEP), provide opportunities to update 

relevant scientific information, identify emerging issues 

or concerns, and make recommendations for revisions related to stewardship or those intending to minimize the 

adverse impacts of human activities.6

TABLE 2. Comparison of the Antarctic Treaty (after 50 years) and the Outer Space Treaty (after 40 years).

Features Antarctic Treaty, 1959 Outer Space Treaty, 1967

Agreements/legal Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora Agreement on the Rescue and Return of Astronauts and

instruments (1964; in force 1982) Objects (1968)

Conservation of Antarctic Seals (1972; in Convention on International Liability for Damage by

force 1978) Space Objects (1972)

Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources Convention on Registration of Objects Launched into

 (1980; in force 1982) Outer Space (1975; in force1976)

Protocol on Environmental Protection (1991; Agreement Governing Activities of States on the Moon

in force 1998) and Other Celestial Bodies (1979; in force 1984)

Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities Guidelines on Space Debris Mitigation

(1988; later rejected) (COPUOS- IADC; 2010)

Annexes Environmental Impact Assessments 1991 (1998) Declaration on Activities in Exploration and Uses of

Fauna and Flora 1991 (1998) Outer Space (adopted 1963)

Waste Management 1991 (1998) Use of Artificial Earth Satellites for International Direct

Marine Pollution 1991 (1998) TV Broadcasting (1982)

Special Protected Areas (& moratorium on mineral Remote Sensing of Earth from Outer Space (1986)

activities 1991 (2002) Use of Nuclear Power Sources in Outer Space (1992)

Liability arising for environmental emergencies (2005) International Cooperation in Exploration and Use for the

(not in force yet) Benefit of all States, and Needs of Developing Countries

(1996)

Governance framework AT Consultative Meetings (ATCM), 1961 Governance framework

AT Secretariat, 2004 UN Committee on Peaceful Uses of Outer Space

Scientific Committee for Antarctic Research (COPUOS), 1959

(SCAR), 1958 UN Office for Outer Space Affairs (UNOOSA), 1958

Committee On Space Research (COSPAR), 1958
race / COMPARISON OF ANTARCTIC AND OUTER SPACE TREATIES • 147

Outer Space Treaty

In contrast to the dynamically evolving Antarctic 

Treaty System, the Outer Space Treaty has remained unchanged over the decades. As shown in Table 2, the OST 

has been joined by four additional international treaties. 

Three of these (rescue and return of astronauts, liability, 

and registration) elaborate on principles included in the 

original treaty. The fourth, The Agreement Governing 

the Activities of States on the Moon and Other Celestial 

Bodies (also called the Moon Agreement; accepted by the 

General Assembly in 1973; nominally in force in 1984) 

designated “the Moon and its natural resources as the 

common heritage of mankind.” The Moon Agreegment 

has been ratified by only 13 States and signed by only 4 

others,7

 despite repeated calls by the General Assembly 

(Tuerk, 2009). Among other things, the Moon Agreement 

embraces nonappropriation of property while asserting 

the right of states to collect and remove samples of the 

Moon’s minerals and other substances in quantities appropriate for the support of their missions. In addition 

to these four legal instruments, there is a fifth document 

that complements the Outer Space Treaty. Recently, after 

more than a decade of deliberative work by the InterAgency Space Debris Coordination Committee (IADC),8

both COPOUS (2007) and the General Assembly (2008) 

endorsed the set of voluntary space debris mitigation 

guidelines and encouraged their implementation through 

national mechanisms.9

During the past four decades, neither the OST nor 

any of the subsequent agreements have established specific 

regulations for activities related to the commercialization, 

exploitation, or use of any natural resources of the Moon 

or other celestial bodies by either public or private entities. 

Deliberations by COPUOS have focused largely on activities in Earth orbit or those that might impact Earth (e.g., 

missions with astronauts, space debris, satellites, liability 

for damages, ownership of objects, launch registration, 

nuclear power sources in space, remote sensing of Earth, 

defense against hazardous asteroids, etc.).10 Only one article of the OST addresses protection of the Earth and 

contamination avoidance in space. In Article IX, the OST 

stipulates avoidance of harmful contamination, protection 

of exploration, and prevention of “adverse” changes on 

Earth from the return of extraterrestrial materials.

Despite the lack of development of other OST provisions, the implementation of Article IX has resulted in a 

long and successful history of planetary protection (from 

living or organic contamination) of celestial bodies during space exploration. True to its consultative role with 

COPUOS, COSPAR has played a strong role in developing international policies and guidelines to avoid forward 

contamination (transport of hitchhiker organisms on 

spacecraft launched from Earth) and back contamination 

(uncontained return of extraterrestrial samples or materials that could be biohazardous to Earth). Early efforts in 

spacecraft decontamination began during the first decade 

of space exploration beyond Earth, and planetary protection controls have been updated repeatedly to reflect advances in science and technology ever since.11

In recent years, the increasing pace of astrobiology 

research and space missions has contributed to a new 

understanding of planetary environments, cosmological 

processes, biological potential, and life in extreme environments. Accordingly, COSPAR and the scientific community 

have continued to refine planetary protection policies associated with one-way, round-trip, robotic and human missions to solar system bodies.12 The focus on biological and 

organic contamination means there are no specific policies 

addressing other sorts of environmental management or 

protection needed to protect physical environments and 

natural resources beyond the Earth. As a nongovernmental organization without institutional authority, COSPAR’s 

recommendations are not internationally legally binding, 

except through consultation with and interpretation by 

COPUOS and the voluntary adoption of COSPAR standards by spacefaring nations in separate, multiparty agreements. Nonetheless, planetary protection provisions have 

been voluntarily adopted by launching nations over the decades, thereby affording indirect environmental protection 

to target bodies with possible habitable conditions.

For a variety of reasons, the OST has not developed 

a comprehensive framework of mandated environmental protections similar to that afforded by the Antarctic 

Treaty System. Part of the difference is based on the nature and extent of scientific information available about 

Earth versus outer space, and this lack of knowledge (of 

the environments, of the capabilities of Earth organisms 

in those environments, and of the possible existence of 

extraterrestrial life) has meant that the implementation 

of the OST’s “no harmful contamination” article has focused on biological contamination avoidance, rather than 

on environmental protection, per se. Although an understanding of Antarctic microbes and ecosystems has only 

recently developed, our understanding about flora, fauna, 

and environments on Earth is extensive and can be applied 

to Antarctica for developing environmental and resource 

protections. In contrast, our knowledge about planetary 

environments and the uncertainty about possible associated biota and dependent ecosystems in outer space make 
148 • science diplomacy

it more difficult to establish appropriate levels of protection drawn directly from scientific analogies or legal precedents on Earth. When one celestial body is deemed to 

be lifeless (like the Moon or some asteroids) compared to 

another that could potentially harbor extraterrestrial life 

(like Mars or Europa), one can debate the merits and justifications for developing varied environmental management and planetary protection policies for each, but such 

designations are subject to change as new knowledge becomes available. Scientists are continuing to deliberate on 

how to update planetary protection policies and control 

measures that will protect the various bodies of the solar 

system even as new launching nations add to a growing 

number of science missions to diverse target bodies.

Although voluntary adherence to biological contamination controls has translated into protection of science exploration over the years, there is still nothing that provides 

a framework around the OST similar to the AT’s protocol 

of environmental protection, code of conduct, special area 

designations,13 or environmental impact assessments for 

proposed activities. This lack of a framework has implications for space missions both now and in the future. For 

example, a number of missions have deliberately impacted 

the Moon with spacecraft to detect and analyze subsurface ice (e.g., Lunar Prospector, Lunar Crater Observation 

and Sensing Satellite [LCROSS], etc.), yielding significant 

information for researchers interested in potential water 

reserves on the Moon. Nonetheless, other researchers interested in studying the lunar atmosphere or who might 

want to study the record of past cometary impact on the 

Moon have expressed concerns that repeated landings, 

deliberate impacts, or other volatile-rich lunar surface activities could contaminate the fragile atmosphere in ways 

that could interfere with future scientific study and interpretation of the lunar record. Unlike the Antarctic Treaty, 

the Outer Space Treaty has no internationally accepted 

framework or process that requires states parties to assess, 

in advance, the effects of various science mission proposals or to evaluate their relative merits or cumulative impacts on other science efforts. Concerns about this lack 

of a review process are likely to grow and become more 

complicated in the future, with the anticipated increase of 

commercial, industrial, and private sector activities on the 

Moon and other planetary surfaces.

LOOKING AHEAD

The Antarctic and Outer Space treaties have each 

performed well for many decades and, barring any 

unfortunate geopolitical crises, will presumably maintain 

their important roles in cooperative science exploration, 

nonappropriation, prevention of military and nuclear activities, and peaceful uses of their respective territories. 

However, when it comes to environmental protection and 

resource management, the Antarctic Treaty framework is 

currently better prepared to tackle likely future challenges, 

as detailed in the following comparison.

Antarctic Treaty

On the basis of the original treaty and subsequent revisions, the Antarctic Treaty System outlines clear statements 

about its prohibitions, regulations, and objectives and has 

evolved regulatory and procedural frameworks effective 

for environmental management and changing scenarios. It 

is a streamlined legal instrument, overseen by a relatively 

limited number of acceding states whose highly involved 

user communities rely on the ATCM and up-to-date information to manage the continent as a reserve for scientific 

research. The existing framework provides an established 

means to tackle emerging challenges such as the growing 

interest in bioprospecting, increasing demand for tourism, 

and continued interest in mineral exploitation, oil and gas 

extraction, and expansion of economic activities.14 Other 

complications may arise from tensions between science 

preservation and perceived national interests, particularly 

in regard to pollution control, marine resources, or rights 

at the intersection of other treaties (e.g., the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea). All in all, the Antarctic Treaty 

has grown into a strong environmental treaty over time 

and has contributed to five decades of peaceful scientific 

exploration and cooperative stewardship, even though historians suggest that science was manipulated in the beginning to achieve Western geopolitical aims during the cold 

war era (cf. Launius, 2009). From today’s perspective, the 

treaty can provide valuable lessons and useful analogues 

on how to approach the management of sensitive international resources for the benefit of humankind.

Outer Space Treaty

Although the original Outer Space Treaty and its 

subsequent agreements likewise outline clear statements 

about prohibitions, guidelines, and objectives, its implementation through COPUOS over the past four decades 

has focused predominantly on launches and activities in 

Earth orbit (issues related to astronauts, ownership, liability, sustainability and protection of orbital assets, 

handling of space debris, and equipment at end-of-life, 
race / COMPARISON OF ANTARCTIC AND OUTER SPACE TREATIES • 149

etc.). At the same time, COSPAR and the international 

scientific community have concentrated on the only element of the treaty that specifically mentions contamination or protection beyond Earth orbit. So far, COSPAR 

has incrementally developed planetary protection “rules 

of the road” that represent “detailed and very specific 

non-binding, standards and guidelines that amount to soft 

law instruments applicable to extraterrestrial space exploration” (Bohlmann, 2009:192. According to Bohlmann 

(2009:193), this evolution of policies and law governing 

space protection reflects the increased influence of the science community and a shift of political motivations for 

space exploration initiatives away from “the early hard 

power arguments to the quest for scientific knowledge perceived as a cultural imperative.”

Already, we can anticipate the kinds of pressures likely 

to arise in the coming decades. For example, planned 

human activities may contribute to a variety of direct, indirect, and cumulative impacts, including base infrastructure 

construction, waste handling and disposal, exploration, 

road building, mining, in situ resource utilization, traffic 

management of orbital assets, end-of-mission debris handling, placement of large radio telescopes, use and disposal 

of nuclear power sources, and eventual settlement and associated development. Concerns about potential impacts on 

historical sites or special areas have been raised by proposals for novel private or commercial activities like aerospace 

prize competitions, space tourism, and even astroburials 

on the lunar surface. Although many of these scenarios 

have analogues on Earth or in Earth orbit, they present 

unusual complications as the pace of activities increases.

Although a predominantly science-based approach 

has worked well in Antarctica to develop a framework 

for environmental protection, resource management, and 

prevention of harmful contamination, there are some 

distinctively different issues associated with this type of 

approach in space.15 Given the wide variety of different 

environments found in outer space, even the conceptual 

basis for such a framework will need reconsideration. Notions like environmental stewardship, sustainability, preservation, resource use, exploitation, or adverse impacts 

on, under, or above celestial bodies have yet to be defined 

and discussed in detail because in many cases hostile space 

environments are incapable of sustaining life. Accordingly, 

there are no general guidelines for how to address the protection of lifeless environments in the solar system.

Other possibly unique complications could arise if 

and when verified extraterrestrial life is discovered since 

all legal and ethical systems on Earth are based on life 

as we know it. Recently, scientists have even suggested 

the need to discuss whether ethical considerations should 

be integrated into planetary protection policy along with 

protection of science (National Research Council [NRC], 

2006:111–114). The recommendation for an international 

workshop on the topic was endorsed by COSPAR in 2008, 

and a workshop on ethical issues in planetary protection 

was held in June 2010 and discussed at the COSPAR General Assembly in Bremen, Germany (July 2010). With so 

many different environmental situations possible in “outer 

space,” some of which are distinctly different from those 

encountered in terrestrial situations, questions about a 

treaty regime that will ensure the appropriate protection 

of unique natural and physical systems are sure to persist. 

Clearly, there is a long road ahead before we can develop 

a consensus system for balancing science exploration, environmental protection, and diverse, peaceful uses of outer 

space for human benefit (to say nothing about benefiting 

“all mankind”).

The good news is that research and analysis during the 

past 10–15 years have already identified various issues and 

gaps or inadequacies in outer space policy (e.g., Hargrove, 

1986; Lupisella and Logsdon, 1997; Almar, 2002; Race 

and Randolph, 2002; Tennen, 2003; Cockell and Horneck, 2004; Williamson, 2006; Sterns and Tennen, 2007; 

Masson-Zwann, 2008), and the COSPAR planetary protection policy has been updated and expanded every two 

years (at biannual COSPAR Assemblies) since 2002. In addition, recently a number of interdisciplinary groups have 

begun organized discussions on how to develop environmental management agreements in ways that effectively 

integrate scientific exploration with potentially expanding 

commercial and private sector activities. For example, the 

International Academy of Astronautics (IAA) “Cosmic 

Study” on Protecting the Environment of Celestial Bodies (PECB) was formed under the auspices of IAA Commission V (Space Policy, Law, and Economy) to examine 

current planetary protection controls for avoiding biological contamination and consider whether and how protection might extend to geophysical, industrial, and cultural 

realms. The PECB study report (Hoffman et al., In press) 

identified a variety of problems related to environmental 

protection, including the lack of suitable detection methodologies and an insufficient legal framework, a paucity of 

economic analytical tools, and a shortage of the political 

will to address the issues ahead. COSPAR’s Panel on Exploration (PEX) (COSPAR, In press) undertook a study to 

provide independent input to support the development of 

worldwide space exploration programs while safeguarding the scientific assets of solar system objects. The PEX 

report also outlines how to protect the lunar and Martian 
150 • science diplomacy

environments for scientific research under various legal 

frameworks. Elsewhere, the European Space Foundation 

(ESF) co-organized a transdisciplinary conference and 

dialogue with the European Space Agency (ESA) and the 

European Space Policy Institute (ESPI) in 2007 to assess 

issues at different phases in human exploration, first in 

Earth orbit, then on other bodies, and finally as colonizers 

off Earth (Codignola and Schrogl, 2009). A subsequent 

ESF scoping conference (2009) extended discussions to 

even broader considerations, from philosophy and religion to culture, education, legal, ethical, political, and 

social frameworks. Ultimately, the conference output will 

lead to publication of a multidisciplinary research roadmap (ESF, 2011). Finally, COSPAR’s Planetary Protection 

Panel has begun planning a symposium for 2011 that will 

examine planetary protection policy and environmental 

protection in outer space as a continuum and determine 

what revisions in COSPAR policy, if any, may be needed to 

adapt to the changing face of space exploration.

Viewed collectively, many of the ideas identified as 

ways to move forward in outer space bear striking similarities to elements of the Antarctic Treaty’s framework 

for environmental management. For example, tentative 

suggestions have included the need to consider

•	 designation of special management areas or protected 

zones to avoid or mitigate impacts in advance (e.g., 

special scientific regions, historical/cultural/aesthetic 

reserves, planetary parks, special natural features or 

formations, developable regions, etc.);

•	 development of a comprehensive environmental protection protocol (for scientific and other proposals) 

that outlines procedural approaches for review and 

assessment of proposed activities that have the potential for significant direct or indirect contamination or 

exploitation impacts;

•	 establishment of code(s) of conduct appropriate for 

different types of celestial bodies and environments 

(including subsurface and orbital) and an elaboration 

of how these may apply to various categories of activities and different sectors (scientific, commercial, 

industrial, private, etc.); and

•	 development of workable analytical tools and criteria 

for evaluating considerations such as costs, benefits, 

reversibility, and varying degrees of impacts from proposed activities, including cumulative impacts.

Although the underlying concepts and principles for 

environmental management and stewardship will necessarily be drawn from terrestrial analogues and experiences, 

some issues may require innovative approaches or consideration. For example, there is need to anticipate what 

complications could arise if and when extraterrestrial life 

is discovered and verified. Since all current ethical and 

legal systems are based on life as we know it, such a discovery will likely challenge the bases for management and 

stewardship in outer space. Likewise, questions about 

how to determine the balance between scientific exploration and the use of an environment for the benefit of 

humankind will require discussions of issues like “fair” 

access and equity among different current users, as well 

as issues like the long-term sustainability of resources and 

environments in outer space and consideration of obligations to nonspacefaring nations and future generations. In 

light of these unusual complications, some observers have 

suggested the need for a new international consultative 

body to engage in more coordinated and informed consideration of the complex issues ahead.

Once these discussions start in earnest, multiple 

“user” communities can enter into deliberations about 

environmental management that have previously been 

overseen largely by COSPAR and the rest of the scientific 

community. It is important to continue the application 

of existing planetary protection controls and policies as 

working guidelines for scientific and other users, even as 

we evaluate how to transition to a more comprehensive 

set of mandates and regulations covering more than biological and organic contamination. Planetary protection 

policies, even today, incorporate echoes of the notion of a 

“period of biological exploration” (set at 50 years), which 

once suggested that when we know more about planets 

like Mars and had determined whether extraterrestrial life 

exists, then we might transition to a more active period 

of human activity and development. In some ways, this 

period could function like the moratorium on mineral exploration in Antarctica and provide a suitable cushion of 

time for a conservative or precautionary approach in the 

face of scientific uncertainty.

Both the Antarctic and space communities are involved in explorations aimed at understanding extreme 

environments of interest and importance to humankind. 

Both communities recognize the need to devise workable 

plans for environmental stewardship and management 

that can respond to new challenges posed by human presence, yet which will continue to sustain the resources of 

these vast areas, now and in the future. It is too early to 

say what a suitable framework for environmental management in outer space should be, particularly in the face 

of increasing pressures by diverse user groups. Although 

these communities continue to protect and sustain science 
race / COMPARISON OF ANTARCTIC AND OUTER SPACE TREATIES • 151

exploration and discovery through existing treaties and 

policies, we must find ways to allow appropriate technological development and expansion of human activities 

beyond Earth, presumably borrowing from successful 

analogues and precedents on Earth. On the basis of lessons learned from the Antarctic experiences, it is clear that 

the space community has considerable work ahead. Fortunately, the Antarctic Treaty System provides a workable 

model that may be emulated with some confidence as the 

exploration of outer space moves ahead.

Acknowledgments

The author extends special thanks to John Rummel, 

Patricia Sterns, Leslie Tennen, Mark Williamson, Mahlon 

Kennicutt, and Roger Launius for their helpful reviews 

and suggestions during the preparation of this paper.

NOTES

1. The Treaty on Principles Governing the Exploration and Use of 

Outer Space, including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies.

2. The Antarctic Treaty was originally signed by 12 parties and 

now has been ratified by 47 parties, 28 of which are Consultative Parties 

eligible to vote at ATCMs.

3. The Outer Space Treaty was signed initially by 27 parties; as of 

2008, the treaty had been signed and ratified by 98 signatory states (plus 

27 additional states not fully ratified).

4. Many other nongovernmental organizations have been granted 

observer status with the COPUOS in the subsequent decades, including the 

International Astronautical Federation (IAF), the International Institute of 

Space Law (IISL), and the International Academy of Astronautics (IAA).

5. Mahlon Kennicutt II, Department of Oceanography, Texas 

A&M University, personal communication, 2010.

6. For example, questions about the advisability of drilling into pristine subglacial aquatic lakes and environments like Lake Vostok became 

the subject of extensive discussions by SCAR and the scientific community 

for over a decade in efforts to minimize harmful contamination. These 

discussions were undertaken largely within the context of the treaty structure. See NRC (2007) for a historical review of deliberations to develop a 

sound scientific basis for contamination and cleanliness standards aimed at 

managing future research and exploration in these sensitive environments.

7. At the time of signing, all 13 were nonspacefaring nations; subsequently, France and India have become launching nations.

8. For information on IADC, see http://www.iadc-online.org/index

.cgi?item=home (accessed 18 November 2010).

9. UN Office for Outer Space Affairs, “Space Debris Mitigation 

Guidelines of COPUOS,” (United Nations, Vienna, 2010), http://www

.unoosa.org/pdf/publications/st_space_49E.pdf (accessed 18 November 

2010).

10. Additional agreements that relate to outer space issues but are 

not considered part of the treaty include the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty 

(1963) and the International Telecommunication Union Constitution 

and Convention (1992) (geostationary orbits) (Williamson, 2006).

11. For historical reviews of planetary protection policies, see NRC 

(2006: pp. 11–35) and Williamson (2006: pp. 91–148). Depending on 

the target body and the type of science activities planned for a mission, 

general planetary protection requirements may include a combination 

of clean room assembly of parts and spacecraft; cleaning and sterilization of components, subsystems, and whole spacecraft; microbiological 

reduction and control via use of standard cleaning procedures and assays 

on hardware; methods to prevent recontamination before launch; calculation of impact probabilities to minimize accidental contamination; 

and inventories of organic compounds on spacecraft for certain missions 

categories.

12. See “COSPAR Planetary Protection Policy,” http://cosparhq.cnes

.fr/Scistr/PPPolicy(20-July-08).pdf (accessed 18 November 2010); and 

NASA planetary protection Web site, http://www.planetaryprotection

.nasa.gov (accessed 18 November 2010).

13. The Moon Treaty, Article 7, par. 3, mentions areas of special 

scientific interest, but it has never been implemented.

14. Mahlon Kennicutt II, personal communication, March 2010.

15. The interpretation of harmful contamination has been suggested to mean harmful to humans rather than harmful to the environment, especially because Article IX of the Outer Space Treaty mentions 

causing harmful interference with activities in the peaceful exploration 

and use of outer space. Some suggest that it relates to avoiding harm to 

human activities, rather than harm to space environments (Cypser, 1993; 

Williamson, 2006:160).

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ABSTRACT. The study of Antarctica and the Southern Ocean, and their role in the Earth 

system, has never been more important as the region experiences change that has global 

implications. The Antarctic region is a “natural laboratory” for scientific research of importance in its own right and impossible to achieve elsewhere on the planet. Understanding the Earth system, its components, connections and feedbacks is a major endeavour of 

contemporary Antarctic science. The following on-going and emerging research activities 

will be a continued focus of Antarctic research in the coming years: past, current and future 

climate change; the systematic response of Antarctica to change; understanding Antarctic 

biodiversity, evolution and ecology; exploration and modelling of ice dynamics and sub-ice 

environments; ocean, ice, atmospheric and cryospheric observing and modelling; linkages 

and teleconnections between polar regions and the Earth system; and the poles as a vantage 

point to observe Earth, near-Earth space, the Solar System and beyond. The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR) is a leader in facilitating international, interdisciplinary science in Antarctica, and through its portfolio of scientific projects, committees, and 

programs provides a venue for partnerships and exchange of the latest findings. The SCAR 

accomplishes its scientific mission in close partnership with a wide range of organizations, 

including the Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs, the Convention for the 

Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, the Scientific Committee on Oceanic 

Research, the Association of Polar Early Career Scientists, and the International Arctic 

Science Committee. The SCAR works to ensure that maximum value is derived from the 

Antarctic research. Emerging frontiers and new directions in Antarctic science continue the 

historical recognition of the value of the Antarctic as a reserve for science and peace.

INTRODUCTION

As we celebrate on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Antarctic 

Treaty and the successes of the International Polar Year, it is an opportune time 

to reflect on emerging themes in Antarctic science. This is one of the most, if not 

the most, exciting times for Antarctic science in history. The study of Antarctica 

and the Southern Ocean, and their role in the Earth system, has never been more 

important as the region experiences change that has global implications. The 

Antarctic region is a “natural laboratory” for scientific research of importance 

in its own right and impossible to achieve elsewhere on the planet. In addition, sound science and knowledge-based advice have never been more critical 

New Frontiers and Future Directions 

in Antarctic Science

Mahlon Kennicutt II

Mahlon Kennicutt II, Scientific Committee on 

Antarctic Research and Department of Oceanography, Texas A&M University, Room 608 

O&M Building, 3146 TAMU, College Station, 

Texas 77843-3146, USA. Correspondence: 

m-kennicutt@tamu.edu.
154 • science diplomacy

to the policy community to inform decision making and 

to support complex environmental stewardship and conservation efforts in Antarctica. The Scientific Committee 

on Antarctic Research (SCAR), as an interdisciplinary, 

international scientific body of the International Council 

of Science (ICSU), has been a facilitator and champion 

of Antarctic science for more than 50 years, dating back 

to the beginnings of the Antarctic Treaty (Walton, this 

volume).

PREDICTING FUTURE TRENDS 

IN ANTARCTIC SCIENCES

Predicting future directions in Antarctic science is difficult as investments in science are decided individually by 

each nation in different ways:

•	 investments in science are national enterprises,

•	 processes for setting scientific priorities are highly 

variable among nations,

•	 future directions are dependent on the outcome of “in 

progress” research,

•	 trajectories can be non-linear or discontinuous, and

•	 technology and science can be decoupled.

Indeed, science can drive technology and technology 

can drive science.

Looking at the broad sweep of Antarctic science, several trends are discernable. Antarctica, as a geographic 

focus for science, is unique in that the community of scientists that conduct research in the region come from almost 

all scientific disciplines. In the twenty-first century, Antarctic science will be increasingly called upon to address 

complex questions that require sophisticated and diverse 

technologies. In the twenty-first century, an Earth system 

science approach is fundamental to understanding Antarctica’s past, present, and future, and in most instances, 

Antarctic science will be pursued within an interdisciplinary framework. Understanding the Earth system, its components, connections and feedbacks is a major endeavor 

of contemporary Antarctic science and research. Antarctic 

research will generate large and complex volumes of diverse data and information, require transcontinental or at 

least region-wide investigations to address scientific questions, and entail greater access to all areas of the continent.

On the basis of a review of the International Polar 

Year (IPY) project database, a wide range of planning documents, and conferring with leaders in Antarctic science, 

several major scientific themes are apparent:

•	 Antarctica and global climate;

•	 deciphering paleoclimate;

•	 organisms, ecosystems, and biodiversity;

•	 subglacial aquatic environments;

•	 exploration beneath the ice;

•	 cryospheric observing and modeling;

•	 ice sheet dynamics and sea level;

•	 Southern Ocean observing and modeling; and

•	 the poles as a vantage point.

Life Sciences. Although thought of as a cold and isolated environment, Antarctica is undergoing significant 

change due to regional climate warming, ozone depletion, non-native species introductions, global transport of 

contaminants, increased scientific and tourist visits, and 

natural resource exploitation and extraction. Biologically, Antarctica and the Southern Ocean are centers of 

evolutionary divergence and adaptation to environmental 

extremes. Antarctic life sciences research focuses on understanding the effect of past, current, and predicted environmental change on biodiversity, adaptation, organism 

functioning, ecosystem structure/function and the effects 

of cold, darkness, and isolation on organisms and ecosystems, both on the continent and in the Southern Ocean.

Geosciences. The Antarctic continent and surrounding oceans have been key elements of the Earth system 

throughout the history of the planet. The basement of Antarctica is built of a suite of crustal blocks that were parts 

of various supercontinents and the continent contains 

outcrops that provide insight into Earth processes in the 

distant past. Sedimentary records on and around Antarctica provide glimpses of paleohistory and variations in the 

Earth’s environment over the eons, harboring clues to the 

evolution of Antarctica. Geodetic and geophysical observatories document the geodynamics of the continent. Antarctic geosciences research focuses on continental crustal 

structure and composition, geodynamical processes, the 

record of life in a warmer Antarctica, the effects of geological processes on Antarctic biota and understanding the 

controls on ice sheet evolution and stability.

Physical Sciences. Processes at the interfaces between 

ice, ocean, land and atmosphere are key to understanding climate dynamics and predicting future climate. The 

nearly pole centered continent of Antarctica gives it a 

unique place in the global climate system. The role of, and 

the impact upon, the polar regions in climate processes 

are a focus of Antarctic physical sciences research. This 

research aims to understand ice sheet dynamics, climate 

records from ice cores, changes in sea ice distribution and 

ocean circulation, atmospheric dynamics and chemistry, 
KENNICUTT / NEW FRONTIERS IN ANTARCTIC SCIENCE • 155

oceanic upwelling and melting ice shelves and the impact 

of the ozone hole on Antarctic climate. The Antarctic continent is also a unique place for astronomical and solarterrestrial observations of phenomena such as interactions 

between the Sun and the Earth.

This chapter reviews these major themes and highlights some of the ongoing programs and projects illustrative of future directions. Reflective of the truly integrated 

nature of modern Antarctic science, many scientific programs crosscut interdisciplinary scientific themes. This 

chapter can only provide a partial glimpse of the complex 

web of science programs that link thousands of scientists 

in more than 30 countries collectively forming modern 

Antarctic science.

ANTARCTICA AND GLOBAL CLIMATE

By far the most pervasive theme in Antarctic science is 

climate change. The study of climate change in the region 

and linkages with the global climate system will occupy 

Antarctic scientists for many years to come.

The Antarctic is a critically important part of the Earth 

system. The climate, physical, and biological properties 

of the continent and the surrounding ocean are closely 

coupled to other parts of the global environment by the 

ocean and the atmosphere. Antarctica contains approximately 90% of the world’s ice and approximately 70% of 

the world’s freshwater, which is enough to raise sea level 

by 63 m. It also holds high-resolution records of past climate change and sensitive biological indicators of contemporary change. For example, the Antarctic ozone hole was 

one of the most significant scientific discoveries of the last 

century and resulted in major changes in environmental 

management throughout the world (Benedick, 1998). For 

the last 30 years the ozone hole has shielded the Antarctic 

from the effects of “global warming.” The western coast 

of the Antarctic Peninsula is experiencing one of the most 

rapid rises in mean temperature anywhere on Earth. The 

Southern Ocean warming causes change in both terrestrial 

and marine ecosystems. There has been a rapid expansion 

of the area covered by the two flowering plants on the 

Antarctic Peninsula. Parts of the Antarctic are losing ice at 

a rapid rate. Paleoclimate studies in Antarctica show the 

current changes in global climate are unusual. Assuming a 

doubling of greenhouse gas concentrations over the next 

century, Antarctica is predicted to warm significantly, with 

the largest increases experienced by West Antarctica.

The instrumental records from the research stations 

and automatic weather stations are valuable but are 

generally too short to provide enough data for climate 

trend analyses where changes need to be looked at over 

decades, centuries, or even longer. When these records are 

integrated with proxy records of change from ice and sediment cores, they offer a powerful tool for climate analyses. 

The SCAR has released a comprehensive synthesis of current understanding of Antarctic climate science, Antarctic 

Climate Change and the Environment (Turner et al., 2009; 

this report has been widely distributed and is available 

from the SCAR Web site, http://www.scar.org). The report 

concludes that a key objective for future Antarctic climate 

studies is to improve representations of polar processes in 

models so that more-accurate predictions are produced. 

Higher-resolution global models, regional climate models, 

and ecosystem and ice sheet models are required. Climate 

models require better simulations of polar-specific processes, such as sea ice and the atmospheric boundary layer.

Climate variability in the polar regions is greater than 

in other parts of the world, and improved monitoring and 

more detailed understanding of past climate are needed 

in order to discriminate natural variability from anthropogenic influences. There is an urgent need to establish 

marine and terrestrial biological baseline monitoring programs in order to understand past change and to establish the links between physical and biological variability. 

There is a requirement for greater cross- and interdisciplinary observational efforts linked to modeling studies 

that will be discussed later.

In order to better understand climate variability a detailed understanding of past climate is essential. Gaps in 

records of past climate archived in ice and sedimentary 

cores must be filled. This objective is accomplished by 

several differing approaches that increase the spatial and 

temporal coverage of climate records. Because of the remoteness of the continent, Antarctica is an ideal location 

to study local- to global-scale climate change. However, 

this remoteness has also prevented the collection of instrumental records, similar to those collected in the Northern 

Hemisphere, that are required to assess Antarctica’s role in 

and response to environmental and climate change.

The continued study of surface and near-surface ice 

core records is essential. High-resolution ice core records 

are the most direct way to document climate with resolutions as fine as seasonal and, potentially, on time scales as 

long as a million years. Fundamental issues of spatial and 

temporal climatic and environmental variability still need 

to be addressed by determining the spatial variability of 

Antarctic climate over the last 200 years, and where the 

data are available, the last 1000 years. High-resolution 

ice core records are also critical for establishing spatial 
156 • science diplomacy

gradients in ice core properties as a complement to deep 

ice core records that support the objective of obtaining the 

oldest ice core record in Antarctica. The search for a 1.5 

million year record of climate and greenhouse gases from 

Antarctica will extend knowledge of past climate change, 

much as the European Project for Ice Coring in Antarctica 

(EPICA) ice core supplemented the Vostok ice core climate 

record.

Complementary to ice core records are climate records 

contained in sedimentary sequences. Recovery and interpretation of sedimentary records of climate change are the 

objectives of several major programs including Antarctic 

Geological Drilling (ANDRILL; http://www.andrill.org/), 

Shallow Drilling on the Antarctic Continental Margin 

(SHALDRILL; http://www.shaldril.rice.edu), the Integrated Ocean Drilling Program (IODP; http://www.iodp

.org/), and integrative synthesis programs such as SCAR’s 

Antarctic Climate Evolution (ACE) program. Studies of 

the greenhouse world 50 mya imply a higher “climate sensitivity” than currently accepted, suggesting the potential 

for additional positive feedbacks not currently represented 

in climate models.

Knowledge of the behavior of Polar Regions in a highCO2

 world still remains one of the greatest uncertainties in 

predicting future climate response. There is a continuing 

need to recover Antarctic geological records beyond the 

age range of ice cores, dating as far back as 30–50 mya

when Earth’s atmospheric CO2 was two to four times 

higher than at present, the high end of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) projections for 

2100. Major scientific objectives in the geosciences include 

obtaining geological records that sample past Antarctic 

ice sheet dynamics and integrate climate and ice sheet 

proxy data with the latest generation of coupled ice sheet–

climate models. Much remains to be accomplished in these 

research areas.

Finally, it will be essential to integrate sedimentary, 

ice, and instrumental records of climate change with climate and ice sheet models to constrain predictions of 

future change. Each type of climate record contributes differing spatial and temporal records of past climate change 

that together provide a comprehensive picture of climate 

forcings.

ANTARCTIC ORGANISMS, ECOSYSTEM, 

AND BIODIVERSITY

Research directions in the life sciences will build on 

current research being conducted by programs such as 

SCAR’s Scientific Research Program Evolution and Biodiversity in Antarctica (EBA). Although significant advances have been made in recent years, Antarctica’s 

biological and ecological domains remain, to a large extent, unexplored. Antarctic life scientists strive to understand the evolution and diversity of life in Antarctica to 

determine how evolution and biodiversity have produced 

Antarctic ecosystems. Understanding of ecosystem functioning is fundamental.

One of the most important recent developments in 

life sciences in the Antarctic is the increase in knowledge 

of biodiversity in the terrestrial and marine settings, especially the deep sea. We also know that organisms and 

biodiversity are beginning to change in response to climate change. There is a great need to describe the living 

residents of Antarctica and to better understand their origins. There is also a critical need to document nonendemic 

species as climate change affects floral and faunal ranges 

worldwide and the probability of alien introductions increases (Frenot et al., 2005).

Life sciences research in the Antarctic focuses on three 

main ecological topics that are important worldwide: 

changes in habitats, loss of biodiversity, and the effect of 

climate change. A first step in improving our basic understanding is to document what organisms are present. An 

excellent example of one such program is the Census of 

Antarctic Marine Life (CAML). The CAML investigated 

the distribution and abundance of Antarctica’s marine biodiversity to develop a benchmark (http://www.caml.aq).

Life sciences research in Antarctica has a long history 

of studying adaptations, ecosystem function and structure, 

and the physiology of the unique organisms that inhabit 

Antarctica. Much research on these topics is expected to 

continue to address basic questions about life in the cold 

and dark, life in subglacial aquatic environments (which I 

will return to), and life at the extremes of our planet. Research objectives will require extension of observations beyond the traditional summer season and the application of 

modern methods in molecular genomics and proteomics.

Antarctic biodiversity and biogeography will remain 

a topic of high interest for years to come. An exemplary 

program is the SCAR Marine Biodiversity Information 

Network (SCAR-MarBIN; http://www.scarmarbin.be), 

which is the Antarctic node for the Ocean Biogeographic 

Information System (OBIS) and a companion project of 

CAML. The SCAR-MarBIN is a distributed system of interoperable databases that compiles and manages existing 

and new information on Antarctic marine biodiversity.

Subsequent to the Larsen Ice Shelf collapse, the first 

observations of cold seep communities in Antarctic were 
KENNICUTT / NEW FRONTIERS IN ANTARCTIC SCIENCE • 157

recorded. These unique communities and possibly hydrothermal vent communities are being considered as possible 

vulnerable marine areas in need of special protection. These 

sites also present opportunities to study unusual ecosystems that have only recently been identified in Antarctica.

The success of the Convention for the Conservation 

of Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR) in promoting an 

ecosystem management approach to Southern Ocean fisheries relies, to a considerable extent, on the marine biology 

undertaken by SCAR scientists. The changes in the Southern Ocean food webs attributable to recent fish, squid, and 

krill harvesting suggest that this research will be even more 

important in the future, especially in the establishment of 

marine protected areas and the monitoring of secondary 

effects of fishing on higher predators.

Today, Antarctica is almost 99.7% covered by permanent ice and snow, and evidence suggests that as recently 

as the Last Glacial Maximum, ice sheets were both thicker 

and much more extensive than they are now. Most, if 

not all, of the currently ice-free ground would have been 

overridden by ice during previous glaciations, suggesting that Antarctic preglacial terrestrial life was wiped out 

by successive glacial events. This, in turn, suggests that 

most, possibly all, contemporary terrestrial life has colonized the continent during subsequent periods of glacial 

retreat. A combination of recent biological and geological data compiled by Convey et al. (2008) challenges this 

paradigm. New and complex conclusions about terrestrial 

Antarctic biogeography suggest greater regionalization 

and evolutionary isolation than previously suspected for 

circum-Antarctic marine fauna. These findings require the 

adoption of a new biological paradigm within Antarctica 

and challenge current understanding of Antarctic glacial 

history. Future research that will flow from these investigations will have major implications for understanding the 

key role of Antarctica in the Earth system.

SUBGLACIAL AQUATIC ENVIRONMENTS

The study and exploration of subglacial aquatic environments is at its beginnings. Subglacial aquatic environment research by its nature is highly interdisciplinary 

and is poised to fundamentally change our view of how 

Antarctica responds as part of the Earth system. The study 

of these environments will contribute to a wide range of 

Antarctic scientific topics, including the tectonic evolution 

and history of the continent, the importance of subglacial 

hydrology in ice sheet and ice stream dynamics, and the 

adaptation of microbial life in these unique environments. 

It is also conjectured that these environments may hold 

records of the past climate of the interior of the continent 

and that outbursts of subglacial waters have been important processes over geologic time.

There are three major subglacial lake exploration programs projecting lake entry and sampling in 2011–2012. 

These projects include the long-term studies at Lake 

Vostok, the studies of subglacial Lake Ellsworth, and 

coordinated studies of the Whillans Ice Stream. International, field-intensive programs are exploring the Antarctic continent hidden beneath kilometers of ice in East and 

West Antarctica. These studies use a range of technologies 

and are providing a view of the basement beneath the Antarctic ice sheet never before seen. International coordination of the science is through a SCAR Group of Specialists 

(http://www.sale.scar.org/).

EXPLORATION BENEATH THE ICE

Three projects highlight future directions in Antarctic geosciences: Antarctica’s Gamburtsev Province Project 

(AGAP), Ice and Climate Evolution of the Central Antarctic Plate (ICECAP), and Polar Earth Observing Network 

(POLENET). The AGAP is exploring the history of the East 

Antarctic ice sheet and lithospheric structure of the Gamburtsev subglacial mountains, a major mountain range 

buried by the East Antarctica Ice Sheet, which includes 

numerous subglacial lakes. AGAP is a multinational and 

multidisciplinary program that includes aerogeophysics, 

traverse programs, passive seismic experiments, and ice 

core and bedrock drilling.

The objective is to better understand the tectonic origin of the Gamburtsev Mountains, providing crucial new 

data for ice sheet and climate models (Bo et al., 2009). 

Fundamental questions to be addressed include

•	 What role does topography play in the nucleation of 

continental ice sheets?

•	 How are major elevated continental massifs formed 

within intraplate settings but without a straightforward plate tectonic mechanism?

•	 How do tectonic processes control the formation, distribution, and stability of subglacial lakes?

•	 Where is the oldest climate record in the Antarctic ice 

sheet?

The ICECAP is a collaborative program between the 

United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia to use a 

multi-instrumented long-range aircraft over three austral 
158 • science diplomacy

summers to survey portions of the East Antarctic Ice Sheet. 

The ICECAP is acquiring aerogeophysical observations to 

determine ice thickness and date internal layers in support 

of ice sheet modeling, observing flow regime change recorded in the internal layers. and studying crustal geology 

and subglacial hydrological systems from the perspective 

of processes controlling past and future change in the East 

Antarctic Ice Sheet.

The POLENET is a collaborative, international project to understand how the Earth’s surface responds to 

changes in polar ice sheets. The POLENET project is collecting GPS and seismic data from stations at remote sites 

spanning much of Antarctica. Integrated GPS and seismic 

measurements are used to model how much ice has been 

lost over the past 10,000 years. A combination of groundbased and satellite data is used to determine where, and at 

what rate, the ice sheets are changing in response to recent 

climate change.

CRYOSPHERIC OBSERVATIONS 

AND MODELING

The Global Inter-agency IPY Polar Snapshot Year 

(GIIPSY) project collects data to understand the role of 

polar processes in climate change, the contribution of the 

polar ice sheet to sea level, and ice sheet and ocean interactions. An ambitious schedule of missions over the next 

several years is already planned. Satellite observations 

support a wide range of research efforts.

Some regions of Antarctica, particularly the peninsula, have warmed rapidly in recent years, contributing 

to the disintegration of ice shelves and accelerating the 

sliding of glaciers. These events have focused attention 

on the stability of the West Antarctic Ice Sheet (WAIS) 

as much of it is grounded below sea level. The WAIS Divide ice core will provide Southern Hemisphere climate 

and greenhouse gas records comparable in time resolution and duration to the Greenland ice cores. The WAIS 

Divide ice core will also be used to test models of WAIS 

history and stability.

Recent findings suggest that from 1957 through 2006, 

temperatures across Antarctica rose an average of 0.2°F 

(0.1°C) per decade, comparable to global warming rates. 

In East Antarctica, where temperatures had been thought 

to be falling, researchers have found a slight warming over 

the last 50 years.

There is growing consensus that the Antarctic ice 

sheet is experiencing net mass loss. The long-term trends 

in these data will be of interest for years to come. Sea level 

has risen in recent years, mostly because of thermal expansion of the world’s ocean, glacier melt, and losses of 

mass from the Greenland ice sheet. However, as previously 

noted, the ice sheets of Antarctica are the major global 

reservoir of freshwater and represent by far the greatest 

potential for sea level rise in the future. The status of and 

trends in the Antarctic cryosphere will be of high interest 

for years to come (Rohling et al., 2009).

SOUTHERN OCEAN OBSERVING 

AND MODELING

As for Antarctica’s cryosphere, a better understanding 

of the Southern Ocean is critical to anticipating and predicting response to climate change. The Southern Ocean 

has a global influence with the potential for significant 

feedbacks. There is evidence that changes in the Southern 

Ocean are underway, but sparse observations make interpretations difficult.

System-scale observations of the Southern Ocean are 

critical. Integrated multidisciplinary observations are necessary to understand and ultimately predict the response 

of biota to changes in physical drivers. An integrated, 

coordinated, and broadly multidisciplinary approach to 

a Southern Ocean observing system is being developed. 

Some elements are already in place, such as (1) repeat hydrography, (2) ships of opportunity, (3) Argo floats (http://

www.argo.ucsd.edu/newsletter.html), (4) tagging of marine mammals (http://biology.st-andrews.ac.uk/seaos), (5) 

SCAR continuous plankton recorder, and (6) satellites 

(e.g., Sea-viewing Wide Field-of-view Sensor [SeaWiFS]; 

http://oceancolor.gsfc.nasa.gov/SeaWiFS).

Ocean acidification due to uptake of atmospheric carbon dioxide can be deleterious to many marine organisms 

and ecosystems. Predicted ocean acidification (McNeil and 

Matear, 2008) is expected to cause major changes in nutrients, phytoplankton diversity, biodiversity, biogeochemical cycles, marine community structure and robustness, 

and calcification rates while reducing behavioral capacity, 

growth, production, life span, and tolerance to environmental fluctuations. Following this growing problem will 

be a focus of research for years to come.

THE POLES AS A VANTAGE POINT

Antarctica possesses special advantages for astronomers with its clear skies, high plateau, low humidity, and 

stable atmosphere (Storey, 2005). Increasing investment in 
KENNICUTT / NEW FRONTIERS IN ANTARCTIC SCIENCE • 159

a range of telescopes at the South Pole and Dome C has 

provided major new facilities for the international community. Antarctic astronomy and astrophysics will address fundamental questions in the next decade, including

•	 locating first stars, first galaxies, and reionization 

tomography;

•	 defining the nature of the dark universe;

•	 detecting gravity waves;

•	 identifying exoplanets and the formation of exo-solar 

systems;

•	 exploring variations in fundamental constants;

•	 searching for extra dimensions; and

•	 defining the transient universe.

One program, IceCube (http://icecube.lbl.gov), is 

searching for neutrinos from the most violent astrophysical sources, events like exploding stars, gamma ray 

bursts, and cataclysmic phenomena involving black holes 

and neutron stars. The IceCube telescope could reveal the 

physical processes associated with the enigmatic origin of 

the highest-energy particles in nature.

Near-Earth space (geospace) is an integral part of the 

Earth system, providing the material link between the 

Sun and Earth, primarily through the polar regions. Research in this area will create an integrated, quantitative 

description of the upper atmosphere over Antarctica and 

its coupling to the geospace environment. The Super Dual 

Auroral Radar Network (SuperDARN; http://superdarn

.jhuapl.edu/), an international radar network, studies the 

Earth’s upper atmosphere, ionosphere, and connection 

into space.

CONCLUSIONS

The realities of conducting research in the southern 

polar regions bring with it great challenges but also great 

opportunities. The questions being asked by those with 

interests in Antarctica, the Southern Ocean and the Earth 

system are more complex and demanding than ever before. The critical role of scientific knowledge developed 

from the study of Antarctica and the Southern Ocean has 

never been more important in discerning the future of our 

planet. Antarctica and the Southern Ocean are a natural laboratories where global forces play out in ways not 

experienced or observable elsewhere on the planet. Antarctica also serves as a unique vantage point to look outwards from our planet to observe near-Earth space, our 

solar system and beyond. In a time of economic stress, it 

is important that resources be used to optimum affect, 

that investments in science in Antarctica be justified, and 

that the community develops and shares a collective vision of future scientific directions. A well-conceived 

strategy is not only essential but critical. This partial review of major themes in Antarctic science over the next 

10–20 years illustrates what an exciting and productive 

time is in store for Antarctic scientists. A combination 

of scientific ideas and societal issues will drive future research directions. Twenty-first century Antarctic science 

and research will address complex questions that require 

holistic, interdisciplinary, international, and technologically intensive experiments that will require access to 

all of Antarctica. The need for access to data and data 

sharing will increase along with the necessity for evermore-sophisticated data and information infrastructure 

to collect, store, archive, and synthesize the vast amounts 

of data that will be generated.

Antarctica evokes a sense of discovery as a location of 

unexplored places and the origin of surprising findings that 

inspire unconventional thinking. In the next few decades 

the Antarctic science community will build on its history of 

accomplishment and elevate the presence and importance 

of Antarctic science in the global conversation. There are 

opportunities for coordination, partnerships, and synergy 

that build on the historical international partnerships that 

epitomize Antarctic science. Where our community will be 

in 10 or 20 years is only limited by our imagination, as the 

future is in our hands!

LITERATURE CITED

Benedick, R. 1998. Ozone Diplomacy. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

Bo, S., M. J. Siegert, S. M. Mudd, D. Sugden, S. Fujita, C. Xiangbin, 

J. Yunyun, T. Xueyuan, and L. Yuansheng. 2009. The Gamburtsev 

Mountains and the Origin and Early Evolution of the Antarctic Ice 

Sheet. Nature, 459:690–693.

Convey, P., J. A. E. Gibson, C. D. Hillenbrand, D. A. Hodgson, P. J. A. 

Pugh, J. L. Smellie, and M. I. Stevens. 2008. Antarctic Terrestrial 

Life: Challenging the History of the Frozen Continent? Biological 

Reviews, 83:103–117.

Frenot, Y., S. L. Chown, J. Whinam, P. M. Selkirk, P. Convey, M. Skotnicki, and D. M. Bergstrom. 2005. Biological Invasions in the 

Antarctic: Extent, Impacts and Implications. Biological Reviews,

80:45–72.

McNeil, B. I., and R. J. Matear. 2008. Southern Ocean Acidification: A Tipping Point at 450-ppm Atmospheric CO2

. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States, 

105(48):18,860–18,864.

Retamales, J., and M. Rogan-Finnemore. 2011 (this volume). “The Role 

of the Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs.” In 
160 • science diplomacy

Science Diplomacy: Antarctica, Science, and the Governance of International Spaces, ed. P. A. Berkman, M. A. Lang, D. W. H. Walton, and O Young, pp. 231–239. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian 

Institution Scholarly Press.

Rohling, E. J., K. Grant, M. Bolshaw, A. P. Roberts, M. Siddall, C. Hemleben, and M. Kucera. 2009. Antarctic Temperature and Global Sea 

Level Closely Coupled over the Past Five Glacial Cycles. Nature 

Geoscience, 2(7):500–504

Storey, J. W. V. 2005. Astronomy from Antarctica. Antarctic Science,

17(4):555–560.

Turner, J., R. A. Bindschadler, P. Convey, G. Di Prisco, E. Fahrbach, 

J. Gutt, D. A. Hodgson, P. A. Mayewski, and C. P. Summerhayes, 

eds. 2009. Antarctic Climate Change and the Environment. Cambridge: Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research.

Walton, D. W. H. 2011 (this volume). “The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research and the Antarctic Treaty.” In Science Diplomacy: 

Antarctica, Science, and the Governance of International Spaces, 

ed. P. A. Berkman, M. A. Lang, D. W. H. Walton, and O Young, 

pp. 75–88. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Scholarly 

Press.
Research in the polar regions, in particular in Antarctica and the Southern Ocean, is demanding on scientists, equipment, and financial resources. However, it is also urgently needed by governments, not only 

because of the sensitivity of the polar regions to global change in real 

time but also because of the role of the polar regions as major drivers for global 

climate and environmental changes (e.g., sea level, ocean circulation through the 

“conveyor belt,” etc.). As highlighted by the present president of the Scientific 

Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR), Antarctic research is research at the 

“frontiers to the unknown” (subglacial geology, subglacial lakes, ice older than 

1 million years, etc.), and the topics selected for the Antarctic Treaty Summit 

(the ozone hole, the ice core story, cosmology from Antarctica, and the Southern 

Ocean) not only cover an enormous range of scales in time and space but also 

demonstrate the excellence and relevance of Antarctic research.

Research in Antarctica and the Southern Ocean is challenging and also dangerous because the environment is hostile to mankind, and thus, it is exceptionally important that we have the right tools. Are we properly equipped and are 

our methods robust and safe? During the last International Polar Year (IPY) 

many traverses were organised using nonspecialist vehicles, but frequent breakdowns of vehicles illustrated how dangerous they could be; luckily, no lives were 

lost. Over the past 50 years many stations have been established in Antarctica, 

probably too many in some places (i.e., the situation on King George Island). 

Some are now outdated and little used, and yet the international exchange of 

scientists that could use these station is really in its infancy. The hypermodern 

French-Italian station on Dome Concordia is an extraordinary exception and 

shows that at least at the bilateral level international stations are possible (compare with the Argentine-German station at Jubany). The leading nations in Antarctic research should be more forthcoming with their support to the emerging 

polar research nations, certainly much more than they have been so far, through 

sharing their infrastructure, both on land and at sea, as well as developing their 

scientific programs jointly with their “younger” partners.

There have been remarkable political changes in the attitude of nations with 

interests in Antarctic research. First, there are a remarkable number of new nations that have joined SCAR, adding strength to all of the scientific efforts in and 

Modern Research in Polar Regions

Jörn Thiede

Jörn Thiede, Alfred Wegener Institute, Am Handelshafen 12, D-27570 Bremerhaven, Germany. 

Correspondence, jt@geo.ku.dk.
162 • science diplomacy

around Antarctica. Second, we have seen the emergence of 

regional groups of nations that found value in coordinating their polar research with the aim of supporting and 

strengthening their scientific efforts. For example, the European Polar Board of the European Science Foundation 

has succeeded in raising enough interest with the political 

authorities of the European Union to generate substantial 

European funding for some aspects of Antarctic research 

(e.g., the European Project for Ice Coring in Antarctica 

[EPICA] project). The same applies to nations in the Far 

East (PAG), where nations now coordinate their Arctic 

and Antarctic research efforts.

The Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP), with the help of SCAR, has established 

new systems to relieve precious polar research vessels from 

logistical obligations in East Antarctica, thus giving them 

more cruise time for science, and an increased transport 

efficiency more like that in New Zealand and Australia. 

The Dronning Maud Land Air Network (DROMLAN) 

serves blue ice runways close to the Russian Novolazarevskaja and the Norwegian Troll stations directly from 

Cape Town, thus allowing many researchers much more 

rapid access to their Antarctic laboratories and, again, 

saving substantial amounts of precious research time. 

The shipping network Dronning Maud Land Shipment 

(DROMSHIP) employs an ice-strengthened freighter (also 

from Cape Town) with the aim of conserving ship time 

of dedicated polar research vessels that would otherwise 

have to be used for logistical purposes. More sharing of 

transport systems must be adopted as operators look for 

ways of reducing costs while increasing efficiencies.

Dedicated ice-breaking polar research vessels are rare 

and are usually not in the Southern Ocean during the unfavourable seasons of the year. There is a pressing demand 

for research ships that can master Antarctic winter sea 

ice and the storms of the Southern Ocean. The capacities 

of large modern research ice breakers will probably also 

require a system of international consortia to run such 

vessels.

Progress in the internationalisation of Antarctic and 

Southern Ocean research has been slow, despite the IPYs, 

and I relate this to the fragmented nature of the organisations supporting science-related activities in high southern 

latitudes. The Antarctic Treaty (AT) with its recently established office in Buenos Aires, SCAR and the Convention for the Conservation of Marine Living Resources 

(CCAMLR) with their separate offices, and the loose link 

between COMNAP and SCAR are all examples of this 

fragmentation. The linkage to the International Arctic 

Science Committee (IASC) in the north is only growing 

slowly and needs to be much better developed in the future because the two polar regions share many interesting 

attributes. The 50th Anniversary of the AT offered a wonderful opportunity to consider these problems, and one 

would hope that the coming years will be used to promote 

the internationalisation of research in Antarctica and the 

Southern Ocean. One important feature is that scientific 

data are deposited in internationally accessible data banks 

and hence open to the international science community. 

There is so much to be done and space for everybody to 

contribute to sustainable scientific exploration. The momentum of polar research gained during the Fourth IPY 

should not be lost but used to keep a young and motivated 

generation of researchers engaged in the polar regions, 

while more new countries join the relevant international 

organisations.

ANTARCTIC AND GLOBAL STEWARDSHIP: 

TIMES OF CHANGE IN THE NATURE 

OF POLAR RESEARCH

I have had the privilege to be involved in polar research both in high northern and southern latitudes for 

the past 30 years. My first exposure to the Arctic Ocean 

was the famous Swedish YMER-80 expedition, which was 

organised to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Nordenskjöld’s first crossing of the Northern Sea Route on 

Vega. Political problems with the Soviet government prevented the Ymer from following Nordenskjöld’s course. 

The Ymer therefore visited the deep waters around Svalbard and demonstrated for the first time that research 

could be done from conventional ice breakers in these difficult and ice-infested waters. Now, research icebreakers 

routinely plow the Arctic Ocean and are able to visit the 

North Pole. As chairman of European Polar Board (EPB) 

of the European Science Foundation (ESF) and president 

of SCAR as well as director of the German Alfred Wegener Institute, I have been able to have some influence 

on research in high southern latitudes and to contribute 

to their activities myself. I am extremely happy that the 

methods of doing polar research are experiencing a phase 

of rapid change, which is needed both to keep the attention and interest of politicians and to ensure the attraction 

of this type of research for the young generation of polar 

scientists who are appearing in a growing number of polar 

and nonpolar countries. An increasing number of smaller 

nonpolar countries are now entering the polar research 

arena, and the big “players” would be well advised to 

offer any assistance possible both to ensure a broadening 
THIEDE / MODERN RESEARCH IN POLAR REGIONS • 163

of the constituency of interests and to underpin the quality 

of all polar research.

The SCAR has played a central role in this development, and it continuously has to make sure that it remains 

the central and most qualified scientific organization in 

Antarctic research. Only in this way will it remain the best 

source for scientific advice to the Antarctic Treaty System 

(ATS). The membership of SCAR therefore has to be recruited from the best and most experienced scientists in 

its member countries. There is no monopoly in Antarctic 

sciences, and SCAR will be wise to play its role in close 

collaboration with other relevant international science organisations. It must promote excellence in Antarctic and 

Southern Ocean research, but providing scientific leadership also requires focus because nobody can do everything. The scheme of strategic research themes developed 

by SCAR represents an attempt at defining the most challenging scientific problems in Antarctica and the Southern 

Ocean as well as providing a series of umbrellas to gather 

in and focus research from rich and poorer countries alike.

The SCAR has changed greatly over the past 10 years 

from an almost “closed shop” into an open science organisation. The introduction of the Open Science Conferences 

since 2004 has attracted many established as well as numerous young polar scientists. They have provided an important base for the large efforts of the Fourth IPY, which 

brought more than 50,000 scientists into the polar regions.

In its role advising the ATS, SCAR has to strive to 

provide independent, high-quality advice, and it also has 

to critically evaluate the methods and ethics of the conduct 

of Antarctic research. To retain its position as the major 

scientific advisory body, SCAR has to express informed 

opinions on Antarctic research, be proactive in flagging 

important new developments for the ATS, and respond as 

far as possible to requests from the ATS; the recent publication of a major report on the impact of climate change 

in the Antarctic is an excellent example of this change in 

SCAR’s attitude. The SCAR has succeeded in regaining the 

attention of the ATS and can look with confidence into the 

future in this area of science diplomacy.

However, the future is not without dangers, and I am 

extremely happy that the Forever Declaration of Antarctic 

Treaty Summit clearly highlights the importance of science and research for the ATS. There may be a problem 

in the future with the filtering effect of the Committee for 

Environmental Protection (CEP) in the consideration of 

SCAR’s advice to the ATS, but SCAR has the opportunity 

to raise serious matters in the plenary. The separation of 

SCAR from COMNAP (in the south) and IASC from the 

Forum of Arctic Research Operators (FARO; in the north) 

weakens the impact of the polar sciences, and bipolar research topics gain momentum only slowly under the influence of the SCAR-IASC Bipolar Action Group (BipAG). 

The IASC and SCAR should find a common roof for the 

benefit of both and improve the impact of the research 

conducted under their auspices, maybe under a new “International Union of Polar Sciences.”

In considering the past 50 years of Antarctic science 

we can conclude that much has been achieved, but even 

more is left to be done. I am certain that Antarctic science 

will have a bright future and it will continue to have a 

major role to play in the future of the AT.

INTRODUCTION

Polar ice sheets and glaciers contain well-ordered archives of ancient ice that 

fell as snow, years to millions of years ago. With an ice blanket of more than 3 

km thick and an annual precipitation rate comparable to that from hyperarid 

regions (equivalent to 2–5 cm water annually), the slow-moving East Antarctic plateau has considerable potential for providing a long-undisturbed ice sequence. Because of the remoteness of inland sites along with the harsh weather 

conditions, exploration and deployment of scientific traverses or deep ice core 

drilling operations require coordination of considerable logistic support, technical, and scientific skills.

Vostok station was settled at the time of the International Geophysical Year 

(IGY) by the Soviet Union and is a location 1,400 km from the coast at 3,488 

m above sea level altitude, with an annual temperature of –55°C. Thanks to the 

Antarctic Treaty, which promoted the international collaboration, the study of 

a 2-km-deep ice core revealed the close link between temperature and atmospheric CO2

 over the last 150,000 years. This fact soon revealed the climate 

issues caused by increasing anthropogenic emissions of greenhouse gases.

The ice composition and impurities and the gases trapped in air bubbles 

provide a unique history of the past climate change and environmental and 

atmospheric composition. By reaching 3.4 km depth, the climate record was 

extended back 400,000 years, confirming the close climate–greenhouse gas relationship. This link is now further extended over 800,000 years.

At the base of the ice sheets the geothermal flux warms the ice, up to the 

melting point in some places. The water produced accumulates at the interface 

with the bedrock to form a lake. This is the case in the region of Vostok, where 

a giant lake lies under the station. Ice core drilling penetrated an ice massif of 

refrozen lake water at 3.6 km depth. The recovery of frozen lake samples opens 

new fields for research, especially for the search for life in this very extreme environment, which may help the search for life elsewhere.

The Vostok Venture: 

An Outcome of the Antarctic Treaty

Jean Robert Petit

Jean Robert Petit, Laboratoire de Glaciologie et 

Géophysique de l’Environnement, Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, Université 

Joseph Fourier BP96, F-38402 Saint-Martind’Hères CEDEX, France. Correspondence: petit

@lgge.obs.ujf-grenoble.fr.
166 • science diplomacy

THE HISTORICAL CONTEXT

Vostok station was settled during the IGY on the East 

Antarctic plateau by the Soviet Antarctic Expedition and 

was opened on 16 December 1957 (Figure 1). For the 

image and prestige of this complex operation, the site 

needed to be located at a pole, and the geomagnetic South 

Pole was chosen. The geomagnetic South Pole is where the 

axis of a virtual magnetic dipole at the center of Earth, 

producing the major part of the observed Earth magnetic 

field, crosses the surface. This location was expected to 

be favorable for studying the ionosphere and the effects 

of magnetic storms. It is situated at 79°S, 105°E, and the 

place is known to be the coldest on Earth (–89.3°C in 

July 1983). Since its founding, the station, manned by approximately a dozen persons, has been operating almost 

continuously as an observatory for ionospheric studies, 

meteorology, magnetism, aerology, geophysics, glaciology, geodesy, etc. For supply and maintenance, over the 

last 50 years Vostok station has required the deployment 

of significant logistics (airplanes, ships, tractors, etc.) and 

personnel (e.g., Lukin et al., 2006). Since the mid-1960s, 

drilling has been conducted by dedicated and resourceful 

wintering teams (Vassilev et al., 2007) with the aim of geophysical studies (e.g., study of the ice sheet temperature in 

relation to ice sheet dynamics), glaciology, and, more recently, paleoclimatology as laboratory structures and techniques dedicated to ice core geochemistry evolved (e.g., 

water isotope mass spectrometry, gas and liquid chromatography, clean rooms, etc.).

Following IGY, the signature of the Antarctic Treaty 

alleviated administrative boundaries between nations, and 

despite the political context of the cold war, it gave scientists a structure for pursuing the IGY scientific endeavor. 

Scientists from Eastern and Western countries were able to 

travel abroad to meet regularly at annual colloquia. New 

ambitious exploration projects grew and became feasible 

through international collaborations. The bipartite SovietFrench collaboration began by the 1980s and then became 

a tripartite Soviet-U.S.-French venture (Figure 1), aiming to 

FIGURE 1. Vostok Station and the 1990s tripartite collaboration for ice core studies. (top) Geomagnetic South Pole memorial and welcome signs. (bottom) Ice core “festival” and view of thin 

sections of glacier (small crystals) and lake ice (single large crystal) between crossed polarizers. The 

scale is in centimeters, and irregular thickness makes the color iridescence for the lake ice crystal 

(Photos ® Extra-Pol).
petit / THE VOSTOK VENTURE • 167

collaborate on the Vostok ice cores. This collaboration represents one of these emblematic projects that were set up 

independently from political considerations and that continued to exist despite the political context and difficulties.

THE 400,000-YEAR CLIMATE RECORD

At Vostok the ice thickness is 3,750 m, and the snow 

accumulation is only an equivalent of 2 cm annually. Such 

conditions offer a rare opportunity to obtain a long climatic 

record with relatively high time resolution. In the 1980s, 

ice core drilling reached 2,000 m depth. A first 150,000-

year record of Antarctic temperature (Lorius et al., 1985; 

Jouzel et al., 1987) and CO2 was published (Barnola et al., 

1987). In January 1996, the drill reached 3,350 m depth. 

The climate record was extended back to 420,000 years 

(Petit et al., 1999). From the stable isotope composition of 

the ice, the gases trapped in air bubbles, the atmospheric 

dust particles, and the soluble chemicals, which are kept 

frozen, together provide a unique history of past changes 

of the climate, the atmospheric composition, and the environmental conditions over oceans and continents.

The climate record (Figure 2) displays a complete natural cycle of the temperature, which oscillates by about 

12°C amplitude between the warm conditions of the present climate and the three previous interglacial periods 

(circa 120,000 bp, 220,000 bp, 330,000 bp, and 400,000 

FIGURE 2. The climatic record over the last 400,000 years deduced from the first 3,310 m of the Vostok ice core 

(adapted from Petit et al., 1999). From top to bottom: Global ice volume (in relative units) as deduced from the marine 

sediment record; temperature (difference with the present surface temperature) deduced from the stable isotope composition of the ice; records of greenhouse gases CO2

 (ppmv: parts per million in volume) and CH4 (ppbv: parts per billion 

in volume) as deduced from entrapped air bubbles; record of sodium concentration (ppb: parts per billion in mass), 

representative of sea spray aerosols; and record of dust concentration (ppm: parts per million in mass), representative of 

emissions from continental arid areas. Note that the recent increase up to the present levels for CO2

 (388 ppmv, http://

co2now.org/) and CH4 (~1800 ppbv, http://cdiac.ornl.gov/pns/current_ghg.html) are a consequence of anthropogenic 

activity since the 1850s.
168 • science diplomacy

bp), on the one hand, and the cold conditions of the glacial 

periods in between (e.g., between 80,000 bp and 20,000 

bp to for the last glacial period), on the other. Most of 

this natural climate variability during glacial-interglacial 

changes occurs with periodicities corresponding to that of 

the precession, obliquity, and eccentricity of the Earth’s 

orbit, with a larger concentration of variance in the 

100,000-year band.

The “sawtooth” pattern of the Vostok temperature 

record roughly mimics the sea level changes deduced 

from marine sediment studies. The CO2 concentrations

deduced from analyses of the air bubbles also oscillate between high values of about 280 parts per million in volume (ppmv) for the preindustrial times (prior to circa ad

1850) and the warm interglacial periods and lower values 

of about 190 ppmv for the glacial periods. Indeed, the 

CO2

 record mimics the temperature record over the four 

climatic cycles, and the record in Petit et al. (1999) extended the one published 12 years before (Barnola et al., 

1987) by three more climatic cycles. In the late 1980s, a 

set of three papers dedicated to Vostok ice core published 

by Nature magazine (Jouzel et al., 1987; Barnola et al., 

1987; Genthon et al., 1987) made a large impact and generated much interest, with someone calling it a “big bang” 

for the scientific community. The link between the climate 

and the carbon cycle was clearly established, and polar ice 

became the indisputable complementary archive to marine 

sediments. More importantly, ice core records provided a 

natural record of climate and atmospheric changes from 

which the sensitivity of the surface temperature to variations of the global atmospheric composition could be deduced (Lorius et al., 1990). Looking ahead, the question 

of the potential impact of the rising CO2 concentration 

(388 ppmv today) due to anthropogenic activities on the 

climate was clearly opened. The close linkage between climate and CO2

 throughout the four climatic cycles is now 

extended over 800,000 years with the ice core at Dome 

C by the European Project for Ice Coring in Antarctica 

(EPICA) (EPICA Community Members, 2004; Luthi et al., 

2008) and supports the role of the greenhouse gases as 

amplifiers of initial orbital forcing.

OTHER ENVIRONMENTAL INFORMATION 

AND BRIDGING WITH GREENLAND RECORDS

In addition to the past temperature and atmospheric 

composition, other climatic indicators extracted from 

the ice core depicted complementary features of environmental changes (De Angelis et al., 1987; Legrand et al., 

1988; Petit et al., 1990, 1999). The much higher concentration (factor of ~50) of atmospheric dust particles 

during full glacial periods than during interglacials (Figure 2) observed over the last 800,000 years (Wolff et al., 

2006; Lambert et al., 2008) is interpreted as indicating 

more-extensive deserts and arid areas due to the deep cold 

climate and the very dry atmosphere. The reduced hydrological cycle caused the continental aridity, and the lower 

atmospheric cleansing induced a more-efficient aerosol 

transport to polar regions. This transport efficiency may 

also explain the higher input (factor of 5) observed for 

sea spray aerosols (sodium, Figure 2), although the role of 

sea ice extent and higher winds remains to be determined 

(Wolff et al., 2006; Petit and Delmonte, 2009).

The methane (CH4

) was also extracted and measured 

from the air bubbles. Methane is produced mostly by the 

biological activity of soils and wetlands and therefore is 

sensitive to the temperature, and at first order it follows the 

temperature (Figure 2). Indeed, methane is sensitive to temperature over the continents in the Northern Hemisphere 

(Chappellaz et al., 1993) and has a higher variability spectrum. On the other hand, methane atmospheric concentration changes at a global scale and represents a useful 

stratigraphic marker as a proxy of the Northern Hemisphere temperature, which is preserved within Antarctic 

ice. This has been used for matching the high-resolution 

EPICA Droning Maud Land ice core to the Greenland record over the last 100,000 years. During the last glacial 

period, the high-amplitude wiggles of the temperature (socalled Dansgaard-Oeschger events) recorded in the Greenland ice core result from changes in the meridional ocean 

circulation and the switch of advection of heat from the 

tropics, sometimes coincident with the northern ice cap 

discharge of armadas of icebergs. The comparison between 

Greenland and Antarctic ice core records revealed companion events in Antarctica (EPICA Community Members, 

2006). The Greenland sudden warming is out of phase by 

a few hundred years with a warm phase occurring in Antarctica, and the amplitude of Greenland warming appears 

to be proportional to the duration of the preceding Antarctic warm phase (Figure 3). Such a seesaw phenomenon 

suggests heat storage in the Southern Ocean and its distribution to the north through the Atlantic Ocean, a phenomenon reflecting millennial-scale temperature variability that 

persisted during the glacial periods of the past eight glacial 

cycles. (Loulergue et al., 2008).

Reconstructions of past environments are now recognized as important information for climatic and environmental studies. They allow assessing the degree of 

natural variability and place current observed changes in 
petit / THE VOSTOK VENTURE • 169

a broader perspective (Jansen et al., 2007). They help us 

to understand causes and mechanisms of the changes and 

contribute to validating models by comparison of output 

with empirical data. The last few hundred thousand years 

are an appropriate context in which we can learn how the 

Earth system works.

SURPRISES FROM THE DEEP ICE

In January 1998, the tripartite Russian-French-U.S. collaboration got new highlights from deep drilling by reaching 3,623 m depth, which was the deepest ice core ever 

recovered (3,667 m was then reached in 2008). The drilling 

stopped 130 m above Lake Vostok, a deep subglacial water 

body discovered and mapped earlier from satellite observations (Ridley et al., 1993). The lake extends below the ice 

sheet over an area of 15,000 km2, similar to Lake Ontario 

today. With water depth up to 1,200 m, its total volume 

represents 5,000 km3, suggesting it has been present a very 

long time (Kapitsa et al., 1996; Siegert et al., 2001).

The recovery of ice refrozen from lake water (accretion ice) at the bottom of the ice core opens an unexpected 

window to this unknown environment. The accretion ice 

formed by large ice crystals (Figure 4) as the result of a 

very slow freezing process represents the best analogue for 

lake water composition and biological content. The high 

pressure, the low temperature, the absence of solar energy, 

the nutriment supply from the very clean overlaying ice, 

and the isolation from our environment for thousands 

FIGURE 3. North-south connections: one-to-one Greenland and Antarctic climate variability during the last glacial 

period (adapted from EPICA Community Members, 2006). Stable isotope variations (100-year averages) in the 

EDML (Epica Dronning Maud Land), EDC (Epica Dome C), and Byrd ice core are compared with the NGRIP 

(North Greenland Ice Project) 18O record from northern Greenland. Temperature estimates for EDML are shown 

on the right axis. The EDML, EDC, and Byrd have been CH4

 synchronized with NGRIP. Yellow bars indicate the 

Greenland stadial (cold) periods related to respective Antarctic temperature increases.
170 • science diplomacy

(maybe millions) of years make the subglacial lakes one of 

the most extreme environments on Earth and a probable 

limit for life.

Ongoing studies of Lake Vostok accretion ice core 

show that because of the low biomass, the forward contamination of samples is a substantial problem and the 

main cause of diverse chemical and biological results 

(Priscu et al., 1999; Karl et al., 1999; Christner et al., 

2001; Bulat et al., 2004), the drilling fluid coming in 

contact with the ice being one source of contamination 

(Alekhina et al., 2007). From repeated independent investigations, the accretion ice is now found to be essentially 

carbon- and germ-free, indicating that the water body 

(at least the upper layer) beneath the ice sheet should 

support only a highly sparse life, if any. In recent studies, 

a phylotype representing the extant thermophilic facultative chemolithoautotrophic bacterium Hydrogenophilus 

thermoluteolus gave a reliable molecular biology signature and is the single print of life found to date in the 

Lake Vostok ice horizons (Bulat et al., 2004; Lavire et al., 

2006). Such thermophilic organisms are unlikely to thrive 

in the open lake, where the temperature is a little above 

zero and the high concentration of dissolved oxygen is 

expected to be a significant constraint for any bacterial 

life. Rather, they live at great depths in “hot” basement 

faults filled with sediments that may have been colonized 

soon after their formation and possibly before the onset 

of the Antarctic glaciation around 30 mya. According to 

FIGURE 4. Sketch of the glacier and lake basement along the Vostok ice flow line (adapted from 

Bulat et al., 2004). On the 3,623 m Vostok ice core, the accreted ice interval from 3,538 to 3,608 

m depth (accretion ice 1) contains visible sediment inclusions (insert on the right). Deeper ice and 

likely that down to the glacier-water interface (accretion ice 2) are clean. A glacier flows at about 

3 m per year from the northwest to southeast (insert on the left). A rise in relief is located at about 

11 km, enfolding a shallow-depth embayment where sediments could be trapped into accreted ice. 

Then the glacier floats over a ~600 m deep lake. The rock basement is characterized by escarpments 

where deep faults allow water to seep in depth and to circulate. Fault activity (explosion symbols) 

may fuel hydrothermal circulation and activate 4

He degassing from the rocks. Also represented is 

a sketch of down-core 4

He concentration (Jean Baptiste et al., 2001) showing a constant value for 

glacier ice and the change, by a factor of 3, at the glacier-accretion ice boundary. In accretion ice 

a 4

He maximum concentration suggests contribution from a shallow-depth area upstream from 

Vostok (adapted from Bulat et al., 2004).
petit / THE VOSTOK VENTURE • 171

a scenario built from the available geophysical and geochemical information, some niches have been suggested 

within deep faults or sediments close to fault mouths 

where chemolithoautotrophic microorganisms are likely 

to be protected and fed by hydrothermal fluids. The way 

they are integrated into the accretion ice, likely boosted 

by sporadic local or distant seisms, would be the result 

of the contact between the mouth of bedrock faults with 

the base of the glacier upstream from Vostok (Bulat et al., 

2004). The helium concentration (4He), which is found 

in excess in the accretion ice, supports the suggestion of 

a modest but persistent tectonic activity, although the absence of 3

He rules out the presence of hydrothermal vents 

like the black smokers observed in deep oceans that are 

associated with magma ascending into crustal fractures 

(Jean Baptiste et al., 2001).

At the bottom of Lake Vostok a deep biosphere within 

a “biotectonic environment” is likely, which represents an 

interesting alternative scenario for primary production 

consistent with the extreme environment of the lake. Finally, the multidisciplinary approach that has been developed for searching for life in the Lake Vostok ice leads 

to some guiding principles that could be applicable for 

searching life in other extreme environments or for the 

study of extraterrestrial samples (Petit et al., 2005).

TALES FROM THE FIELD AND HIGHLIGHTS 

FROM THE VOSTOK VENTURE

Drilling operations are never simple, and at Vostok 

drillers overcame many technical issues (Vassilev et al., 

2007), and unexpected events are the rule of the exploration. As an example, at the time (during the 1990s) of the 

dramatic and economical changes that occurred in connection with the collapse of the Soviet Union, Vostok station 

endured a critical epoch and had to close for winter. The 

tripartite Soviet then Russian-U.S.-French collaboration 

(1989–1998) remained in effect, however. This collaboration allowed several issues regarding providing more 

technical help and logistic support to be solved. In 1995, 

the situation improved, and drilling operations were soon 

resumed. The ice core reached 3,109 m depth, establishing 

a new world record.

The long-lasting Vostok venture is one of the fortunate outcomes from the Antarctic Treaty. The climate record and the relationship with CO2

 in the past as revealed 

by the deep ice core soon became a reference curve. This 

salient result also highlighted the potential of the ice cores 

for climate studies and promoted other projects (e.g., 

EPICA and Dome Fuji) for obtaining longer climate records (EPICA Community Members, 2004; Watanabe et 

al., 2003). At time of the IGY more than 50 years ago, by 

choosing the south geomagnetic pole for the settlement of 

Vostok station, nobody envisaged the presence of a huge 

subglacial lake there. Even more, once the subglacial body 

was known, no one expected an ice massif of frozen lake 

water at the drilling spot. As a result, a unique window to 

a subglacial environment has been offered.

Under the influence of anthropogenic activities, recent 

climate change creates a real concern about the future of 

human societies on our planet The present-day atmospheric 

CO2

 concentration and its rapid increase are likely to be 

unprecedented over the history of the past 800,000 years 

(Luthi et al., 2008). Climate scientists are trying to provide realistic assessments of how our climate will change 

in the future (Jansen et al., 2007). International collaboration helped to decipher the dynamics of the climate and 

pacing of the ice ages. The Vostok CO2

-climate correlation 

was and is still greatly impacting the ongoing research on 

the carbon cycle and its evolution in relation to climate 

changes. In this sense, the Vostok record has been one of 

the “iconic records” used throughout the various Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) assessments 

dealing with the fate of the anthropogenic CO2.

The discovery of more than 200 subglacial lakes in 

Antarctica generates a great deal of scientific and public 

discussion and speculation about the origin, nature, and 

fate of the subglacial lakes. For example, the numerous 

lakes raise questions on their possible contribution to the 

ice sheet dynamics as well as on the stability and evolution 

of the ice caps (Wingham et al., 2006). Also, the discovery 

of imprints of water on Mars and icy Europa, a Jovian 

satellite, is promoting the ever-asked question of extraterrestrial life. In this context the subglacial Antarctic lakes 

buried under more than 3,000 m of ice, representing an 

extreme environment and a limit for potential life, were 

soon taken as a possible analogue of the hydrosphere of 

such icy environments. Finally, the subglacial lakes attracted technological experiments that led to projects for 

robotic exploration promoted within Scientific Committee 

on Antarctic Research (SCAR) committees, and Vostok, 

its ice core, and its giant subglacial lake are still being 

studied is a tribute to the Antarctic Treaty.

Acknowledgments

This work is dedicated to the memory of colleagues 

from the Vostok community who have passed away. Acknowledged with gratitude are researchers, engineers, 
172 • science diplomacy

technicians, administrative personnel, and field participants from Institutes, Universities, and Academies from 

Russia, USA, and France. Field operations were supported by Russian Antarctic Expeditions (RAE), US National Science Foundation (NSF), and the French Polar 

Institute (IPEV).

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ABSTRACT. Southern Ocean processes influence climate and biogeochemical cycles on 

global scales. The Southern Ocean connects the ocean basins and links the shallow and 

deep limbs of the overturning circulation, a global-scale system of ocean currents that determines how much heat and carbon the ocean can store. The upwelling of deep waters 

releases carbon and returns nutrients that support biological productivity in the surface 

ocean; the compensating sinking of surface waters into the ocean interior sequesters carbon and heat and renews oxygen levels. The capacity of the ocean to moderate the pace of 

climate change is therefore controlled strongly by the circulation of the Southern Ocean. 

The future of the Antarctic ice sheet, and hence sea level rise, is increasingly understood 

to be determined by the rate at which the relatively warm ocean can melt floating glacial 

ice around the margin of Antarctica. Given the significance of the Southern Ocean to the 

Earth system, any change in the region would have impacts that extend well beyond the 

high southern latitudes. Recent studies suggest change is underway: the Southern Ocean is 

warming and freshening throughout most of the ocean depth; major currents are shifting 

to the south, causing regional changes in sea level and the distribution of organisms and 

supplying additional heat to melt ice around the rim of Antarctica; and the future of the 

Southern Ocean carbon sink is a topic of vigorous debate. Many of these discoveries are the 

result of the concerted multidisciplinary effort during the International Polar Year, which 

has provided an unprecedented view of the status of the Southern Ocean, a baseline for 

assessing change, and a demonstration of the feasibility, value, and timeliness of a Southern 

Ocean Observing System. The sustained observations of the Southern Ocean provided by 

such an observing system are essential to provide the knowledge needed to inform policy 

decisions and wise stewardship of the region.

THE ROLE OF THE SOUTHERN OCEAN 

IN THE EARTH SYSTEM

For many years, studies of the Southern Ocean were somewhat neglected by 

the Antarctic science community. The “real” Antarctic science took place on the 

continent itself; the rough ocean crossing was the uncomfortable prelude and 

postscript to a season of excitement in the last great wilderness on Earth. However, growing recognition of the global influence of Southern Ocean processes 

has heightened interest in oceanographic studies of the region.

The Southern Ocean in the Earth System

Stephen R. Rintoul

Stephen R. Rintoul, Centre for Australian 

Weather and Climate Research, and Antarctic 

Climate and Ecosystem Cooperative Research 

Centre, Wealth from Oceans National Research 

Flagship, GPO Box 1538, Hobart, Tasmania 

7001, Australia. Correspondence: steve.rintoul@

csiro.au.
176 • science diplomacy

Southern Ocean oceanography, in fact, got off to an 

early start, and many important oceanographic discoveries 

had been made even before the continent itself was discovered. James Cook noted the strange fact that water temperatures increased with depth in some parts of the region, 

counter to the tendency everywhere else they had made 

measurements. James Clark Ross noticed that his ship was 

consistently set to the east and inferred there was a strong 

west-to-east flow circling Antarctica, a current system we 

now know as the Antarctic Circumpolar Current (ACC). 

Many later Antarctic explorers made measurements in 

the surrounding ocean, and those measurements provide 

a baseline to which comparisons of recent measurements 

are made to detect changes in the Southern Ocean.

The definition of the Southern Ocean is somewhat 

fuzzy and varies from author to author. From an oceanographic perspective, it makes most sense to consider the 

Southern Ocean as encompassing those waters that surround Antarctica and participate in the circumpolar circulation around the continent. These waters have physical, 

chemical, and biological distributions that distinguish 

them from waters at lower latitudes but that vary only 

slowly along the path of the flow around Antarctica. Here 

we define the Southern Ocean to include waters between 

the Antarctic continent and the Subtropical Front, an 

oceanographic feature that marks the transition between 

warm and salty subtropical waters and cooler, fresher waters to the south (Deacon, 1937, 1982). The latitude of the 

Subtropical Front varies with longitude, but generally lies 

between 35°S and 45°S (Orsi et al., 1995). The purpose of 

this paper is to provide an overview of recent progress in 

understanding how the circulation of the Southern Ocean 

influences the Earth system. Further background on the 

history of Southern Ocean exploration and the results of 

earlier work can be found in Deacon (1982) and Nowlin 

and Klinck (1986).

The profound influence of the Southern Ocean on the 

rest of globe can ultimately be traced to the unique continental geometry at high southern latitudes (Rintoul et 

al., 2001). The Drake Passage is the only latitude band 

where ocean waters circle the Earth. The lack of continental boundaries means that a circumpolar flow can 

connect the ocean basins and transfer climate anomalies 

between them (Figure 1). A dynamical consequence of the 

lack of land boundaries is that there can be no net northsouth flow above the height of the shallowest bathymetry 

(north-south flows are possible, but must average to zero); 

this dynamical barrier to north-south exchange of heat 

contributes to the present glacial climate of the Antarctic continent. The ACC is the largest current in the world 

ocean, carrying roughly 135–147 ×106

 m3 s–1 of water 

around Antarctica (Cunningham et al., 2003; Rintoul and 

Sokolov, 2001). The absence of land masses in the latitude 

band of the Drake Passage also means that the dynamics of the ACC differ from those of low-latitude currents, 

with small-scale eddies playing a prominent role.

The strong eastward flow of the ACC is in dynamical 

balance with density layers that shoal steeply to the south. 

Waters found at depths greater than 3,000 m north of the 

current can reach the sea surface near Antarctica. In this 

sense, the Southern Ocean provides a window to the deep 

sea. Where these dense waters outcrop at the sea surface, 

the exchange of heat and moisture between the ocean and 

the atmosphere acts to transform water from one density 

class to another. The net result is an overturning circulation consisting of two cells (Figure 2): deep water that 

upwells near Antarctica is converted to denser Antarctic 

Bottom Water that sinks to great depth and ventilates the 

abyssal ocean; deep water that upwells farther north is 

converted by warming, precipitation, and melt of sea ice 

to less-dense waters that ventilate the intermediate layers 

of the Southern Hemisphere oceans (Speer et al., 2000).

The Southern Ocean overturning circulation has a 

number of significant implications for the Earth system. 

The sinking of water from the surface of the Southern 

Ocean carries oxygen, heat, and carbon dioxide into the 

ocean interior. These water masses then spread throughout much of the ocean. In this way, the Southern Ocean 

renews the oxygen levels in the deep ocean and sets the 

capacity of the Southern Hemisphere oceans to store heat 

and carbon. When we talk about global warming over the 

last 50 years, we really mean ocean warming: more than 

85% of the total increase in heat stored by the Earth system has gone into warming the ocean, with much smaller 

amounts of energy going into warming the atmosphere 

and land surface or into melting of ice (Levitus et al., 

2005). The overturning circulation efficiently transports 

heat from the surface into the ocean interior, and as a result, the warming of the Southern Ocean extends far below 

the sea surface. Integrated around the globe, the Southern 

Ocean stores more of the excess heat trapped by the Earth 

system than any other latitude band. The Southern Ocean 

also absorbs a large amount of the carbon dioxide released 

by human activities, with about 40% of the total ocean inventory of anthropogenic CO2 found south of 30°S (Figure 

3; Sabine et al., 2004). The accumulation of anthropogenic 

CO2 on the northern side of the Southern Ocean reflects 

the efficiency with which the upper cell of the overturning circulation transfers water from the surface, where the 

ocean absorbs CO2 from the atmosphere, to the interior of 
RINTOUL / SOUTHERN OCEAN IN THE EARTH SYSTEM • 177

the ocean. Cooling and sinking of subtropical waters also 

contribute to the high inventory of anthropogenic CO2 in 

this region.

The Southern Ocean overturning also has implications for the biology and chemistry of the global ocean. 

The upwelling of deep water returns nutrients to the surface ocean, where they can be used by phytoplankton. In 

model simulations, if the export of nutrients by the Southern Ocean overturning circulation is set to zero, the primary production in the rest of the ocean is reduced by 

75% (Sarmiento et al., 2004). Deep water is also very rich 

in carbon; when deep water upwells, carbon is lost to the 

atmosphere (Le Quéré et al., 2007). The sinking of intermediate and bottom waters, on the other hand, tends to remove anthropogenic carbon dioxide from the atmosphere 

and sequester it in the ocean. The balance between the 

upwelling and downwelling limbs of the Southern Ocean 

overturning circulation plays a large part in determining 

how much carbon dioxide is absorbed and stored by the 

ocean. Biological production also plays a role in sequestering carbon as organic material sinks from the surface 

ocean and decomposes in the deep sea.

Climate and sea level rise are influenced strongly by 

interactions between the Southern Ocean and the cryosphere. Freezing of the ocean surface in winter forms sea 

ice covering about 16 million km2

, larger than the area of 

the Antarctic continent itself (Figure 4). Changes in sea 

ice extent or volume in the future may result in changes 

in the Earth’s albedo, oceanic water mass formation rates, 

and air-sea exchange of gases such as carbon dioxide and 

affect the habitat of oceanic organisms from microbes to 

whales. Melting of floating glacial ice by ocean waters 

FIGURE 1. A schematic representation of the current systems in the Southern Ocean. 

The Antarctic Circumpolar Current (ACC) flows from west to east around Antarctica in 

two major branches, the Polar Front and Subantarctic Front. Clockwise gyres fill the deep 

basins between the Antarctic continent and the ACC. Adapted from Rintoul et al. (2001).
178 • science diplomacy

at temperatures above the local freezing point influences 

the high-latitude freshwater budget and stratification and 

affects the mass balance of the Antarctic ice sheet and 

the rate at which glacial ice flows into the sea (Rignot et 

al., 2004).

The Southern Ocean therefore has a significant influence on global climate, biogeochemical cycles, biological 

productivity, and the Antarctic ice sheet. By connecting 

the ocean basins, the Southern Ocean allows a global-scale 

overturning circulation to exist. This system of alternating 

flows in the shallow and deep ocean transports heat and 

carbon efficiently around the Earth and establishes mean 

climate patterns. The uptake and storage of heat and carbon by the Southern Ocean act to slow the rate of atmospheric warming caused by increases in greenhouse gases. 

The Southern Ocean also connects the deep and shallow 

layers of the ocean, providing a return path for nutrients 

and maintaining global ocean productivity at levels that 

FIGURE 2. A schematic representation of the Southern Ocean overturning circulation. The figure 

shows the two cells contributing to the overturning: deep water upwelling to the surface of the 

Southern Ocean either moves toward Antarctica and sinks to form dense Antarctic Bottom Water 

or moves north and ultimately sinks to depths of 500–1,500 m on the northern flank of the ACC. 

From Rintoul (2000); used with permission.

FIGURE 3. The inventory of anthropogenic carbon dioxide in the 

ocean. High values (shown in yellow and red) are located in regions 

where water masses sink from the sea surface to the interior of the 

ocean, in the North Atlantic and between 30°S and 50°S in the 

Southern Hemisphere oceans. From Sabine et al. (2004); used with 

permission.
RINTOUL / SOUTHERN OCEAN IN THE EARTH SYSTEM • 179

are much higher than would be the case in the absence of 

this connection.

EVIDENCE FOR A CHANGING 

SOUTHERN OCEAN

Given the global influence of the Southern Ocean, 

any changes in the region would have widespread consequences. In particular, coupling between ocean circulation, 

sea ice, and biogeochemical cycles can result in positive 

feedbacks that drive further climate change. Changes to 

the freshwater balance as a result of changes in sea ice, 

precipitation, or ocean–ice shelf interaction may influence 

the strength of the overturning circulation. Reductions in 

sea ice extent would drive further warming through the 

ice-albedo feedback. Models suggest that the ability of 

the Southern Ocean to absorb carbon dioxide will decline 

with climate change, providing another positive feedback 

(Sarmiento et al., 2004; Le Quéré et al., 2007).

Changes in the physical and biogeochemical state of 

the Southern Ocean are, in fact, already underway (Turner 

et al., 2010). The Southern Ocean is warming (Figure 5) 

more rapidly than the global ocean average (Gille, 2002, 

2008; Böning et al., 2008). The upper layers of the Southern Ocean have freshened as the result of an increase in 

precipitation and possibly melting of ice (Curry et al., 

2003; Jacobs et al., 2002). The dense water that sinks near 

Antarctica to form the deep branch of the overturning circulation, known as Antarctic Bottom Water (AABW), has 

become less salty and less dense in recent decades in the 

Indian and Pacific sectors of the Southern Ocean (Figure 

6) (Jacobs, 2004, 2006; Aoki et al., 2005; Rintoul, 2007). 

The freshening likely reflects an increase in basal melt of 

floating glacial ice, particularly in the southeast Pacific, 

with increased melt caused by warmer ocean temperatures 

(Shepherd et al., 2004; Rignot et al., 2008). Widespread 

warming of AABW has also been observed (e.g., Johnson 

and Doney, 2006).

Since 1992, satellite measurements show an overall 

increase in sea level and strong regional trends linked to 

shifts in fronts of the ACC (Sokolov and Rintoul, 2009). 

The sea surface is higher on the equatorward side of the 

ACC, so a southward shift of the current results in a 

FIGURE 4. (left) Summer (1 March) and (right) winter (1 October) distribution of Antarctic sea ice in 2008. The sea ice extents reaches a maximum value of about 16 million km2 in winter. From AMSR-E (http://www.iup.uni-bremen.de:8084/amsr/amsre.html).
180 • science diplomacy

FIGURE 5. Decadal trends in (top) temperature and (bottom) salinity between 35°S and 60°S, estimated by subtracting recent measurements from ships and Argo floats from a long-term mean climatology (color). Differences are taken on surfaces of constant pressure (similar to depth) and along the 

mean streamlines of the ACC. The black lines on the plot indicate surfaces of constant density anomaly 

(in kg m–3,–1,000). The density surfaces shift south with time, but with little change in slope, indicating the transport of the ACC does not change much with time. From Böning et al. (2008); used with 

permission.

Mean Latitude [°S]

Depth [m]

26.8

27

27

27.2

27.2

27.4

27.4

27.4

27.6

27.6

27.6

27.75

27.75 27

27.8

26.8

27

27

27.2

27.2

27.4

27.4

27.4

27.6

27.6

27.6

27.75

27.75

27.8 a

PF SAF

60 55 50 45 40 35

200

400

600

800

1000

1200

1400

1600

1800

T trend on isobaric sufaces [°C per decade]

−0.2

−0.15

−0.1

−0.05

0

0.05

0.1

0.15

0.2

Mean Latitude [°S]

Depth [m]

26.8

27

27

27.2

27.2

27.4

27.4

27.4

27.6

27.6

27.6

27.75

27.8

b

60 55 50 45 40 35

200

400

600

800

1000

1200

1400

1600

1800

S trend on isobaric sufaces [psu per decade]

−0.02

−0.015

−0.01

−0.005

0

0.005

0.01

0.015

0.02
RINTOUL / SOUTHERN OCEAN IN THE EARTH SYSTEM • 181

regional increase in sea level. Changes in the location of 

ocean currents will also affect the distribution of organisms, and there are some early indications that species are 

also shifting south (Cubillos et al., 2007).

In contrast to the Arctic, where large decreases in sea 

ice extent and thickness have occurred, the overall extent of Antarctic sea ice has slightly increased in recent 

decades (the trend is not statistically significant) (Zwally 

et al., 2002; Parkinson, 2004). However, strong regional 

changes in sea ice extent and the seasonality of advance 

and retreat have been recorded in the Pacific sector (Stammerjohn et al., 2008), with substantial impacts on the marine ecosystem (Wilson et al., 2001).

The most dramatic changes observed in recent decades in Antarctica and the Southern Ocean have occurred along the Antarctic Peninsula. The peninsula has 

warmed more rapidly than anywhere else in the Southern Hemisphere, with the largest warming trend observed 

at Faraday/Vernadsky station (+0.53°C per decade for 

the period 1951–2006; the station is located at 65°15S, 

64°16W). Ocean temperatures have also increased (Meredith and King, 2005), and the extent and duration of the 

winter sea ice cover have declined in the northern peninsula (Stammerjohn et al., 2008). Significant changes have 

also taken place in the marine ecosystem. Phytoplankton 

production has declined in the northern and increased in 

the southern part of the waters west of the Antarctic Peninsula (Montes-Hugo et al., 2009), as the result of changes 

in the sea ice regime. Gentoo penguins are extending their 

range farther south along the peninsula into regions previously dominated by Adelie penguins, and shifts in penguin 

diets have been observed (Ducklow et al., 2007).

Many of these changes observed in Antarctica and the 

Southern Ocean in recent decades are likely caused by the 

changes in winds over this time period (Turner et al., 2010). 

Changes in winds, in turn, drive changes in ocean circulation and temperature patterns and in the distribution 

and seasonality of sea ice (Figure 7). The primary mode of 

variability of the Southern Hemisphere winds is known as 

the Southern Annular Mode (SAM), which refers to a ring 

or vortex of winds that circles Antarctica from west to 

east and reaches from the stratosphere to the sea surface. 

In recent decades, there has been a tendency for this wind 

pattern to strengthen and contract closer to the Antarctic 

continent (Marshall, 2003). The changes observed to date 

in the SAM wind pattern are likely caused by a reduction 

in ozone in the stratosphere (Figure 8; Thompson and Solomon, 2002), but climate models suggest that increases in 

FIGURE 6. Freshening of Antarctic Bottom Water in the Australian Antarctic Basin. (left) Comparison of observations from the early 1970s, 

mid-1990s, and mid-2000s shows a shift toward less-salty and less-dense bottom water formed in the Indian and Pacific oceans at each of the 

sections indicated by red lines on the map. (right) An example of the changes in potential temperature and salinity observed near 115°E is also 

shown. (Potential temperature is the temperature of the water corrected for pressure effects.) The solid black lines indicate surfaces of constant 

density anomaly. From Rintoul (2007); used with permission.
182 • science diplomacy

greenhouse gases will, in the future, drive similar changes 

in Southern Ocean winds (Schindell et al., 1998).

Although the fact that the Southern Ocean absorbs 

large amounts of anthropogenic carbon dioxide is a positive in the sense of slowing the rate of climate change, the 

additional carbon dioxide is also changing the chemistry 

of the ocean in ways that are likely to affect marine life. 

The uptake of CO2 by the ocean is increasing the total 

inorganic carbon concentration, increasing the acidity, 

and reducing the amount of carbonate ion (VazquezRodriguez et al., 2009). Because of the temperature dependence of the saturation state of aragonite (a form of 

calcium carbonate used by many organisms to make shells 

or other hard structures), the saturation threshold will be 

crossed first in the polar regions (Orr et al., 2005; McNeil 

and Matear, 2008). Indeed, there is some evidence that the 

changes are already causing a reduction in calcification of 

the shells of some organisms (Moy et al., 2009). Changes 

FIGURE 7. A representation of the changes in the atmosphere and ocean associated with variations in the Southern 

Annular Mode (SAM), the primary mode of variability of the Southern Hemisphere atmosphere. A strengthening of 

the winds drives stronger upwelling on the southern side of the Southern Ocean and stronger downwelling on the 

northern side. The stronger winds also tend to drive sea ice farther offshore. From Hall and Visbeck (2002); used 

with permission.

−80 −70 −60 −50 −40 −30

latitude

Ocean Atmosphere

Antarctic Ice Sheet

S o u t h A m e r i c a 

NET RADIATION

LOSS TO SPACE 

EASTERLY

ANOMALY

WESTERLY

RISING ANOMALY

MOTION

SUBSIDENCE

LESS CLOUD 

RETURN FLOW 

EKMAN DRIFT 

GREATER

ICE EXTENT 

EKMAN DRIFT 

STRONGER

CIRCUMPOLAR

CURRENT

MASS AND HEAT

CONVERGENCE

SST INCREASE 

MASS AND HEAT

DIVERGENCE

SST DECREASE 
RINTOUL / SOUTHERN OCEAN IN THE EARTH SYSTEM • 183

in the quantity and nutritional quality of primary production will have consequences for secondary production, 

food web carbon and energy flows, and biogeochemical 

cycling, but the impact of changes in ocean chemistry on 

the Southern Ocean food web is largely unknown.

PROJECTIONS OF FUTURE CHANGE

Predicting future change in the Southern Ocean is particularly challenging. Small-scale phenomena like ocean 

eddies, which are unresolved by climate models, play a 

particularly important role in the Southern Ocean. Observations are scarce for testing of ocean models and for 

developing improved parameterisations. Existing models 

often do not perform well in the Southern Ocean. For 

example, an ocean carbon model intercomparison study 

found that the models diverged most dramatically in the 

Southern Ocean, primarily because of differences in how 

the models simulated the stratification and circulation 

(Orr et al., 2005).

Faced with a set of divergent model projections, one 

approach is to form a “weighted average” of a number of 

models, in which higher weight is placed on results from 

models that do a better job of simulating high-latitude climate (Bracegirdle et al., 2008). Using output from a large 

number of climate models used in the Intergovernmental 

Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) assessment reports, the 

weighted-mean model results predict further warming of 

the Southern Ocean over the next century, a 25% reduction in sea ice production, and a continued increase in 

strength of the westerly winds.

A particularly important issue is the response of the 

Southern Ocean overturning circulation to climate change. 

As discussed above, the overturning circulation influences 

strongly the ability of the Southern Ocean to absorb heat 

and carbon dioxide, as well as the supply of nutrients. A 

key question is how the overturning circulation responds 

to a change in winds blowing over the Southern Ocean. 

Coarse-resolution models, like those used to project future 

changes in response to increasing greenhouse gas concentrations, tend to show that stronger winds mean a stronger 

overturning circulation (as well as a stronger ACC) and 

a larger release of carbon dioxide from upwelling deep 

waters. High-resolution models that resolve the effects 

of small-scale eddies tend to show that the overturning 

and ACC transport are less sensitive to wind changes because a change in the eddies acts to compensate the change 

FIGURE 8. (left) Observed trends in surface wind over the Southern Ocean (arrows) and surface air temperature at Antarctic stations (colored 

dots) and (right) the part of the pattern that is congruent with the Southern Annular Mode. The wind data are from the NCAR/NCEP Reanalysis, for the period 1979–2000. From Thompson and Solomon (2002); used with permission.
184 • science diplomacy

in wind forcing. Observations of the response to past 

changes in the winds are so far inconclusive, with atmospheric measurements favoring the former scenario (i.e., 

the Southern Ocean is becoming less effective at soaking 

up CO2; Le Quéré et al., 2007) whereas eddy-resolving 

ocean model simulations and ocean measurements have 

been interpreted as evidence of the latter view (Hallberg 

and Gnanadesikan, 2006; Meredith and Hogg, 2006; 

Böning et al., 2008). Resolution of this issue will be an 

important step toward increasing certainty in projections 

of future climate change.

It is likely that warming and freshening of the surface 

layer will increase the stratification of the upper ocean, 

reducing nutrient inputs to the euphotic zone. Biological 

productivity and ecosystem function are also likely to be 

affected by a reduction in sea ice. Climate models using a 

business-as-usual scenario for CO2

 emissions predict that 

surface waters will become undersaturated with respect to 

aragonite by 2050, extending through the entire Southern Ocean by 2100 (Orr et al., 2005). When seasonal 

variations in carbonate ion concentration are taken into 

account, surface waters become undersaturated for aragonite as early as 2030 (McNeil and Matear, 2008).

A REVOLUTION IN SOUTHERN 

OCEAN OBSERVATIONS

Understanding of the influence of the Southern Ocean 

on the Earth system has increased rapidly in recent years. 

Much of the recent progress has relied on the ongoing 

revolution in ocean observations: tools are now available that enable scientists to really measure the Southern 

Ocean for the first time. Autonomous platforms like Argo 

profiling floats are allowing year-round measurements of 

remote regions like the Southern Ocean (Figure 9). In the 

last six years the Argo program has already provided more 

temperature and salinity profiles than obtained in the entire history of ship-based oceanography in the Southern 

Hemisphere. A variety of satellite sensors are delivering 

year-round, regular, circumpolar measurements of key 

variables, including sea surface temperature, sea ice, wind 

FIGURE 9. Distribution of Argo floats as of February 2010. Each float acquires and transmits a vertical profile of temperature and salinity 

as a function of pressure (equivalent to depth), from 2,000 m to the sea surface, every 10 days. From the JCOMMOPS Web site (http://www

.jcommops.org).
RINTOUL / SOUTHERN OCEAN IN THE EARTH SYSTEM • 185

stress, ocean color (a measure of phytoplankton biomass), 

sea surface height, and the mass balance of the Antarctic 

ice sheet. Deep measurements collected by ships have revealed changes in the ocean inventory of heat, freshwater, 

and carbon. Sensors mounted on elephant seals and icecapable floats have provided the first broad-scale profiles 

of the ocean beneath the sea ice in winter (Klatt et al., 

2007; Charrassin et al., 2008). By providing simultaneous 

observations of seal behaviour and oceanographic conditions, the seal observations have provided new insights 

into the foraging behaviour and population dynamics of 

the seals (Biuw et al., 2007).

Many of these achievements have relied on the international cooperation and coordination established by 

the International Polar Year (IPY) and other programs. 

A legacy of the IPY is the demonstration that a Southern Ocean Observing System (SOOS) is feasible, costeffective, needed, and timely. The SOOS will provide the 

sustained observations needed to detect, interpret, and respond to change in the Southern Ocean. During IPY, the 

community obtained a circumpolar snapshot of the Southern Ocean that has provided new insights into the coupling between physical, chemical, and biological systems 

and their sensitivity to change. This was achieved with a 

level of investment only slightly greater than the “business 

as usual” support of Southern Ocean science. Key to the 

achievements of the IPY was broad international support 

and the focus on multidisciplinary science.

SOUTHERN OCEAN SCIENCE 

INFORMING POLICY

Southern Ocean science contributes to several dimensions of policy. Perhaps the most important contribution is to educate, to inspire, and to raise awareness of 

the deep and intimate connection between Antarctica and 

the Southern Ocean and the rest of the globe. The influence of Antarctica on the Earth system is largely mediated 

through the surrounding oceans. Changes in the Southern Ocean will have significant implications for the Earth 

system, through feedbacks involving the overturning circulation, the carbon cycle, and ocean-ice interactions. Observations of the Southern Ocean help define what climate 

trajectory we are on, are essential for testing models used 

to make climate projections, and may provide an early 

warning of impending shifts in the climate system. Models that incorporate a better representation of Southern 

Ocean processes will deliver more skilful climate projections, providing better information to guide mitigation 

and adaptation strategies. Knowledge of the response of 

the Southern Ocean to change will help manage the risks 

of a changing climate.

Human pressures on the Southern Ocean are increasing and will continue to grow. The growth in Antarctic 

tourism has implications for the safety of both human 

lives and the environment (e.g., Enzenbacher, 1992; Fraser and Patterson, 1997; Frenot et al., 2005). Further exploitation of marine resources is likely as more traditional 

sources of protein decline or increase in cost, either for 

direct human consumption or as feed for aquaculture. 

Geoengineering approaches to enhancing carbon sequestration (e.g., iron fertilisation of the Southern Ocean; see 

Watson et al., 2008, and accompanying articles) are being 

considered. As the use of the Southern Ocean increases, so 

will the demand for knowledge required to manage marine resources and to inform decisions by policy makers, 

industry, and the community. To deliver the understanding 

of the Southern Ocean on which sound policy depends, 

a sustained, multidisciplinary Southern Ocean Observing 

System is essential.

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ABSTRACT. The discovery of an unexpected large depletion of the Antarctic ozone layer 

in the 1980s attracted the attention of scientists, policymakers, and the public. The phenomenon quickly became known as the “ozone hole.” Observations established that the 

ozone losses were driven primarily by human-made compounds, chlorofluorocarbons and 

bromocarbons, whose chemistry is particularly enhanced for ozone loss under the extreme 

cold conditions of the Antarctic. Systematic long-term data of Antarctic total ozone date 

back to the 1950s at several international stations, and these key records owe their existence to the International Geophysical Year in 1957–1958 as well as to the Antarctic 

Treaty System. Although ozone depletion is greatest in the Antarctic, significant depletion 

has also been observed in the Arctic and at midlatitudes in both hemispheres. Ozone depletion enhances the ultraviolet light at the planet surface and thereby can damage ecosystems and some crops as well as increasing the incidence of human eye cataracts and skin 

cancer. These concerns led policymakers to agree to the Montreal Protocol on Substances 

that Deplete the Ozone Layer (Montreal Protocol) in 1987, and progressive advances in 

understanding the Antarctic ozone hole were important for the considerations by policy 

over the next 10 years that ultimately led to controls that have essentially phased out 

the production of chlorofluorocarbons and bromocarbons. Chlorofluorocarbons not only 

deplete ozone, but they are also greenhouse gases that contribute to climate change. It is 

not widely appreciated that the phaseout of the chlorofluorocarbons under the Montreal 

Protocol has probably contributed about five times more to mitigation of climate change 

than has occurred due to the Kyoto Protocol to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (Kyoto Protocol) to date. Thus, the Antarctic ozone hole and the 

subsequent scientific understanding and policy process have played key roles not only for 

ozone protection but also for climate protection.

INTRODUCTION

A distinguishing feature of the twentieth century was the recognition of the 

fact that human activities are changing the Earth’s atmosphere. Carbon dioxide, methane, and chlorofluorocarbon concentrations have increased, causing 

people around the world to come to a new realization: the atmosphere is vast 

but finite. There are now so many people on this planet that some of the gases 

we release are affecting the composition of our atmosphere. The most striking 

illustration of the concurrent development of scientific theory, observation, and 

The Antarctic Ozone Hole: A Unique 

Example of the Science and Policy Interface

Susan Solomon and Marie-Lise Chanin

Susan Solomon, NOAA Earth System Research 

Laboratory, 325 S. Broadway, Boulder, Colorado 80305, USA. Marie-Lise Chanin, Laboratoire Atmosphères (LATMOS), Centre National 

de la Recherche Scientifique, (CNRS), Université 

de Versailles Saint Quentin, F-91370 Verrièresle-Buisson, France. Correspondence: susan

.solomon@noaa.gov; chanin@latmos.ipsl.fr.
190 • science diplomacy

societal implications of atmospheric change has been the 

depletion of the Earth’s protective ozone layer, and this 

remarkable change has been most pronounced in the most 

remote place on the planet: Antarctica.

ANTARCTIC OBSERVATIONS OF OZONE: 

A BELLWETHER FOR THE PLANET

The first identification of a human impact on the 

ozone layer was possible as a result of the commitment to 

long-term monitoring of Antarctica that began in the International Geophysical Year (IGY) in 1957–1958, when 

continuous, year-round observations of ozone were begun 

at multiple sites around the continent. The IGY was a cornerstone in global monitoring of the atmosphere not only 

in Antarctica but worldwide, and the establishment of this 

baseline system of scientific study was among the factors 

that bolstered both the success of the Antarctic Treaty 

dialogue at that time and the attraction of many young 

scientists into their careers. Among the key scientists who 

participated in the revision of the Antarctic Treaty in the 

1980s was Jacques Cousteau, who argued for a treaty 

that would continue to consider Antarctica as a continent 

devoted to science and preservation of nature. These elements combined to produce the scientific capabilities that 

led to many advances, among them the discovery of the 

ozone hole.

In 1985, scientists from the British Antarctic Survey 

reported that the October Antarctic ozone content had 

decreased by almost half compared, e.g., to the measurements taken there in the first two decades after the IGY 

(Farman et al., 1985). This change was far greater than the 

natural variations observed at Halley in monthly averaged 

ozone. Data from three key stations are shown in Figure 

1, illustrating how the international research programs in 

Antarctica undertaken by numerous nations around the 

time of the IGY complemented one another in jointly providing independent evidence of an unprecedented change 

in Antarctic total ozone.

Chlorofluorocarbons and bromocarbons produced 

by man were suspected as a possible cause. Ozone depletion leads to more ultraviolet light falling on the planet 

surface, which can cause damage to the DNA of plants 

and animals. The Antarctic ozone hole therefore raised 

the important question of whether or not similar processes could occur in other locations, particularly middle 

and low latitudes. Among other impacts, damage to certain ecosystems, crops, and human health (including cataracts and some types of skin cancers) are enhanced when 

ozone is reduced, making global ozone losses a matter of 

societal concern (see, e.g., United Nations Environment 

Programme, 1999).

Within a few years, aircraft and ground-based observations were carried out that measured not just Antarctic ozone but also a broad suite of chemicals, both 

manmade and natural, that can affect it (de Zafra et al., 

1987; Solomon et al., 1987; Anderson et al., 1989; Waters et al., 1993). As a result of the work of hundreds of 

researchers, it is now well established that ozone depletion 

is pronounced in Antarctica because it is, indeed, the coldest place on Earth, which gives rise to chemical processes 

profoundly different from those occurring in warmer 

environments.

The extreme coldness of the Antarctic stratosphere allows chemical reactions to occur on and in the surfaces 

of polar stratospheric clouds that rapidly liberate reactive 

chlorine from chemically inert reservoirs, making the chlorine from chlorofluorocarbons much more damaging to 

ozone than it would otherwise be (Solomon et al., 1986). 

The most rapid ozone loss occurs in Antarctica during 

September because both cold temperatures and sunlight 

are involved in the chemistry of Antarctic ozone depletion. 

The depletion occurs over a particular range of altitudes 

from about 12 to 25 km because this is the height range 

where the polar stratospheric clouds occur. The structure 

of this depletion is shown in Figure 2, and it is one of 

the important pieces of evidence showing a “fingerprint” 

of the ozone hole that provides the evidence supporting 

the understanding that the depletion is driven by chlorofluorocarbon chemistry (see the review by Solomon, 1999, 

and references therein).

Ups and downs in the depth and size of the ozone 

hole from one year to another depend mainly on how 

cold or warm it is each year (see, e.g., World Meteorological Organization (WMO), 2007). Loss of ozone affects 

the temperature in the stratosphere too: less ozone leads 

to a colder stratosphere (Ramaswamy et al., 2001, and 

references therein). Strong cooling in Antarctica in turn 

affects the wind pattern in the troposphere and even at 

the ground and is one of the factors that has caused some 

parts of Antarctica to get colder while other parts have 

gotten warmer over about the past three decades (Gillett 

and Thompson, 2003). Thus, ozone depletion also affects 

the pattern of Antarctic surface climate change. Indeed, 

the discovery that Antarctic ozone depletion could couple 

to surface climate via circulation changes is a new process 

in chemistry-climate linkages. In addition, it has long been 

known that stratospheric ozone depletion could introduce 

a cooling effect on global surface climate. However, the 
solomon / ANTARCTIC OZONE HOLE • 191

halocarbons that cause ozone depletion are also potent 

greenhouse gases that contribute importantly to warming 

along with other compounds including carbon dioxide, 

methane, and nitrous oxide; see Figure 4 and the discussion below.

CONTRASTS BETWEEN THE ARCTIC 

AND ANTARCTIC

A logical next question is whether or not ozone depletion is also occurring in the Arctic. The answer is yes, but 

the changes are smaller there, primarily because the Arctic 

stratosphere is warmer than the Antarctic, particularly in 

spring. Most important is that the Arctic stratosphere generally warms up sooner than the Antarctic does. This in 

turn means that the overlap between the cold temperatures 

that cause clouds to form and the sunlight that returns to 

the polar regions in spring is less effective in the north than 

in the south. However, some studies have highlighted an 

important aspect of natural variability: the spring Arctic 

stratosphere can sometimes be very cold. In unusually cold 

years, more Arctic ozone depletion is, indeed, observed. 

Figure 3 shows that the ozone losses in the Arctic were 

most pronounced in the mid- to late 1990s (which were 

colder than average in the Arctic), but these Arctic ozone 

depletions were still considerably smaller than those found 

in the Antarctic. Figure 3 also underscores the fact that 

whereas there are many sites where some Arctic ozone 

data have been taken for shorter periods, there is only one 

station in the High Arctic (Resolute, Canada) where a continuous record extends back to the IGY. In contrast, there 

FIGURE 1. October monthly mean total ozone records (in dobson units) from (top left) Halley, 

(top right) Syowa, and (bottom right) South Pole stations, with the latter being the mean of the 

second half of the month only because of the limited availability of sunlight needed to make measurements there. Data for Syowa are available at the World Ozone and Ultraviolet Data Center 

(WOUDC), and those for the South Pole are available at the NOAA Earth System Research Laboratory, Global Monitoring Division, ftp archive; the Halley data are courtesy of J. D. Shanklin, 

available at the British Antarctic Survey Web site (http://www.antarctica.ac.uk). A satellite ozone 

map for 6 September 2000 is also shown (courtesy of NASA).
192 • science diplomacy

FIGURE 2. (left) Observations of the vertical profile of ozone observed at the South Pole during October in the late 1960s and 

early 1970s, contrasted with those of 1986 and 1997. Total ozone (dobson units) is indicated for each profile. (right) Typical 

polar stratospheric clouds observed at the South Pole are shown. From Solomon (1999).

Figure 3. Observations of daily total column ozone (left) in Antarctica in September and (right) in the Arctic in March. Some records have been offset in time slightly for clarity. From Solomon et al. (2007).
solomon / ANTARCTIC OZONE HOLE • 193

are four sites with such records in the Antarctic, again attesting to the importance of the IGY and to the way in 

which the interface of science and policy in protecting the 

Antarctic also facilitated Antarctic science, especially systematic monitoring. Indeed, as the world looks forward 

to the future of the ozone layer and its interactions with 

climate change, the Antarctic Treaty can serve as model in 

preserving required data records, but no such international 

provisions fully cover the Arctic at present. Further, the 

question of whether the Arctic stratosphere might become 

colder or warmer in the future due to climate changes has 

been raised (see WMO, 2007), introducing the issue of 

whether or not Arctic ozone depletion could worsen in 

coming decades, at least in some years.

GLOBAL OZONE CHANGES AND 

GLOBAL POLICY AGREEMENT: 

THE MONTREAL PROTOCOL

Ozone changes are happening at midlatitudes too. 

Here again, there is evidence that these ozone changes are 

not natural. Observations suggest that human use of chlorofluorocarbons and other ozone depleting substances is 

the fundamental cause of the midlatitude ozone depletions 

and that reactions on surfaces are also significant in enhancing these ozone losses, albeit less so than in the polar 

regions (WMO, 2007).

As a result of concerns about our changing ozone layer, 

a handful of governments agreed the landmark 1987 Montreal Protocol, which started with modest controls on chlorofluorocarbons and bromocarbons but over the next two 

decades was joined by nearly every country in the world 

(the only UN treaty with full participation) and strengthened by amendments and adjustments to phase out dozens of additional ozone-depleting substances worldwide 

(Andersen and Sarma, 2002). The chief U.S. negotiator 

of the Montreal Protocol has written a memoir that discusses the key factors in the negotiation of the agreement 

(Benedick, 1998) and has emphasized a leading role played 

by the United States along with others, including Canada, 

Norway, and Sweden. Benedick (1998) suggests that the 

Montreal Protocol would likely have been agreed in 1987 

even if the Antarctic ozone hole had not been discovered. 

It is, however, useful to note that the original Montreal 

Protocol required only that global chlorofluorocarbon 

production and consumption be reduced by 50% and that 

bromocarbon production and consumption not exceed the 

rates prevailing in the 1980s (i.e., emissions were to remain 

frozen at the rates occurring at that time). If that had been 

the only policy action taken, these gases would have continued to increase in the atmosphere, and massive amounts 

of ozone depletion would eventually have occurred in the 

Arctic; indeed, even the tropical ozone layer would have 

exhibited dramatic depletion at certain altitudes by about 

the 2050s (Newman et al., 2009).

The Montreal Protocol’s precepts included a provision 

calling for review of the science, technology, and economics of the ozone depletion issue and revision over time, 

and it is evident that the subsequent amendments and adjustments to the Montreal Protocol that were agreed, e.g., 

in 1990 and 1992 were influenced by advances in understanding the science, in particular the science of the Antarctic ozone hole (see WMO, 2007; Newman et al., 2009). 

These revisions to the Montreal Protocol took the form of 

successive advancements of phaseout dates of production 

and consumption of ozone-depleting chemicals used in 

various sectors (e.g., solvents, refrigeration, airconditioning, fire extinguishing, etc.) as substitute chemicals and 

processes were found. Global emissions of chlorofluorocarbons today are near zero, and the concentrations of the 

chlorofluorocarbons already in the atmosphere are starting to decrease in response to this unprecedented global 

agreement. But the chlorofluorocarbon that is already in 

our atmosphere is very stable; it is destroyed only by very 

slow processes and lives for 50–100 years. This means that 

although the ozone layer is expected to eventually recover, 

the chlorofluorocarbon that is already present will continue to destroy ozone from one pole to the other well into 

the middle of the twenty-first century (WMO, 2007).

INTERACTIONS BETWEEN THE MONTREAL 

AND KYOTO PROTOCOLS

Observations of chlorofluorocarbons attest to the fact 

that global compliance with the Montreal Protocol has 

been highly successful (WMO, 2007). Although efforts are 

continuing to ensure a full understanding of residual emissions, it is clear that these are extremely small compared to 

the large amounts annually released prior to the protocol.

The chlorofluorocarbons that effectively deplete the 

ozone layer are also potent greenhouse gases and thereby 

contribute to global climate change. Emissions of greenhouse gases are considered under another global protocol, the Kyoto Protocol, but ozone-depleting substances 

are not included in its provisions because they are covered separately under the Montreal Protocol. Recent studies have drawn attention to the fact that the emissions of 

chlorofluorocarbons have made surprisingly important 
194 • science diplomacy

contributions to warming of the Earth’s climate (see Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, 2005; Velders et 

al., 2007). By the late 1980s, just before the Montreal Protocol was signed, the emission of chlorofluorocarbons was 

equivalent to about 7.5 gigatonnes (Gt) of CO2, and the 

emission of CO2 itself from fossil fuel burning was about 

22 Gt in that year, as shown in Figure 4. If there had not 

been a Montreal Protocol, continued growth in chlorofluorocarbons at the rates prevailing in the late 1980s would 

have led to a warming contribution of more than 10 Gt of 

CO2 equivalent emission by 2009 (Figure 4); offsets due 

to cooling from ozone depletion and increased emissions 

of substitute gases (such as hydrochlorofluorocarbons) 

are included in this best estimate and amount to a few 

gigatonnes of CO2 equivalent. But because of the Montreal Protocol, emissions of chlorofluorocarbon in 2009 

were near zero, implying that the Montreal Protocol has 

already averted the emission of about 10 Gt per year of 

CO2 equivalent (see Figure 4 and Velders et al., 2007). In 

contrast, the Kyoto Protocol calls for a global reduction 

of emissions of CO2 and other greenhouse gases of about 

2 Gt per year. Thus, the Montreal Protocol and the underlying science of Antarctic ozone depletion have not only 

protected the ozone layer but also made a contribution 

to protection of the climate that is about five times larger 

than the current provisions of the Kyoto Protocol. In closing, we emphasize that the Antarctic ozone hole serves as 

a remarkable example of the many ways in which the research conducted because of the Antarctic Treaty System 

has had far-reaching effects on science, on the environment, and on the global formulation of policy.

LITERATURE CITED

Andersen, S. O., and K. M. Sarma. 2002. Protecting the Ozone Layer: 

The United Nations History. London: Earthscan.

Anderson, J. G., W. H. Brune, and M. H. Proffitt. 1989. Ozone Destruction by Chlorine Radicals within the Antarctic Vortex: The Spatial 

and Temporal Evolution of ClO-O3 Anticorrelation Based on In Situ 

ER-2 Data. Journal of Geophysical Research, 94:11,465–11,479.

Benedick, R. 1998. Ozone Diplomacy. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

de Zafra, R. L., M. Jaramillo, A. Parrish, P. Solomon, B. Connor, and 

J. Barnett. 1987. High Concentrations of Chlorine Monoxide at 

Low Altitudes in the Antarctic Spring Stratosphere: Diurnal Variation. Nature, 328:408–411.

Farman, J. C., B. G. Gardiner, and J. D. Shanklin. 1985. Large Losses of 

Total Ozone in Antarctica Reveal Seasonal ClOx/NOx Interaction. 

Nature, 315:207–210.

Gillett, N. P., and D. W. J. Thompson. 2003. Simulation of Recent Southern Hemisphere Climate Change. Science, 302:273–275.

Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. 2005. IPCC/TEAP Special 

Report: Safeguarding the Ozone Layer and the Global Climate System: Issues related to Hydrofluorocarbons and Perfluorocarbons.

New York: Cambridge University Press.

Newman, P. A., L. D. Oman, A. R. Douglass, E. L. Fleming, S. M. Frith, 

M. M. Hurwitz, S. R. Kawa, C. H. Jackman, N. A. Krotkov, E. R. 

Nash, J. E. Nielsen, S. Pawson, R. S. Stolarski, and G. J. M. Velders. 

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Chemistry and Physics, 9:2113–2128.

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FIGURE 4. Global warming potential (GWP)–weighted emissions 

for the period 1960–2020. Calculated GWP-weighted emissions 

(100-year time horizon) are shown (see WMO, 2007). All emissions are normalized by their direct GWPs to equivalent Gt CO2

. 

The indirect contribution to the GWP due to ozone depletion, which 

is thought to be ≈20% (see text), is not included in these figures. 

The shaded blue region reflects a range of 2%–3% for assumed 

annual production increases in ozone-depleting substances in the 

absence of the Montreal Protocol after 1987. The CO2

 emissions 

for 1960–2003 are from global fossil fuel and cement production. 

Shown for reference is the magnitude of the reduction target of the 

first commitment period of the Kyoto Protocol, which is based on a 

1990–2010 projection of global greenhouse gas emission increases 

and the average reduction target for participating countries. Adapted 

from Velders et al. (2007), kindly provided by the authors.
solomon / ANTARCTIC OZONE HOLE • 195

Solomon, S., R. R. Garcia, F. S. Rowland, and D. J. Wuebbles. 1986. On 

the Depletion of Antarctic Ozone. Nature, 321:755–758.

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Visible Spectroscopy at McMurdo Station, Antarctica: 2. Observation of OClO. Journal of Geophysical Research, 92:8329–8338.

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Between Arctic and Antarctic Ozone Depletion. Proceedings of the 

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104:445–449.

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of the United States of America, 104:4814–4819.

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D. A. Flower, R. F. Jarnot, and R. S. Harwood. 1993. Stratospheric 

ClO and Ozone from the Microwave Limb Sounder on the Upper 

Atmosphere Research Satellite. Nature, 362:597–602.

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Assessments for Decision Makers Regarding the Protection of the 

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Monitoring Project Report 50. Geneva, Switzerland: WMO.

ABSTRACT. We are in a golden age of observational cosmology, where measurements of 

the universe have progressed from crude estimates to precise knowledge. Many of these 

observations are made from the Antarctic, where conditions are particularly favorable. 

When we use telescopes to look out at the distant universe, we are also looking back in 

time because the speed of light is finite. Looking out 13.7 billion years, the cosmic microwave background (CMB) comes from a time shortly after the big bang. The first attempt 

at CMB observations from the Antarctic plateau was an expedition to the South Pole in 

December 1986 by the Radio Physics Research group at Bell Laboratories. The measured 

sky noise and opacity were highly encouraging. In the austral summer of 1988–1989, three 

CMB groups participated in the “Cucumber” campaign, where a temporary summer-only 

site dedicated to CMB anisotropy measurements was set up 2 km from South Pole Station. Winter observations became possible with the establishment in 1990 of the Center 

for Astrophysical Research in Antarctica (CARA), a U.S. National Science Foundation 

Science and Technology Center, which developed year-round observing facilities in the 

“Dark Sector,” a section of Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station dedicated to astronomical 

observations. Scientists at CARA fielded several astronomical instruments: Antarctic Submillimeter Telescope and Remote Observatory (AST/RO), South Pole Infrared Explorer 

(SPIREX), White Dish, Python, Viper, Arcminute Cosmology Bolometer Array Receiver 

(ACBAR), and Degree-Angular Scale Interferometer (DASI). By 2001, data from CARA, 

together with Balloon Observations of Millimetric Extragalactic Radiation and Geophysics (BOOMERANG), a CMB experiment on a long-duration balloon launched from McMurdo Station on the coast of Antarctica, showed clear evidence that the overall geometry 

of the universe is flat, as opposed to being open or closed. This indicates that the total 

energy content of the universe is near zero, so that the energy needed to originate the material of the universe is balanced by negative gravitational energy. In 2002, the DASI group 

reported the detection of polarization in the CMB. These observations strongly support a 

“concordance model” of cosmology, where the dynamics of a flat universe are dominated 

by forces exerted by the mysterious dark energy and dark matter. The CMB observations 

continue on the Antarctic plateau. The South Pole Telescope (SPT) is a 10-m-diameter 

offset telescope that is beginning to measure anisotropies on scales much smaller than 1°, 

as well as discovering new protogalaxies and clusters of galaxies. Plans are in progress to 

measure CMB polarization in detail, observations that will yield insights to phenomena in 

the first second of time.

Cosmology from Antarctica

Antony A. Stark

Antony A. Stark, Smithsonian Astrophysical 

Observatory, 60 Garden Street, Cambridge, 

Massachusetts 02138, USA. Correspondence: 

aas@cfa.harvard.edu. Portions of this paper are 

excerpted and updated from Wilson and Stark, 

“Cosmology from Antarctica,” in Smithsonian 

at the Poles: Contributions to International 

Polar Year Science, ed. I. Krupnik, M. A. Lang, 

and S. E. Miller, pp. 359–368 (Smithsonian Institution Scholarly Press, 2009).
198 • science diplomacy

INTRODUCTION

Observations of the deep universe have driven the development of Antarctic astronomy. The speed of light is 

finite, so as we look out in distance, we are also looking 

back in time. We see the Sun as it was 8 minutes ago, 

we see the Andromeda galaxy as it was 2.5 million years 

ago, and we see the most distant galaxies as they were billions of years ago. The farthest we can see is 13.7 billion 

light years distant, to a time that was only 350,000 years 

after the big bang, the “surface of last scattering.” Before that time, the universe was opaque because photons 

could travel only a short distance before encountering a 

free electron. But at that time, the universe had just cooled 

enough that electrons could be captured into atoms. Space 

became transparent as a result of the disappearance of free 

electrons. Most of the photons released have travelled unimpeded to the present day; this is the cosmic microwave 

background (CMB) radiation (Penzias and Wilson, 1965). 

At present, the wavelength of the CMB radiation is a factor of 1,000 longer than it was when it was emitted, as a 

result of the universal expansion. Those wavelengths now 

lie in the millimeter-wave band, wavelengths that interact 

with water vapor in the Earth’s atmosphere, subtracting 

signal and adding noise. In order to get the best possible 

view of the early universe, we need to go to into space 

or to sites like the Antarctic plateau that have very little 

water vapor.

This is an account of the history of Antarctic astronomy, the decades-long effort by many people within the 

Antarctic program to study the CMB from the South Pole. 

One result of these observations is the solution to one of 

the great metaphysical problems: the origin of matter. 

Other results include definitive confirmations of big bang 

cosmology and insights into the formation of the first galaxies. Still to come in the decades ahead may be insights to 

major unsolved problems in modern physics.

OBSERVATIONS OF THE COSMIC 

MICROWAVE BACKGROUND

Cosmology has become a precise observational science in past two decades. Cosmologists describe the universe by a model with roughly a dozen parameters, for 

example, the Hubble constant, H0

, and the density parameter, W. These constants describe and determine the 

mathematical model of the universe used in cosmology. 

A decade ago, typical errors on these parameters were 

30% or greater; now, most are known within 10%. We 

can honestly discriminate for and against cosmological 

hypotheses on the basis of quantitative data. The current 

concordance model, Lambda–Cold Dark Matter (Ostriker 

and Steinhardt, 1995), is both highly detailed and consistent with observations. Many of those observations have 

come from the Antarctic.

The CMB radiation is highly isotropic, meaning that 

it is almost the same from all directions on the sky. From 

the first, it was understood that deviations from perfect 

isotropy would advance our understanding of cosmology 

(Peebles and Yu, 1970; Harrison, 1970): small deviations 

from smoothness in the early universe are the seeds from 

which subsequent structure grows, and these small irregularities in the surface of last scattering appear as small differences, or anisotropies, in the brightness of the CMB in 

different directions on the sky. Anisotropies in the CMB 

radiation indicate slight variations in density and temperature that eventually evolve into stars, galaxies, and clusters 

of galaxies. The physical size of the irregularities in the 

surface of last scattering can be calculated from the cosmological models, and these predictions can be compared 

to observations, as we shall see below.

Observations at progressively higher sensitivity by 

many groups of scientists from the 1970s through the 

1990s failed to detect the anisotropy (cf. the review by 

Lasenby et al., 1999). In the course of these experiments, 

better observing techniques were developed, detector sensitivities were improved by orders of magnitude, and the 

effects of atmospheric noise became better understood. 

The techniques and detectors were so improved that 

the sensitivity of experiments came to be dominated by 

atmospheric noise at most observatory sites. Researchers moved their instruments to orbit, to balloons, and to 

high, dry observatory sites in the Andes and Antarctica. 

Eventually, CMB anisotropies were detected by the Cosmic Background Explorer satellite (COBE; Fixsen et al., 

1996). Ground-based experiments at remote sites also met 

with success.

After the detection of CMB anisotropy, the next step 

was to measure its power spectrum. Individual spots on 

the sky that are slightly brighter or slightly dimmer in the 

CMB are not of significance in themselves. What matters are the statistics about the angular size and intensity 

of the anisotropies over large swaths of sky. The power 

spectrum, which is brightness as a function of spatial frequency, captures this information. The power spectrum 

was measured by a series of ground-based and balloonborne experiments, many of them located in the Antarctic. 

The data were then vastly improved upon by the Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe (WMAP; Spergel et al., 
stark / COSMOLOGY FROM ANTARCTICA • 199

2003) and the South Pole Telescope. The Planck satellite 

mission (Tauber, 2005), launched in May 2009, will provide high signal-to-noise data on CMB anisotropy and polarization that will reduce the error on some cosmological 

parameters to the level of 1%.

DEVELOPMENT OF ASTRONOMY 

IN THE ANTARCTIC

The principal source of atmospheric noise in radio observations is water vapor. Because it is exceptionally cold, 

the climate at the South Pole implies exceptionally dry observing conditions. As air becomes colder, the amount of 

water vapor it can hold is dramatically reduced. At 0°C, 

the freezing point of water, air can hold 83 times more 

water vapor than saturated air at the South Pole’s average 

annual temperature of –49°C (Goff and Gratch, 1946). 

Together with the relatively high altitude of the pole (2,850 

m), this means the water vapor content of the atmosphere 

above the South Pole is two or three orders of magnitude 

smaller than it is at most places on the Earth’s surface. 

This has long been known (Smythe and Jackson, 1977), 

but many years of hard work were needed to realize the 

potential in the form of new astronomical knowledge (cf. 

the review by Indermuehle et al., 2006).

A French experiment, Emission Millimetrique (EMILIE; Pajot et al., 1989), made the first astronomical observations of submillimeter waves from the South Pole during 

the austral summer of 1984–1985. It was a ground-based 

single-pixel bolometer dewar operating at 900m and 

fed by a 45 cm off-axis mirror and it had successfully 

measured the diffuse galactic emission while operating on 

Mauna Kea in Hawaii in 1982, but the accuracy of that 

result had been limited by sky noise (Pajot et al., 1986). 

Martin A. Pomerantz, a cosmic ray researcher at Bartol 

Research Institute, encouraged the EMILIE group to relocate their experiment to the South Pole (Lynch, 1998). 

There they found better observing conditions and were 

able to make improved measurements of galactic emission.

Pomerantz also enabled Mark Dragovan, then a researcher at Bell Laboratories, to attempt CMB anisotropy 

measurements from the pole. Dragovan et al. (1990) built a 

lightweight 1.2-m-diameter offset telescope and were able 

to get it working at the pole with a single-pixel helium-4 

bolometer during several weeks in January 1987 (Figure 

1). No CMB anisotropies were seen, but the atmospheric 

calibration results were sufficiently encouraging that several CMB groups (Dragovan et al., 1989; Gaier et al., 

1989; Meinhold et al., 1989; Peterson, 1989) participated 

in the “Cucumber” campaign in the austral summer of 

1988–1989. Three Jamesway tents and a generator were 

set up at a temporary site dedicated to CMB anisotropy 

2 km from South Pole Station in the direction of the international date line. These were summer-only campaigns, 

where instruments were shipped in, assembled, tested, 

used, disassembled, and shipped out in a single threemonth-long summer season. Considerable time and effort were expended in establishing and then demolishing 

observatory facilities, with little return in observing time. 

What little observing time was available occurred during 

the warmest and wettest days of midsummer.

Permanent, year-round facilities were needed. The 

Antarctic Submillimeter Telescope and Remote Observatory (AST/RO; Stark et al., 1997, 2001) was a 

1.7-m-diameter offset Gregorian telescope mounted on a 

dedicated, permanent observatory building. It was the first 

radio telescope to operate year-round at South Pole. The 

AST/RO was started in 1989 as an independent project, 

but in 1991 it became part of a newly founded National 

Science Foundation Science and Technology Center, the 

Center for Astrophysical Research in Antarctica (CARA, 

http://astro.uchicago.edu/cara; cf. Novak and Landsberg, 

1998). The CARA fielded several telescopes: White Dish 

(Tucker et al., 1993), Python (Dragovan et al., 1994; Alvarez, 1995; Ruhl et al., 1995; Platt et al., 1997; Coble et al., 

1999), Viper (Peterson et al., 2000), the Degree-Angular 

Scale Interferometer (DASI; Leitch et al., 2002a), and the 

South Pole Infrared Explorer (SPIREX; Nguyen et al., 

1996), a 60 cm telescope operating primarily in the nearinfrared K band. These facilities were housed in the “Dark 

Sector,” a grouping of buildings that includes the AST/RO 

building, the Martin A. Pomerantz Observatory building 

(MAPO) and a new “Dark Sector Laboratory” (DSL), all 

located 1 km away from the main base across the aircraft 

runway in a radio quiet zone at a longitude of approximately 90°W.

The combination of White Dish, Python, and UCSB 

South Pole 1994 (Ganga et al., 1997) data gave the first 

indication, by 1997, that the spectrum of spatial anisotropy in the CMB was consistent with a flat cosmology. 

Figure 2 shows the state of CMB anisotropy measurements in May 1999. The early South Pole experiments, 

shown in green, clearly delineate a peak in CMB anisotropy at a scale ,=200, or 1°, consistent with a flat universe (W0=1). Shortly thereafter, the Balloon Observation 

of Millimetric Extragalactic Radiation and Geophysics 

(BOOMERANG)-98 long-duration balloon experiment 

(de Bernardis et al., 2000; Masi et al., 2006, 2007; Piacentini et al., 2007) and the first year of DASI (Leitch et 
200 • science diplomacy

al., 2002b) provided significantly higher signal-to-noise 

data, yielding W0=1 with errors less than 5%. This was 

a stunning achievement, definitive observations of a flat 

universe balanced between open and closed Friedmann 

solutions. In its second year, a modified DASI made the 

first measurement of polarization in the CMB (Leitch et 

al., 2002c; Kovac et al., 2002). The observed relationship 

between polarization and anisotropy amplitude provided 

a detailed confirmation of the acoustic oscillation model 

of CMB anisotropy (Hu and White, 1997) and strong support for the standard model. The demonstration that the 

geometry of the universe is flat is a major scientific result 

from the Antarctic.

SITE TESTING

One of the primary tasks for the CARA collaboration was the characterization of the South Pole as an 

observatory site (Lane, 1998). It proved unique among 

observatory sites for unusually low wind speeds, the complete absence of rain, and the consistent clarity of the submillimeter sky. Schwerdtfeger (1984) and Warren (1996) 

have comprehensively reviewed the climate of the Antarctic plateau and the records of the South Pole meteorology 

office. Chamberlin (2001) analyzed weather data to determine the precipitable water vapor (PWV), a measure of 

total water vapor content in a vertical column through the 

atmosphere. He found median wintertime PWV values of 

0.3 mm over a 37-year period, with little annual variation. 

The PWV values at the South Pole are small, stable, and 

well understood.

Submillimeter-wave atmospheric opacity at South 

Pole has been measured using skydip techniques. Chamberlin et al. (1997) made over 1,100 skydip observations 

at 492 GHz (609m) with AST/RO during the 1995 observing season. Even though this frequency is near a strong 

oxygen line, the opacity was below 0.70 half of the time 

FIGURE 1. Mark Dragovan, Robert Pernic, Martin Pomerantz, Robert Pfeiffer, and Tony Stark, with the AT&T Bell Laboratories 1.2 m horn 

antenna at the South Pole in January 1987. This was the first attempt at a CMB measurement from the South Pole.
stark / COSMOLOGY FROM ANTARCTICA • 201

during the austral winter and reached values as low as 

0.34, better than ever measured at any other ground-based 

site. From early 1998, the 350m band has been continuously monitored at Mauna Kea, Chajnantor, and the 

South Pole by identical tipper instruments developed by 

S. Radford of the National Radio Astronomy Observatory 

and J. Peterson of Carnegie-Mellon University and CARA. 

The 350 m opacity at the South Pole is consistently better 

than at Mauna Kea or Chajnantor.

Sky noise is caused by fluctuations in total power or 

phase of a detector caused by variations in atmospheric 

emissivity and path length on timescales of order 1 s. Sky 

noise causes systematic errors in the measurement of astronomical sources. This is especially important at the 

millimeter wavelengths for observations of the CMB: at 

millimeter wavelengths, the opacity of the atmosphere is 

at most a few percent, and the contribution to the receiver 

noise is at most a few tens of degrees, but sky noise may 

still set limits on observational sensitivity. Lay and Halverson (2000) show analytically how sky noise causes observational techniques to fail: fluctuations in a component of 

the data due to sky noise integrate down more slowly than 

t

–1/2 and will come to dominate the error during long observations. Sky noise at the South Pole is considerably smaller 

than at other sites, even comparing conditions of the same 

opacity. The PWV at the South Pole is often so low that the 

opacity is dominated by the dry air component (Chamberlin and Bally, 1995; Chamberlin, 2001); the dry air emissivity and phase error do not vary as strongly or rapidly as 

the emissivity and phase error due to water vapor. Lay and 

Halverson (2000) compared the Python experiment at the 

South Pole (Dragovan et al., 1994; Alvarez, 1995; Ruhl et 

al., 1995; Platt et al., 1997; Coble et al., 1999) with the 

Site Testing Interferometer at Chajnantor (Holdaway et al., 

1995; Radford et al., 1996) and found that the amplitude 

of the sky noise at the South Pole is 10 to 50 times less than 

that at Chajnantor (Bussmann et al., 2004).

The best observing conditions occur only at high elevation angles, and at the South Pole this means that only 

the southernmost third of the celestial sphere is accessible 

with the South Pole’s uniquely low sky noise, but this portion of sky includes millions of galaxies and cosmological 

sources, the Magellanic Clouds, and most of the fourth 

quadrant of the galaxy. The strength of the South Pole as a 

millimeter and submillimeter site lies in the low sky noise 

levels routinely obtainable for sources around the south 

celestial pole.

LOGISTICS

South Pole Station provides logistical support for 

astronomical experiments: room and board for on-site 

scientific staff, electrical power, network and telephone 

connections, heavy equipment support, and cargo and 

personnel transport. The station power plant provides 

about 200 kW of power to astronomical projects out of a 

total generating capacity of about 1200 kW. Heavy equipment at South Pole Station includes cranes, forklifts, and 

bulldozers; these can be requisitioned for scientific use as 

needed. The station is supplied by over 200 flights each 

year of LC-130 ski-equipped cargo aircraft. Annual cargo 

capacity is about 3,500 tons. Aircraft flights are scheduled 

only during the period from late October to early February, so the station is inaccessible nine months of the year. 

All engineering operations for equipment installation and 

FIGURE 2. Microwave background anisotropy measurements as of 

May 1999. This was prior to the launch of BOOMERANG, the 

deployment of DASI, and the launch of WMAP, all of which significantly improved the data. South Pole experimental results are shown 

in green. Note that the peak at ,=200 is clearly defined, indicating 

a flat universe (W0=1). Abbreviations are as follows: UCSB SP 94 

= a campaign at the South Pole in 1994 by the University of California, Santa Barbara, sponsored by NSF; BAM = Balloon-borne 

Anisotropy Measurement; COBE = Cosmic Background Explorer; 

MSAM = Medium-Scale Anisotropy Measurement experiment; 

MAX = Millimeter Anisotropy Experiment; CAT = Cosmic Anisotropy Telescope; OVRO = Owens Valley Radio Observatory; 

WD = White Dish; ACTA = Australia Telescope Compact Array; 

VLA = Very Large Array.

20

0

40

60

80

100

 May 1999

Planck

SP 10m

COBE

Tenerife

UCSB SP 94

BAM

Saskatoon

Python SP 91-95

CAT

OVRO

WD, ACTA, VLA

MAX

MSAM

Python V SP 96

Viper SP 98

?
202 • science diplomacy

maintenance are tied to the annual cycle of physical access to the instruments. For quick repairs and upgrades 

during the austral summer season, it is possible to send 

equipment between the South Pole and anywhere serviced 

by commercial express delivery in about five days. During 

the winter, however, no transport is possible, and projects 

must be designed and managed accordingly.

In summer, there are about 20 astronomers at the pole 

at any given time. Each person stays at the pole for a few 

weeks or months in order to carry out their planned tasks 

as well as circumstances allow; then they depart, to be replaced by another astronomer. Each year there are four 

or five winter-over astronomers who remain at the South 

Pole for a year.

Experiments at the pole use about 20 L of liquid helium per day. Helium also escapes from the station in one 

or two weather balloons launched each day. The National 

Science Foundation and its support contractors must supply helium to the South Pole, and the most efficient way to 

transport and supply helium is in liquid form. Before the 

winter-over period, one or more (4,000–12,000 L) storage 

dewars are brought to the South Pole for winter use. The 

supply of liquid helium has been a chronic problem for 

South Pole astronomy, but improved facilities in the new 

South Pole Station eliminate single points of failure and 

provide a more-certain supply.

Internet and telephone service to the South Pole is 

provided by a combination of two low-bandwidth satellites, LES-9 and GOES-3, and the high-bandwidth (3 

Mbps) NASA Tracking and Data Relay Satellite System 

TDRS-F1. These satellites are geosynchronous but not 

geostationary since their orbits are inclined. Geostationary satellites are always below the horizon and cannot 

be used. Internet service is intermittent through each 

24-hour period because each satellite is visible only during the southernmost part of its orbit; the combination 

of the three satellites provides an Internet connection for 

approximately 12 hours within the period 1 to16 hours 

Greenwich local sidereal time. The TDRS link helps provide a store-and-forward automatic transfer service for 

large computer files. The total data communications capability is about 100 gigabytes per day.

TELESCOPES AND INSTRUMENTS 

AT THE SOUTH POLE

The Antarctic Submillimeter Telescope and Remote 

Observatory (AST/RO) was the first radio telescope to 

be operated year-round on the Antarctic plateau. It was 

designed as a demonstration of feasibility and a prototype for the telescopes to follow. It was a general-purpose 

1.7-m-diameter Gregorian (Stark et al., 1997, 2001) for 

astronomy and aeronomy studies at wavelengths between 

200 and 2000 m. The AST/RO was located in the Dark 

Sector in a dedicated building and was operational from 

1995 through 2005. It was used primarily for spectroscopic studies of neutral atomic carbon and carbon monoxide in the interstellar medium of the Milky Way and 

the Magellanic Clouds. Six heterodyne receivers and a 

bolometer array were used on AST/RO: (1) a 230 GHz 

receiver (Kooi et al., 1992), (2) a 450–495 GHz quasioptical receiver (Zmuidzinas and LeDuc, 1992; Engargiola et al., 1994), (3) a 450–495 GHz waveguide receiver 

(Walker et al., 1992; Kooi et al., 1995), which could be 

used simultaneously with (4) a 800–820 GHz fixed-tuned 

superconductor-insulator-superconductor (SIS) waveguide 

mixer receiver (Honingh et al., 1997), (5) the PoleSTAR 

array, which deployed four 810 GHz fixed-tuned SIS 

waveguide mixer receivers (Groppi et al., 2000; Walker 

et al., 2001), (6) Terahertz Receiver with NbN HEB Device (TREND), a 1.5 THz heterodyne receiver (Gerecht 

et al., 1999; Yngvesson et al., 2001), and (7) the South 

Pole Imaging Fabry-Perot Interferometer (SPIFI; Swain et 

al., 1998). There were four acousto-optical spectrometers 

(AOS; Schieder et al., 1989): two low-resolution spectrometers with a bandwidth of 1 GHz, an array AOS having 

four low-resolution spectrometer channels with a bandwidth of 1 GHz for the PoleSTAR array, and one highresolution AOS with 60 MHz bandwidth. The AST/RO 

produced data for over a hundred scientific papers relating 

to star formation and the dynamics of cold interstellar gas 

in the Milky Way and the Magellanic Clouds. Among the 

more significant are a submillimeter-wave spectral line survey of the galactic center region (Martin et al., 2004) that 

showed the episodic nature of starburst and black hole activity in the center of our galaxy (Stark et al., 2004).

Viper was a 2.1 m off-axis telescope designed to allow 

measurements of low-contrast millimeter-wave sources. 

It was mounted on a tower at the opposite end of the 

MAPO from DASI. Viper was used with a variety of instruments: Dos Equis, a CMB polarization receiver operating at 7 mm; Submillimeter Polarimeter for Antarctic 

Remote Observing (SPARO), a bolometric array polarimeter operating at 450 m; and the Arcminute Cosmology 

Bolometer Array Receiver (ACBAR), a multiwavelength 

bolometer array used to map the CMB. The ACBAR is a 

16-element bolometer array operating at 300 mK. It was 

designed specifically for observations of CMB anisotropy 

and the Sunyaev-Zel’dovich effect (SZE). It was installed 
stark / COSMOLOGY FROM ANTARCTICA • 203

on the Viper telescope early in 2001, and was successfully 

operated until 2005. The ACBAR has made high-quality 

maps of SZE in several nearby clusters of galaxies and has 

made significant measurements of anisotropy on the scale 

of degrees to arcminutes (Runyan et al., 2003; Reichardt 

et al., 2009).

The SPARO was a nine-pixel polarimetric imager operating at 450m. It was operational on the Viper telescope during the early austral winter of 2000. Novak et 

al. (2000) mapped the polarization of a region of the sky 

(~0.25 square degrees) centered approximately on the galactic center. Their results imply that within the galactic 

center molecular gas complex, the toroidal component 

of the magnetic field is dominant. The data show that 

all of the existing observations of large-scale magnetic 

fields in the galactic center are basically consistent with 

the “magnetic outflow” model of Uchida et al. (1985). 

This magnetodynamic model was developed in order to 

explain the galactic center radio lobe, a limb-brightened 

radio structure that extends up to 1° above the plane and 

may represent a gas outflow from the galactic center.

The DASI (Leitch et al., 2002a) was a compact 

centimeter-wave interferometer designed to image the 

CMB primary anisotropy and measure its angular power 

spectrum and polarization at angular scales ranging from 

2° to several arcminutes. As an interferometer, DASI measured CMB power by simultaneous differencing on several scales, measuring the CMB power spectrum directly. 

The DASI was installed on a tower adjacent to the MAPO 

during the 1999–2000 austral summer and had four successful winter seasons. In its first season, DASI made measurements of CMB anisotropy that confirmed with high 

accuracy the “concordance” cosmological model, which 

has a flat geometry and significant contributions to the 

total stress energy from dark matter and dark energy (Halverson et al., 2002; Pryke et al., 2002). In its second year, 

DASI made the first measurements of “E-mode” polarization of the CMB (Leitch et al., 2002c; Kovac et al., 2002).

Q and U Extra-Galactic Sub-mm Telescope (QUEST) 

at DASI (QUaD; Church et al. 2003) is a CMB polarization experiment that placed a highly symmetric antenna 

feeding a bolometer array on the former DASI mount at 

MAPO, becoming operational in 2005. It is capable of 

measuring amplitude and polarization of the CMB on angular scales as small as 0.07°. The QUaD has sufficient 

sensitivity to detect the conversion of E-mode CMB polarization to B-mode polarization caused by gravitational 

lensing in concentrations of dark matter.

BICEP2/SPUD (Keating et al., 2003; Yoon et al., 2006; 

Nguyen et al., 2008) is a millimeter-wave receiver designed 

to measure polarization and amplitude of the CMB over 

a 20° field of view with 1° resolution. It is mounted on 

the roof of the Dark Sector Laboratory and has been operational since early 2006. The design of BICEP2 is optimized to eliminate systematic background effects and 

thereby achieve sufficient polarization sensitivity to detect 

the component of CMB polarization caused by primordial 

gravitational waves. These measurements test the hypothesis of inflation during the first fraction of a second after 

the big bang.

The South Pole Telescope (SPT) is a 10-m-diameter 

off-axis telescope that was installed during the 2006–2007 

season (Ruhl et al., 2004; Carlstrom et al., in press). It 

is equipped with a large field of view (Stark, 2000) that 

feeds a state-of-the-art 960-element bolometer array receiver. The initial science goal is a large SZE survey covering 4,000 square degrees at 1.3¢ resolution with 10 K 

sensitivity at a wavelength of 2 mm. This survey will find 

all clusters of galaxies more massive than 3.5 × 1014 M9 regardless of redshift. It is expected that an unbiased sample 

of approximately 3,000 clusters will be found, with over 

700 at redshifts greater than 1. The sample will provide 

sufficient statistics to use the density of clusters to determine the equation of state of the dark energy component 

of the universe as a function of time. The SPT has made a 

first detection of galaxy clusters using the SZE (Staniszewski et al., 2009) and a first measurement of arcminutescale CMB anisotropy (Lueker et al., 2010). The SPT has 

also discovered new class of galaxies that are unusually 

bright at millimeter wavelengths (Vieira et al., 2010).

THE ORIGIN OF MATTER 

IN A FLAT UNIVERSE

The discovery by Antarctic telescopes that the universe has a flat geometry was the final step in solving one 

of the great problems in metaphysics: the origin of matter. 

The Friedmann metric is the solution to the Einstein field 

equations that describes the big bang. The Einstein equations describe gravity as a non-Euclidean geometry, where 

space is a manifold with an intrinsic curvature, so that 

the sum of the angles of a triangle between three points in 

space-time do not necessarily add up to 180°. The force of 

gravity on a freely falling body is manifested in a trajectory that follows a geodesic curve in a curved space. In the 

Friedmann solution, all of space is uniformly filled with 

material, whose density changes as the universe expands 

and evolves. (The Friedmann metric is fundamentally different from the Schwarzschild metric that describes black 
204 • science diplomacy

holes: the Schwarzschild metric describes a static space 

that is a vacuum everywhere except at a single singular 

point where all the mass is concentrated.) Three different spatial geometries are possible in Friedmann models: 

closed, flat, and open.

The closed geometry is, at any given instant in time, 

a three-dimensional hypersphere. That means that if you 

instantly draw a straight line in any direction, it will circle 

around the hypersphere and come back at you from the 

opposite direction. The sum of the angles of a triangle are 

more than 180° (bigger triangles more than little ones), 

and the circumference of a circle is less than 2 times the 

radius (bigger circles to a greater extent than little ones). 

The volume of the hypersphere is finite at all times, and 

so the universe is finite at all times. A Friedmann model 

that is finite in space must also be finite in time: the hypersphere starts small, expands to a finite maximum extent, 

and then shrinks back to zero size after a finite lifetime.

The open geometry is, at any given instant, an infinite 

three-dimensional hyperboloid. That means that given a line 

and a plane in that space, there exists more than one other 

plane (in fact, an infinite number) that pass through that 

point but nowhere intersect the first plane. The sum of the 

angles of a triangle is less than 180°, and the circumference 

of a circle is more than 2 times the radius. The volume of 

the hyperboloid is infinite at all times, and so the universe is 

infinite at all times, except at the singular instant of the big 

bang. A Friedmann model that is infinite in space must also 

be future-eternal: the hyperboloid expands forever.

The flat geometry is, at any given instant, an infinite 

three-dimensional Euclidean space that follows Euclidean 

rules for geometric entities. With time, however, the entire 

space expands or contracts homogeneously, perhaps at a 

variable rate. It is an intermediate case between closed and 

open and can be thought of as a closed geometry with an 

extremely large radius of curvature or an open geometry 

with an extremely flat hyperboloid. The flat Friedmann 

model just barely expands forever, which means that it 

recollapses only after an infinite time has gone by.

The difference in the geometry of triangles in the three 

cases provides an observational test that is sensitive to the 

geometry. The physical size of the anisotropies on the surface of last scattering can be calculated. The angular size 

that they appear to us depends on the geometry since the 

angles of the 13.7 billion light-year-long triangle between 

us and the two sides of a feature are distorted by the geometry. Figure 3 shows actual BOOMERANG data, in 

comparison to computer simulations of the appearance of 

CMB anisotropies in the three cases. The geometry of our 

universe is very nearly flat.

This result is highly significant because the energy 

content of the universe is different in the different geometries. As Einstein showed, energy and matter can be converted, one into the other. All the material of the universe 

has positive energy. The gravitational field, however, has 

negative energy. Consider, for example, a weight attached 

to a rope that has been hauled up to the ceiling. The 

weight plus the Earth has a particular gravitational field 

strength. If we lower the weight to the floor, we find that 

the gravitational field has increased. But in the process of 

lowering the weight, we can extract energy, for example, 

by attaching the rope to run a pulley on an electrical generator. By increasing the gravitational field, we can extract 

energy: the gravitational field must therefore have negative 

energy. Landau and Lifshitz (1962) show that in the closed 

and flat cases, the gravitational energy of the universe as 

FIGURE 3. Data from the BOOMERANG experiment, showing a 

picture of CMB anisotropies in an actual map of the sky in the top 

panel. The middle three panels show computer simulations of the 

expected anisotropies in three cases: (left) a closed universe, (middle) 

a flat universe, and (right) an open universe. The drawings at the 

bottom illustrate how features on the surface of last scattering would 

appear to have different angular sizes, depending on the effect of geometry on the photon paths. The flat model clearly fits the data best.
stark / COSMOLOGY FROM ANTARCTICA • 205

a whole exactly balances the positive energy of all the material, so that the total energy content of the universe is 

zero. This is not true in the open universe case, where the 

positive energy of the matter exceeds the negative energy 

of the gravitational field. At the start of our universe, no 

material and no energy were needed; matter is created by 

the separation of positive and negative energies.

CONCLUSIONS

Even in the era of CMB satellites, ground-based CMB 

observations are still essential for reasons of fundamental 

physics. The CMB radiation occurs only at wavelengths 

longer than 1 mm. The resolution of a telescope (in radians) 

is equal to the observed wavelength divided by the telescope 

diameter. To work properly, the overall accuracy of the telescope optics must be a small fraction of a wavelength. Observing the CMB at resolutions of a minute of arc or smaller 

therefore requires a telescope like the SPT that is 10 m in 

diameter or even larger, with an overall accuracy of 0.1 mm 

or better. There are no prospects for an orbital or airborne 

telescope of this size and accuracy in the foreseeable future. 

There is, however, important science to be done at high resolution, work that can only be done with a large groundbased telescope at the best possible ground-based sites.

Observations from the Antarctic have brought remarkable advances in cosmology. Antarctic observations 

have definitively demonstrated that the geometry of the 

universe is flat. These observations were made possible 

by excellent logistical support offered for the pursuit of 

science at the Antarctic bases. Cold climate and lack of 

water vapor provide atmospheric conditions that for some 

purposes is nearly as good as space, but at greatly reduced 

cost. Antarctica provides a platform for innovative, small 

instruments operated by small groups of scientists as well 

as telescopes that are too large to be lifted into orbit. In 

future, Antarctica will continue to be an important site for 

observational cosmology.

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ABSTRACT. In this paper we discuss the evolution of Antarctic environmental management, seen from our perspective as the first three chairs of the Committee for Environmental Protection (CEP). This body was established under the Protocol on Environmental 

Protection to the Antarctic Treaty adopted by the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties 

(ATCPs) in 1991. The ATCPs have over time placed considerable emphasis on managing the Antarctic environment. The protocol followed years of developing environmental 

standards and practices and set out tough new rules on environmental protection. The concomitant establishment of the CEP demonstrated the high ambitions of the parties for protecting the Antarctic environment. Following the entry in to force of the protocol in 1998, 

the CEP needed to put in place procedures and practices to enable it to fulfil its mandate 

effectively and efficiently. In the 12 years that have passed since then, the context in which 

the CEP is undertaking its work has changed. The Antarctic environment has been subject 

to various pressures, including climate change, which has resulted in regional rises in temperature and loss of ice shelves; introduction of nonnative species; and rapidly increasing 

numbers of tourists. National program activities have also increased markedly. Air access 

to Antarctica has become more prevalent with many new ice runways giving access to parts 

of Antarctica that had previously been logistically difficult to access. The role that the CEP 

plays and its capacity to deal with such challenges now merits close attention. If the CEP 

is to continue to meet its mandate of providing timely and defensible advice to the Treaty 

Parties on environmental protection in the Antarctic Treaty area, it needs to address two 

key issues: managing a burgeoning workload and timely access to data and information.

CONSIDERATION OF ENVIRONMENTAL ISSUES PRIOR 

TO THE ENVIRONMENTAL PROTOCOL

The Washington discussions, culminating in the signing of the Antarctic 

Treaty in 1959, did not spend much time on environmental issues.1 This lack 

of consideration was inevitable as the negotiators had their focus firmly on the 

difficult political issues of the time, there was little environmental awareness 

in the general public, and there were no environmental lobby groups as we 

see them today. The Antarctic environment is only obliquely referred to in the 

text of the Antarctic Treaty (but disposal of radioactive wastes is prohibited). 

The most important environmental reference is in Article IX, paragraph 1(f), 

Managing the Antarctic Environment: 

The Evolving Role of the Committee 

for Environmental Protection

Olav Orheim, Anthony Press, and Neil Gilbert

Olav Orheim, Research Council of Norway, 

P.O. Box 2700, St. Hanshaugen, N-0131 

Oslo, Norway. Anthony Press, Antarctic Climate and Ecosystems Cooperative Research 

Centre, University of Tasmania, Private Bag 

80, Hobart, Tasmania 7001, Australia. Neil 

Gilbert, Antarctica New Zealand, Private Bag 

4745, Christchurch, New Zealand. Correspondence: oo@rcn.no
210 • science diplomacy

which states that the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings (ATCM) can consider “preservation and conservation 

of living resources.”2

Gradually the Treaty Parties’ attention to the Antarctic environment would change. Landmark work was 

done in 1964 when, within just three years of the Antarctic Treaty entering in to force, the ATCM adopted the 

Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna 

and Flora (Agreed Measures).3

The Agreed Measures consisted of 14 articles that 

recognised the scientific importance and unique nature of 

the region’s fauna and flora and noted the parties’ desire 

to achieve protection, facilitate scientific study, and (notably) ensure rational use of Antarctic fauna and flora. The 

Agreed Measures established the need for permits to be 

issued for any killing, wounding, capturing, or molesting 

of any native mammals or birds (including for scientific 

purposes), as well as for the designation of “specially protected species.”4

 They also provided for the establishment 

of “specially protected areas” for places of outstanding 

scientific interest, as well as controls on the importation of 

nonnative species in to Antarctica.5

The Agreed Measures provided the foundation for 

managing the Antarctic environment for almost 30 years. 

Under the provisions of the Agreed Measures numerous 

specially protected areas were established in Antarctica. It 

was not until 1991 that the Agreed Measures were superseded by the more comprehensive Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty.6

Once the Agreed Measures were in place, the delegates 

from the 12 original signatory nations seem to have felt 

that this part of the management of Antarctica now was 

adequately covered. Until the negotiations started in 1978 

on the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR) there were no major new 

environmental initiatives from the ATCM.7 Admittedly, the 

Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals was 

signed in 1972, but at that time there was no sealing industry in the Antarctic (indeed, there has never been commercial sealing since the adoption of that convention).8

It was, however, a major new development when 

CCAMLR entered into force in 1980. This convention, 

which has at its core “the Conservation of Antarctic marine living resources . . . [where] the term ‘conservation’ 

includes rational use” was groundbreaking in that it took 

an ecosystem approach to managing fisheries.9 This was 

far ahead of such conventions elsewhere in the world. It is 

a great credit to those involved in the negotiations that the 

convention was agreed: the commercial krill fishery was 

well established at the time by vessels from Eastern Europe.

At the same time that CCAMLR was established, interest was growing around how to regulate any future exploitation of Antarctic mineral resources. Mineral resources 

had been considered during the negotiation of the Antarctic 

Treaty but were not specifically addressed in 1959 for practical and political reasons. The subject of mining was on the 

agenda for the ATCM in 1972, and thereafter several expert 

meetings were held. The Scientific Committee for Antarctic Research (SCAR) established its Environmental Impact 

Assessment of Mineral Resource Exploration and Exploitation in Antarctica (EAMREA) group to provide advice to 

the ATCM on environmental, scientific, and technical issues 

related to mineral activities in Antarctica.10 The EAMREA 

would evolve in 1981 to become the group of specialists on 

Antarctic Environmental Implications of Possible Mineral 

Exploration and Exploitation (AEIMEE).11

Right from the early stages of these discussions, environmental considerations were explicitly enunciated, 

and the ATCM in 1972 agreed to Recommendation VII-6, 

which paired “protection of the environment” with the 

“wise use of resources.”12 Even though there was general 

agreement that no commercial mining activity would take 

place in Antarctica in the foreseeable future, the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties formally agreed in 1981 to 

negotiate a convention to regulate mining activities. Indeed, the motivation for starting this difficult process was 

to solve a potential future problem before it materialised 

as a concrete political issue.

The Fourth Special Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Meeting to discuss what would eventually become the 

Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities (CRAMRA) met for the first time in Wellington in 1982 and concluded its work in 1988, after 12 

formal meetings. During the 1980s the number of Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties grew significantly. It 

is arguable that the main driver for this growth was the 

perception from those not active in Antarctica that there 

were riches in the Antarctic that a few select nations (the 

original 12 Antarctic Treaty Parties) were preparing to 

distribute among themselves. In the United Nations “The 

Question of Antarctica” was placed on the agenda and 

remained a periodic agenda item in the UN until the mid2000s. Other nations became active in the Antarctic, carrying out scientific research programs and achieving the 

status of Consultative Parties (Figure 1).

The discussions of mining in the Antarctic also provoked the interest of environmental nongovernmental 

organizations (NGOs), which began to place Antarctica 

higher on their agendas. An umbrella organization of 

many NGOs, the Antarctic and Southern Ocean Coalition 
ORHEIM / MANAGING THE ANTARCTIC ENVIRONMENT • 211

(ASOC), was formed in 1978. As an observer to Antarctic 

Treaty Consultative Meetings, ASOC became increasingly 

active as the CRAMRA negotiations proceeded. The discussions provoked considerable passion, and on occasion, 

delegates to the ATCM had to pass lines of protesters on 

their way to meetings, a sight not seen before or after the 

CRAMRA negotiations.

The final negotiated text on CRAMRA was necessarily a compromise, and it raised difficulties for some Antarctic Treaty Parties.13 One major challenge was how to 

balance the political interests of claimants and nonclaimants. Another, which became the most strongly voiced 

criticism in the end, was that the convention would open 

Antarctica up for mineral activities which, in turn, would 

harm the environment.

In 1989 Australia and France announced that they 

would not sign CRAMRA, an announcement that would 

herald the most critical period in the history of the Antarctic Treaty. In 1977 the Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Parties had agreed to a voluntary moratorium on mineral 

activity, as long as progress was being made on an agreement to regulate such activities. The announcement by 

Australia and France had now disrupted this process, and 

the voluntary moratorium on mineral activities no longer 

applied. In theory, any party could now start such activities, a situation that would likely lead to conflict among 

the ATCPs. There was also a great deal of concern that the 

treaty itself could collapse.

There was much uncertainty about how nations 

would proceed in relation to Article XII, paragraph 2, of 

the Antarctic Treaty, which provided that 30 years after its 

entry into force (that is, in 1991), a party could ask for a 

meeting to review the operation of the treaty and thereby 

provide the opportunity for withdrawal from the treaty. 

How the parties would view the options provided by Article XII was not clear in 1989, and in the UN, there was 

much pressure on the Antarctic Treaty Parties from those 

countries not within the “Antarctic club.”

FIGURE 1. The number of Treaty Parties over time, divided into original signatory nations, consultative nations, 

and acceding (nonconsultative) nations. Note the growth in membership of the Antarctic Treaty during the 1980s.

0

5

10

15

20

25

30

35

40

45

50

19591961196319651967196919711973197519771979198119831985198719891991199319951997199920012003200520072009

Original signatory (consultave naons) Consultave naons Acceding naons
212 • science diplomacy

ESTABLISHMENT OF THE PROTOCOL ON 

ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION TO THE 

ANTARCTIC TREATY AND THE COMMITTEE 

FOR ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION

With all of these issues in the background, the 15th 

ATCM in Paris in 1989 was a difficult meeting. Nonetheless, it started a process that led to the successful adoption in Madrid only two years later of the Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Madrid 

Protocol). The Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties were 

conscious of the need to quickly find a way back to consensus, and it became clear that the only way to achieve 

this was by agreeing to legally binding rules for preserving 

the Antarctic environment and a ban on mineral activities.14 It is probable that the political pressures that had 

developed sped up the process of negotiating the Madrid 

Protocol.

The protocol itself is quite simple in its form. It set 

down a number of environmental principles governing all 

activity in the Antarctic, and it established a new institutional body, the Committee for Environmental Protection 

(CEP). The protocol built on the 1964 Agreed Measures, 

and it picked up environmental management concepts that 

had been developed during the CRAMRA negotiations, 

such as the requirement for environmental impact assessments of proposed activities.

The protocol designates Antarctica as a natural reserve, devoted to peace and science, and sets forth legally 

binding environmental protection principles applicable to 

human activities in Antarctica, including obligations to accord priority to scientific research. The protocol prohibits 

all activities relating to Antarctic mineral resources, except 

for scientific research, and provides that this prohibition 

cannot be amended by less than unanimous agreement for 

at least 50 years following the entry into force of the protocol. The protocol requires parties to protect Antarctic 

fauna and flora and imposes strict limitation on disposal 

of waste in Antarctica and discharge of pollutants into 

Antarctic waters. It also requires application of environmental impact assessment procedures to activities undertaken in Antarctica, including nongovernmental activities, 

for which advance notice is required under the Antarctic 

Treaty. Parties are further required to provide for response 

to environmental emergencies, including the development 

of joint contingency plans.

Detailed mandatory rules for environmental protection pursuant to these requirements are incorporated in a 

system of annexes, forming an integral part of the protocol. Specific annexes on environmental impact assessment, 

conservation of Antarctic fauna and flora, waste disposal 

and waste management, and the prevention of marine 

pollution were adopted with the protocol. A fifth annex 

on area protection and management was adopted later in 

1991 by the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties at the 

16th Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting. Provision is 

also made for additional annexes to be incorporated following entry into force of the protocol. Accordingly the 

parties added in 2005 a sixth annex, “Liability for Environmental Damage.”

Tensions within the Antarctic Treaty System eased in 

1991 when the negotiations of the Madrid Protocol were 

concluded. In the ensuing years, however, there was an increasing sense of impatience among many parties with the 

drawn out process of ratification. In the three Antarctic 

Treaty Consultative Meetings from 1995 to 1997, prior to 

the entry into force of the protocol in 1998, a weeklong 

meeting was set aside for what was termed the Transitional 

Environmental Working Group (TEWG). These meetings 

were held so that the provisions of the protocol could be 

informally implemented prior to its entry into force and to 

prepare the way for the CEP to start its work efficiently. 

Thus, the development of draft rules of procedure at the 

1997 TEWG meeting in Christchurch allowed the CEP to 

start its work effectively in 1998 without a focus on procedural issues.

When the protocol finally entered into force in 1998, 

the first meeting of CEP was then held in Tromsø. At this 

meeting the parties demonstrated considerable will to 

make progress on substantial environmental issues. Procedurally, a number of matters relating to the rules of 

procedure also had to be clarified, such as which invited 

experts and observers were able to attend CEP meetings, 

the establishment of CEP subsidiary bodies, and submission of documents to the CEP.15 The committee had also 

to establish its own modes of work, and the ATCM and 

the CEP had to fine-tune their relationship. Both of these 

issues are discussed further below.

The arrival of CEP as a new body within the Antarctic Treaty System also meant clarifying its role in relation to other already established bodies, such as SCAR, 

the Scientific Committee for the Conservation of Antarctic 

Marine Living Resources (SC-CAMLR) established under 

CCAMLR, and the Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP).

The SCAR was—and still is—the primary body for 

providing scientific advice to the ATCM. Over the years 

SCAR had also established a role of giving advice on environmental management issues through one of its groups 

of specialists, the Group of Specialists on Environmental 
ORHEIM / MANAGING THE ANTARCTIC ENVIRONMENT • 213

Affairs and Conservation (GOSEAC). Initially, there were 

some difficulties in the relationship between SCAR and the 

CEP, especially over the role of GOSEAC, but the rapid 

development of environmental management competence 

within the CEP saw SCAR gradually withdraw from its 

practice of providing environmental advice, and its role 

has become more focused on scientific advice.

The relationship between the CEP and COMNAP 

evolved more smoothly, aided by the considerable overlap 

between delegations to CEP meetings and staff employed 

by national Antarctic programs with environmental management responsibility. Over the past 12 years this has 

often seen the CEP and COMNAP develop common approaches to problem solving. The relationship between the 

CEP and SC-CAMLR is discussed below.

THE GROWTH OF WORK OF THE CEP

As the CEP matured over the first decade of the 

twenty-first century, its workload increased significantly 

(and continues to do so). It had become standard practice 

by then for the annual ATCM to be held over two weeks, 

with the CEP meeting in the first week, adopting its report 

on the last day, compiling, translating, and printing it over 

the weekend and reporting to the plenary of the ATCM at 

the beginning of the second week.

The number of working papers and information papers presented to the committee has grown significantly 

over the period of its operation, with just 12 working 

papers considered at its first meeting and some 48 at its 

most recent (Figure 2). The number of information papers 

FIGURE 2. The number of working papers (WPs) and information papers (IPs) presented to each meeting of the 

CEP.

0

10

20

30

40

50

60

70

80

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII

Number of WPs

Number of IPs
214 • science diplomacy

has always exceeded the number of working papers, but 

these too have grown in number. The committee’s practice has been to consider all working papers because they 

contain matters of substance on the committee’s agenda 

or required discussion on issues on which the committee was able to provide recommendations to the ATCM. 

Although the committee was not necessarily required to 

do more than “note” information papers, the practice of 

many members and committee observers remains to introduce and speak to most (if not quite all) of their submitted 

papers.

This growth in the number of papers has also affected 

the scale of the CEP report. The number of paragraphs 

in its report might be taken as a simple measure of the 

amount of work undertaken by the committee at its annual meetings (Figure 3). This in itself takes up time in 

that each of the paragraphs of the CEP’s report has to be 

agreed by the committee before it closes its business each 

year. Adoption of the CEP’s report now takes close to one 

full day of its weeklong meeting.

As a result, managing the business of CEP meetings has become increasingly complex and, to an extent, 

has limited the committee’s ability to make progress on 

intractable issues or provide adequate time for discussion 

of high-priority issues (see below for discussion of the 

CEP’s informal workshop in 2006 in Edinburgh, which, 

among other things, recommended streamlining the business of CEP meetings and prioritising matters for its future 

consideration).

Environmental Impact Assessments

A significant area of work for the committee emerged 

as parties began to fulfil their obligations under Article 

8 and Annex 1 of the protocol, and the CEP established 

its practice for consideration of draft comprehensive environmental evaluations (CEEs; and other matters related to 

environmental impact assessment).

Article 8 of the protocol requires parties to ensure 

that “activities [to be undertaken in Antarctica] . . . shall 

be subject to the procedures set out in Annex I for prior assessment of the impacts of those activities on the Antarctic 

environment or on dependent or associated ecosystems according to whether those activities are identified as having: 

(a) less than a minor or transitory impact; (b) a minor or 

transitory impact; or (c) more than a minor or transitory 

FIGURE 3. The total number of paragraphs in each of the CEP’s annual reports.

0

50

100

150

200

250

300

350

400

450

I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII

Number of Report

Paragraphs
ORHEIM / MANAGING THE ANTARCTIC ENVIRONMENT • 215

impact.” If an activity is determined to have “more than 

a minor or transitory impact,” the party is required to 

prepare a draft CEE, which is to be circulated to all parties and at the same time forwarded to the CEP. Annex I 

provides that “no final decision shall be taken to proceed 

with the proposed activity in the Antarctic Treaty area unless there has been an opportunity for consideration of the 

draft Comprehensive Environmental Evaluation by the 

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting on the advice of 

the Committee.”

This provision is (like other elements of the protocol) 

open to interpretation. Having the “opportunity for consideration” does not necessarily mean that the committee 

must spend time at its meeting discussing a draft CEE that 

has been circulated.

At its first meeting in Tromsø in 1998, one of the significant issues discussed was the role of the CEP in considering CEEs and the interplay between the party providing 

the draft CEE, the CEP, and the ATCM. The report of 

the committee’s first meeting records at paragraph 25 the 

following:

The majority of delegations expressed the view that given 

the potential environmental significance of major activities the 

CEP should provide advice to the ATCM on all draft CEEs. The 

US was of the view that the CEP should take the opportunity 

to review draft CEEs only when a member of the Committee 

believed that there was a particular scientific, technical, or procedural matter requiring consideration. Chile was concerned with 

the need for the future practice of the CEP in this matter to conform strictly with the provisions of the Protocol and its Annex 

I. The Committee agreed that the Protocol gives the CEP the 

opportunity to consider and give advice on scientific, technical 

or procedural issues on draft CEEs. Furthermore, as laid down 

in Article 3(4) of Annex I, the Committee recognized that draft 

CEEs are to be forwarded to the CEP at the same time as they 

are circulated to the Parties, and at least 120 days before the next 

ATCM for consideration as appropriate.16

At the second meeting of the CEP in Lima in 1999 the 

committee agreed to formalise an agenda item: “Consideration of Draft CEEs forwarded to the CEP in accordance 

with Paragraph 4 of Article 3 of Annex I to the Protocol.” 

From these early deliberations arose the standard practice 

of the CEP considering all draft CEEs provided by parties and then preparing formal advice to the ATCM on 

these draft CEEs. Thus, the CEP began its process of formal evaluation of the environmental impacts of activities 

in Antarctica subject to a CEE, and at its third meeting 

in The Hague in 2000, the CEP provided formal advice 

to the Special ATCM on a draft CEE from Germany for 

“recovering a deep ice core in Dronning Maud Land, 

Antarctica.”17

We note in passing that there was no regular ATCM 

in The Hague in 2000, so this was a time when there were 

two years between regular ATCMs, a situation that existed in the past and could exist again in the future. Instead 

of the regular ATCM, a Special ATCM, the 12th, was arranged to follow the end of CEP meeting to consider the 

CEP report and the draft CEE. In this way a practice was 

instituted that overcame the problem of a year without a 

regular ATCM, which could have caused corresponding 

delays in planning Antarctic activities. Since 2000 there 

have been annual regular ATCMs, so this situation has 

not arisen again.

Consideration of the German CEE was followed by 

the more controversial proposal of the Russian Federation 

to penetrate Lake Vostok by drilling more than 3,500 m 

below the surface of the ice in East Antarctica. At the 2002 

meeting in Warsaw the Russian Federation presented a 

working paper containing a draft CEE for their proposed 

drilling, but it had not been circulated in conformity with 

Annex 1 of the protocol. Although discussion on the 

proposal took place at CEP V, formal consideration was 

deferred until the following meeting in 2003 in Madrid, 

where the CEP considered not only the draft CEE of the 

Russian Federation but also a draft CEE from New Zealand for sedimentary rock drilling at Cape Roberts in the 

Ross Sea region and a draft CEE for a new station to be 

built by the Czech Republic (which had not yet ratified the 

protocol, and was therefore not legally bound to comply 

with its provisions).

The requirement of the protocol for the CEP to give 

advice on a draft CEE is one of the core functions of the 

committee. Consideration of draft CEEs took a considerable portion of the time allocated to the CEP’s agenda, 

and concern continued to grow about the workload of the 

CEP. As the procedures of the CEP evolved, it instituted 

mechanisms that allowed for initial consideration of draft 

CEEs between meetings, through the formation of an Intersessional Contact Group, with formal consideration in 

the annual committee meeting.18 By the time of the Baltimore meeting in 2009 (CEP XII), nine draft CEEs had 

been formally considered by the CEP.

Although consideration of CEEs provided the highest 

level of scrutiny by the CEP of proposed activities in Antarctica, parties began the practice of also submitting initial 

environmental evaluations to the committee as a means 

of providing information and guidance on environmental 

impact procedures and evaluation. Annex I of the protocol 
216 • science diplomacy

provides that “unless it has been determined that an activity will have less than a minor or transitory impact, 

or unless a Comprehensive Environmental Evaluation is 

being prepared . . . , an Initial Environmental Evaluation 

shall be prepared. It shall contain sufficient detail to assess 

whether a proposed activity may have more than a minor 

or transitory impact . . . If an Initial Environmental Evaluation indicates that a proposed activity is likely to have no 

more than a minor or transitory impact, the activity may 

proceed.” At its first meeting in Tromsø in 1998, the CEP 

considered a number of papers providing guidance on preparing environmental impact assessments under the protocol. In its second meeting in 1999 the CEP recommended, 

and the ATCM adopted, “Guidelines for Environmental 

Impact Assessment in Antarctica,” and these were revised 

by the CEP in 2005.19

Management Plans for Protected Areas

Another significant area of “statutory” work conducted by the CEP, which also grew significantly during 

the first decade of the twenty-first century, was the consideration of management plans under Annex V, “Area 

Protection and Management.” Management plans are required for all Antarctic Specially Protected Areas (ASPAs; 

Article 3 of Annex V of the protocol) and Antarctic Specially Managed Areas (ASMAs; Article 4 of Annex V of 

the protocol), and all management plans are required to be 

reviewed every five years. By the end of 2009 there were 

71 ASPAs and 7 ASMAs declared under the provisions of 

the protocol.

In 2000 the parties adopted “Guidelines for the Implementation of the Framework for Protected Areas Set 

Forth in Article 3, Annex V of the Environmental Protocol” to assist parties in developing management plans for 

the CEP’s consideration.20 With the growing maturity of 

the CEP and the parties’ compliance with the provisions 

of the protocol, interest grew in designating ASMAs and 

developing management plans for them.

The first ASMAs to be formally designated by the 

ATCM (in 2004) were for the Dry Valleys in Southern 

Victoria Land and at Cape Denison, Commonwealth Bay 

(although the designation “ASMA 1” was reserved for the 

proposed ASMA at Admiralty Bay, which had been under 

development for almost a decade and which was eventually designated in 2006). With this increased interest in 

designating ASMAs and the need to refine the CEP’s consideration of protected area management plans, the parties 

adopted in 2008 the “Guide to the Presentation of Working Papers Containing Proposals for Antarctic Specially 

Protected Areas, Antarctic Specially Managed Areas or 

Historic Sites and Monuments.”21

The requirement to not only consider plans of management for new protected areas but also to review all 

management plans every five years resulted in a significant growth in work for the CEP. Ultimately, this led to 

the CEP developing its first formal subsidiary body tasked 

with the consideration of management plans developed 

under Annex V to the protocol (see discussion below).

A ROLLING REVIEW OF THE ANNEXES 

TO THE PROTOCOL

At the CEP’s fourth meeting in Saint Petersburg in 

2002, 11 years after the adoption of the protocol, the CEP 

decided to conduct a rolling review of the annexes to the 

protocol: “The CEP noted that its work, most recently 

the intersessional considerations of Specially Protected 

Species, had shown that improvements could be made to 

the Annexes of the protocol. The Committee therefore decided to conduct a rolling review of the Annexes, starting at CEP V with Annex II.”22 This was endorsed by the 

ATCM. Article 12 of the protocol outlines the functions of 

the committee, and Article 9 provides the framework for 

amendments to the annexes to the protocol. In good faith, 

the CEP set out to instigate a process whereby the annex 

would be reviewed by the committee and recommendations forwarded to the ATCM to amend the annex and 

improve the operation of the annexes in light of new information or experience in implementation or changes in best 

practice approaches to environmental management. It was 

initially thought that each review would take two years.23

The reality of amending the annexes is borne out by 

the fact that it was not until 2009 in Baltimore that the parties finally accepted the CEP’s recommendations to amend 

Annex II to the protocol (Measure 16 [2009], “Amendment of Annex II to the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty: Conservation of Antarctic 

Fauna and Flora”).24 What was accepted in Baltimore was 

a much-refined and reduced set of proposed amendments 

to the annex than had originally been presented by the 

CEP to the ATCM in 2004.

What had been envisaged as a practical look at how the 

CEP and the Antarctic Treaty Parties could meet their obligations under the protocol became a very highly politicised 

and complex negotiation over the scope not only of the 

annex but of the protocol itself. The most intense discussions and negotiations were over the name of the annex and 

definitions of flora and fauna for the purposes of the annex.
ORHEIM / MANAGING THE ANTARCTIC ENVIRONMENT • 217

How marine species were to be dealt with, whether 

microbes should be covered and how, and what was covered by accidental or deliberate introduction (and many 

other matters), all became the subject of intense and long 

deliberation, first in the CEP (to 2004) and subsequently 

in the ATCM (to 2009). Some parties felt that reviewing 

the annexes amounted to a renegotiation of the protocol 

itself (despite its explicit facility for review), and others 

were concerned that amendments to the annexes required 

complicated domestic legal actions, which they felt were 

not warranted. Perhaps, in hindsight, it was unwise to 

begin the rolling review with Annex II, which intersects 

with other parts of the Antarctic Treaty System and with 

other international instruments.

Sanchez and McIvor considered that after the conclusion of deliberations on Annex II the most likely candidates 

for further review would be Annex I (“Environmental 

Impact Assessment”) or Annex V (“Area Protection and 

Management”), for which a considerable amount of practice has developed among parties and within the CEP. 25

Although this suggestion remains apposite, at the time of 

writing this paper, the CEP had not discussed the issue 

of making any further amendments to the protocol’s annexes. Although there are several elements of the annexes 

that might merit attention and improvement, the political 

appetite to begin amending another annex is unlikely to 

return for some time.

A GROWING MATURITY

After more than a decade of operation, the role of 

the CEP, and to an extent the importance of the role it 

plays, is worthy of some attention. As has been noted in 

this paper, the Antarctic Treaty Parties have, over time, 

placed considerable emphasis on managing the Antarctic environment. Negotiation of and agreement on the 

Environmental Protocol could be regarded as a zenith in 

this regard: the culmination of years of development of 

environmental standards and practices synthesised into a 

single agreement that set out tough new rules on environmental protection. The concomitant establishment of the 

CEP with its advisory role to the Treaty Parties on the 

effectiveness of implementation of the protocol was also 

a clear demonstration of the importance that the parties 

place on setting high standards of protection for the Antarctic environment.

As a new body, it was important for the CEP to establish itself and put in place procedures and practices that allowed it to fulfil its mandate effectively and efficiently. The 

means and the success by which the CEP has established 

itself have been covered earlier in this paper.

However, since the Environmental Protocol was 

agreed in 1991 and even since the CEP first met in 1998, 

the context in which the CEP has undertaken its work has 

changed. The Antarctic environment has experienced significant change and has been subject to additional pressures. Such pressures are becoming more evident and 

arguably more urgent in their need for attention.

Since 1991 shipborne tourists making landings in 

Antarctica have increased from 6,704 to 32,198.26 The 

average annual mean temperature on the Antarctic Peninsula has increased by more than 2.5°C over the past 50 

years.27 There has been a significant loss of ice shelves,28

and nonnative species have been identified in Antarctica.29

National program activities have also increased, with 

eight new bases being established around the continent.30

Air access to Antarctica has become more prevalent, with 

approximately 11 new ice runways (permanent and temporary) constructed.31

These environmental pressures are very real and likely 

only to become more intense over time. As a result, the role 

that the CEP plays and its capacity to deal with the challenges being faced by the Antarctic environment merit close 

attention. If the CEP is to continue to meet its mandate 

of providing timely and defensible advice to the ATCM, 

it must continue to address two key issues: the capacity of 

the committee to manage a burgeoning workload and its 

access to timely and defensible data and information.

PRIORITISING THE CEP’S WORKLOAD

Over the decade or so of the CEP’s operation, it has 

evolved a number of means to facilitate its work. These 

include establishing ad hoc informal discussion groups 

among those parties wishing to be involved that communicate by e-mail between meetings (these are known 

as Intersessional Contact Groups), the holding of workshops (usually immediately ahead of annual CEP meetings 

to ensure maximum attendance), and the development of 

an online discussion forum. The Intersessional Contact 

Groups and online discussion forums have provided useful mechanisms to progress the work of the CEP. However, having no formal status, their recommendations and 

deliberations still require the committee’s endorsement, a 

fact that sometime leads to prolonged and often repetitious discussion.

In June 2006, immediately prior to its ninth meeting 

in Edinburgh, the committee held an informal Workshop 
218 • science diplomacy

on Antarctica’s Future Environmental Challenges.32 Informal workshops such as these have provided useful and 

productive mechanisms for exchanging ideas and generating initiatives for the committee’s further consideration.

A central issue of the Edinburgh workshop was the 

CEP’s workload and the committee’s ability to address 

high-priority and emerging environmental issues. A number of potential options for managing this issue were proposed, including means to prioritise the CEP’s work and 

making better use of the CEP’s informal subsidiary bodies.

Although it seemed clear to participants in the workshop that there was a need to manage the burgeoning 

workload of the CEP and provide focus on priority environmental issues, the adoption of a clear prioritised work 

plan has taken time to emerge. In its consideration of the 

outcome of the workshop, CEP IX agreed to develop a 

prioritised five-year work plan. Following intersessional 

consultation, a draft prioritised work plan was presented 

to CEP X, at which the committee agreed to implement it 

on a trial basis.

An important principle that emerged during the development of the CEP’s work plan was that prioritising issues 

on the CEP’s agenda needed to be based on the severity of 

actual or perceived threats to the Antarctic environment 

and its biota. Although this would appear to be an obvious approach to take, it did require a deliberate shift in the 

approach to the work being taken by the committee. Up to 

that point the committee had simply been adding new issues to its meeting agendas as they arose, an approach that 

resulted in the CEP attempting to address a growing raft 

of issues at every meeting, irrespective of the actual threat 

posed to the Antarctic environment.

The act of recognising that some issues demanded 

more immediate attention than others has had two results. 

First, the higher-priority issues have received greater and 

more focussed attention, including greater discussion time 

at the CEP’s annual meetings. Second, issues considered 

to be of a lesser threat to the environment (for example, 

waste management, which national Antarctic programs 

largely have in hand) have been removed from the CEP’s 

agenda (though they can be reinstated as required).

The CEP’s prioritised five year work plan should provide two additional benefits. First, it allows the CEP’s observers and invited experts to see in advance when the CEP 

is likely to tackle issues in which they have an interest and 

thus plan their own contributions to the CEP’s work. The 

work plan should also allow the ATCM to anticipate when 

it might receive advice from the committee on key issues. 

Concomitantly, such an approach should also provide the 

ATCM with an opportunity to comment on and influence 

the prioritisation of the CEP’s work in accordance with 

the ATCM’s own interests and priorities. The interaction 

between the CEP and the ATCM will be discussed later in 

this paper.

To date, the five-year work plan has been used somewhat tentatively by the CEP, and options for a more rigorous approach to setting the CEP’s work priorities through 

the five-year plan need to be explored. These might include allocating more time to discussing the matter of 

work prioritisation at the CEP’s annual meeting and making the work plan more widely available to CEP members 

and observers through the CEP’s Web site (rather than the 

current practice of simply appending the work plan to the 

CEP’s annual report).

The second option for tackling the CEP’s workload, 

on which some action has recently been taken, involves 

the establishment of topic-related working groups. The 

CEP’s rules of procedure provide for the establishment 

of subsidiary bodies with the ATCM’s approval, though 

there has been an element of reluctance to do so.33 Arguably, the principle reason for the CEP and ATCM being 

reluctant to establish formal subsidiary bodies has been 

the requirement in the CEP’s rules of procedure for such 

bodies to operate in the four official languages of the Antarctic Treaty.34 The perceived impediment has been the 

substantial costs involved in having interpretation and 

translation facilities available for intersessional meetings 

of these subsidiary bodies.

In somewhat characteristic fashion, albeit after a few 

years of consideration, the CEP found a practical solution to this challenge. In 2009 the CEP recommended 

to the ATCM the establishment of a subsidiary body 

to manage the consideration of protected and managed 

area management plans (Subsidiary Group on Management Plans, SGMP). As discussed above, consideration 

of management plans for such areas had for some time 

dominated meetings of the committee. By delegating this 

work to a permanently established subgroup with a dedicated convenor, the CEP anticipated freeing up a substantial amount of time at its annual meeting for other 

discussions. In presenting this case to the ATCM, the CEP 

overcame the issue of interpretation and translation by 

suggesting that all intersessional work be conducted by 

e-mail and use of the CEP online discussion forum in one 

common language (English), with the product of its work, 

i.e., its report to the CEP, being translated into the four 

languages of the treaty sufficiently well in advance so that 

all participants had the opportunity to view it in their 

preferred language, prior to its consideration by the CEP. 

The SGMP has been in operation for the last two years, 
ORHEIM / MANAGING THE ANTARCTIC ENVIRONMENT • 219

and the anticipated benefits have already been realised in 

the committee’s work.

These are perhaps the most substantive examples of 

how the CEP has had to adapt in order to ensure it is giving adequate attention to issues of high priority for the 

Antarctic environment. But in the opinion of the authors 

the CEP cannot afford to rest there. Additional measures 

need to be pursued, including the establishment of additional subsidiary bodies or experts groups on issues considered to be a high priority.

AVAILABILITY OF DATA 

AND INFORMATION

Although the prioritisation of its agenda will hopefully continue to ensure that the CEP is addressing those 

matters most critical to the Antarctic environment, there 

remain additional constraints that the CEP has recognised need further attention. Unlike the SC-CAMLR established under the Convention on the Conservation of 

Antarctic Marine Living Resources (arguably the CEP’s 

“sister committee” within the Antarctic Treaty System), 

the CEP does not have dedicated resources that it can 

draw on. The SC-CAMLR can seek, with the commission’s endorsement, dedicated funding for intersessional 

work, such as the holding of workshops and subsidiary 

scientific meetings. The SC-CAMLR also has dedicated 

support within the CCAMLR Secretariat, including a science officer and data management support. The CEP has 

no access to such resources. There is no “environmental officer” within the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat’s staff 

and no dedicated data management resources (although 

secretariat staff spend a considerable proportion of their 

effort on CEP business). Yet the expectation remains (appropriately) that the CEP provide the ATCM with timely, 

scientifically defensible advice on the management of the 

Antarctic environment.

At present, the CEP does not routinely review or consider a prescribed set of data or information or summary 

reports on aspects that would support its policy advisory 

role. It would be expected of a fully functioning committee that it routinely have access to a range of environmental information for its review and on which it can base 

its advice. This might include, for example, status and 

trends of key species, trends in tourism numbers (e.g., at 

key locations), nonnative species data, and climate change 

reports (e.g., regional climate trends and environmental 

responses). At present, no mechanisms exist for the CEP 

routinely to have such information made available to it.

Perhaps part of this problem lies more in the fact that 

the CEP has not yet been able to agree on what its information requirements are, rather than the means of accessing it. This has been and remains to a large extent a 

fundamental challenge for the CEP and is a matter deserving of priority attention by the committee.

In the absence of its own data and information management resources, the CEP has been required to seek the 

advice of, as well as data from, other sources and organisations. Key among the organisations with which the CEP 

has needed to forge a relationship is SCAR. The Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty 

recognises SCAR’s expertise and advisory role (to both 

the CEP and the ATCM) in a number of its articles.35 The 

SCAR has played a significant advisory role to the ATCM 

since the early 1960s, including in the development of the 

Agreed Measures of 1964, the negotiations of CCAMLR, 

and the development of other ATCM recommendations 

and initiatives.36

Notwithstanding this central role played by SCAR for 

several decades, the establishment of the CEP in 1998 has 

forced a reassessment of the various relationships within 

the ATS. The establishment of the CEP usurped much of 

the advisory position that SCAR had maintained since the 

entry in to force of the Antarctic Treaty. It has been necessary for both the CEP and SCAR to adjust to a new way 

of working. This has been in large part tempered by the 

time it has taken for the CEP to establish itself and begin 

to stand on its own feet.

However, SCAR also has limited resources and relies 

on its membership to provide their support to SCAR’s 

work mostly on a voluntary basis. The SCAR’s ability 

to respond to and support the CEP’s needs is limited and 

needs to be carefully managed, and it is far from ideal for 

the CEP to be wholly dependent upon others for making 

progress on its work. It remains important for the CEP to 

continue to examine its own data and information needs 

and how these might be met.

EMERGING OPPORTUNITIES

Opportunities are emerging that may help improve 

the situation. Over the last few years there has been a proliferation of online Antarctic databases and information. 

Examples include the SCAR-Marine Biodiversity Information Network (SCAR-MarBIN),37 SCAR’s biodiversity database (maintained by the Australian Antarctic Division),38

and the Agreement on the Conservation of Albatross and 

Petrels’ species summary reports.39 Such resources have so 
220 • science diplomacy

far been underutilised by the CEP and need to be more 

routinely used to support the CEP’s work, both at its annual meetings and in its intersessional work.

The SCAR’s Antarctic Climate Change and the Environment (ACCE) report also represents a further opportunity for the CEP to have access to rigorous information on 

climate change in the Antarctic region (as do, of course, 

the reports of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate 

Change and other scientific reports on the Antarctic region).40 The CEP needs to use this as a basis for consideration of where its own effort should be placed. But regular 

updates on elements of the ACCE (for example, by means 

of a “report card” approach) would be useful for the CEP.

Furthermore, the component parts of the treaty system also need to give consideration to how they interact 

with regard to data and information gathering and sharing. The two key bodies in this regard are SC-CAMLR and 

the CEP. The effective scope of both these bodies overlap, 

particularly on species protection, protected area management, and environmental monitoring. Greater cooperation 

and joint effort in areas of common interest can only be of 

benefit to both the CEP and SC-CAMLR. The recent joint 

workshop between the CEP and the SC-CAMLR (held in 

Baltimore in April 2009) was a significant achievement 

and successful in sharing information and ideas, clarifying 

lead roles on key matters, and clarifying what is and what 

is not of shared interest.

Other organisations with which the CEP has established good working relationships include the International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN), the 

United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), ASOC, 

and the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO). Good progress has been made in these 

relationships, but further effort is required to make information and data exchange between these bodies and the 

CEP effective and useful.

THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN 

THE CEP AND THE ATCM

It is self-evident that the CEP has an important relationship with the ATCM. That relationship merits closer 

scrutiny.

In its Article 10, the protocol makes it clear that the 

primary decision- and policy-making role in respect of 

managing the Antarctic environment remains squarely 

with the ATCM. Article 10 also states that the ATCM, in 

making its decisions, shall review the work of the committee and draw upon its advice. Article 11 of the protocol 

requires the CEP to report to the ATCM, and Article 12 

states that “the functions of the Committee shall be to 

provide advice and formulate recommendations to the 

Parties in connection with the implementation of this Protocol, including the operation of its Annexes, for consideration at Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings, and to 

perform such other functions as may be referred to it by 

the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings.” Article 12, 

paragraph 1(j), specifically requires the CEP to advise the 

ATCM on the state of the Antarctic environment.

It is therefore clear that the committee is an advisory 

body to the ATCM and subservient to it. This then places 

a responsibility upon both bodies. The CEP needs to ensure that it is providing timely, relevant, and scientifically 

based advice to the ATCM. In turn, the ATCM needs to 

be responsive to the advice of the committee and provide 

adequate direction to the committee to ensure that it is 

working on issues that are important and of benefit to the 

ATCM. Our experience shows that this is a role that not 

always has been given priority by the ATCM.

FUTURE CHALLENGES

The point of suggesting improvements and highlighting the issues in this paper is that managing the Antarctic environment has arguably never been more pressing. 

Significant challenges remain with a changing Antarctic 

climate, most immediately on the Antarctic Peninsula, affected species, and the implications of increasing human 

activity (both through tourism and the activities of national programs).

Although it is up to the parties to appoint their representatives and experts to the CEP, the work load and 

diversity of issues at considered by the CEP has become 

larger and more complex, and the burden on those attending CEP has increased. More than ever, the CEP needs a 

broad range of skills and competence, and representatives 

need to be well prepared for the agenda of the meetings. 

There is, unfortunately, a tendency to allow some parties to carry a disproportionate share of the work load 

of the CEP. This trend is probably not sustainable in the 

long term.

The pace of change in Antarctica is beginning to demand a more responsive and proactive system of management. To that end, the CEP is likely to play an increasingly 

important advisory role to the ATCM. The CEP needs to 

be adequately supported and resourced, and it needs to develop and maintain strong partnerships with key organisations to ensure it fulfils its mandate in the future.
ORHEIM / MANAGING THE ANTARCTIC ENVIRONMENT • 221

NOTES

1. The Antarctic Treaty, http://www.ats.aq/documents/ats/treaty_

original.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

2. Antarctic Treaty.

3. Report of the Third Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting 

(ATCM), http://www.ats.aq/devAS/ats_meetings_meeting.aspx?lang=e 

(accessed 1 December 2010).

4. Report of the Third ATCM.

5. Report of the Third ATCM.

6. The Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, 

http://www.ats.aq//e/ats_protocol.htm (accessed 1 December 2010).

7. Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, http://www.ccamlr.org (accessed 1 December 2010).

8. Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals, http://www

.ats.aq/documents/recatt/Att076_e.pdf (1 December 2010).

9. Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, Article 2.

10. P. J. Beck, The International Politics of Antarctica (London: 

Croom Helm, 1986), pp. 246–247.

11. Beck, International Politics.

12. Beck, International Politics, p. 245

13. Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource 

Activity; and the Final Act of the Fourth Special Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting on Antarctic Mineral Resources, http://www.ats.aq/

devAS/ats_meetings_meeting.aspx?lang=e (accessed 1 December 2010).

14. T. Andersen, “Resource Management and the Protection of the 

Environment,” in Norway in the Antarctic (Oslo: Schibsted, 2008), pp. 

108–129.

15. O. Orheim, “The Committee for Environmental Protection: Its 

Establishment, Operation and Role within the Antarctic Treaty System,” 

in Implementing the Environmental Protection Regime for the Antarctic, 

ed. D. Vidas (Dordrecht, the Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 

2000), pp. 107–124.

16. Report of the Committee for Environmental Protection (CEP 

I), http://www.ats.aq//documents/cep/atcm22_cepi_e.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

17. Report of the Committee for Environmental Protection 

(CEP III), http://www.ats.aq//documents/cep/cep%20documents/ml_

376356825578704_finalReportE.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

18. R. Sanchez and E. McIvor, “The Antarctic Committee for Environmental Protection: Past, Present, and Future,” Polar Record 43

(2007): 239–246.

19. “Guidelines for Environmental Impact Assessment in Antarctica,” http://www.ats.aq/documents/recatt/Att266_e.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

20. “Guidelines for the Implementation of the Framework for 

Protected Areas Set Forth in Article 3, Annex V of the Environmental 

Protocol,” http://www.ats.aq/documents/recatt/att081_e.pdf (accessed 1 

December 2010).

21. “Guide to the Presentation of Working Papers Containing 

Proposals for Antarctic Specially Protected Areas, Antarctic Specially 

Managed Areas or Historic Sites and Monuments,” http://www.ats.aq/

documents/recatt/Att406_e.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

22. Report of the Committee for Environmental Protection 

(CEP IV), http://www.ats.aq//documents/cep/cep%20documents/ml_

376374591319444_finalReportE.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

23. All three authors had leading roles in this process, and all initially expected that the process would be straight forward.

24. Final report of the Thirty-Second Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Meeting, http://www.ats.aq//documents/ATCM32/fr/ATCM32_fr002_e

.pdf (accessed 1 December 2010).

25. Sanchez and McIvor, “The Antarctic Committee for Environmental Protection,” 239–246.

26. International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators, “IAATO 

Overview of Antarctic Tourism: 2008–2009: Antarctic Season and Preliminary Estimates for 2009–2010 Antarctic Season,” ATCM XXXII 

Information Paper 86 (IAATO, 2009), http://www.ats.aq/documents/

ATCM32/ip/ATCM32_ip086_rev1_e.doc (accessed 1 December 2010).

27. J. Turner, R. A. Bindschadler, P. Convey, G. Di Prisco, E. Fahrbach, J. Gutt, D. A. Hodgson, P. A. Mayewski, and C. P. Summerhayes, 

Antarctic Climate Change and the Environment (Cambridge: Scientific 

Committee for Antarctic Research, 2009).

28. Turner et al., Antarctic Climate Change.

29. Y. Frenot, S. L. Chown, J. Whinam, P. M. Selkirk, P. Convey, 

M. Skotniki, and D. M. Bergstrom, “Biological Invasions in the Antarctic: Extent, Impacts and Implications,” Biological Reviews 80 (2005): 

45–72.

30. Source: Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programmes, http://www.comnap.aq/facilities (accessed 1 December 2010).

31. Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programmes Web 

site.

32. “Antarctica’s Future Environmental Challenges: A Summary 

Report of the CEP Workshop, Edinburgh, United Kingdom, 9–10 June 

2006,” CEP IX Working Paper 42 http://www.ats.aq//devAS/ats_meetings_

documents.aspx?lang=e&id=60 (accessed 1 December 2010).

33. CEP, “Rules of Procedure,” http://www.ats.aq/e/cep_rop.htm 

(accessed 1 December 2010).

34. CEP, “Rules of Procedure.”

35. See, for example, Articles 10, paragraph 2, and 12, paragraph 

2, of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty; 

Article 3, paragraph 1, of Annex III to the protocol; and Articles 5, paragraph 1, and 6 of Annex V to the protocol.

36. J. H. Zumberge, “The Antarctic Treaty as a Scientific Mechanism—The Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research and the Antarctic 

Treaty System,” in Antarctic Treaty System: An Assessment. Proceedings 

of a Workshop Held at Beardmore South Field Camp, Antarctica, January 7–13, 1985 (Washington, D.C.: National Academies Press, 1986), 

pp. 153–168.

37. The SCAR-Marine Biodiversity Information Network, http://

www.scarmarbin.be (accessed 1 December 2010).

38. SCAR’s Biodiversity Database, http://data.aad.gov.au/aadc/bio

diversity (accessed 1 December 2010).

39. The Agreement on the Conservation of Albatross and Petrels’ 

species summary reports, http://www.acap.aq/publications-acap-species 

(accessed 1 December 2010).

40. Turner et al., Antarctic Climate Change.

The ANTOSTRAT Legacy: 

Science Collaboration and International 

Transparency in Potential Marine Mineral 

Resource Exploitation of Antarctica

Alan Cooper, Peter Barker, Peter Barrett, 

John Behrendt, Giuliano Brancolini, Jonathan 

Childs, Carlota Escutia, Wilfried Jokat, Yngve 

Kristoffersen, German Leitchenkov, Howard 

Stagg, Manabu Tanahashi, Nigel Wardell, 

and Peter Webb

ABSTRACT. The Antarctic Offshore Stratigraphy project (ANTOSTRAT; 1989–2002) 

was an extremely successful collaboration in international marine geological science that 

also lifted the perceived “veil of secrecy” from studies of potential exploitation of Antarctic 

marine mineral resources. The project laid the groundwork for circum-Antarctic seismic, 

drilling, and rock coring programs designed to decipher Antarctica’s tectonic, stratigraphic, 

and climate histories. In 2002, ANTOSTRAT evolved into the equally successful and currently active Antarctic Climate Evolution research program. The need for, and evolution 

of, ANTOSTRAT was based on two simple tenets within SCAR and the Antarctic Treaty: 

international science collaboration and open access to data. The ANTOSTRAT project 

may be a helpful analog for other regions of strong international science and geopolitical 

interests, such as the Arctic. This is the ANTOSTRAT story.

ANTARCTIC OFFSHORE STRATIGRAPHY PROJECT: 

THE EARLY YEARS

In 1986, the science community established the Scientific Committee on 

Antarctic Research (SCAR) Group of Specialists on Cenozoic Paleoenvironments in Southern High Latitudes to study and assess geologic sample and core 

data as well as geophysical remote sensing data to better comprehend Antarctica’s geologic history and its impact on global sea level and climate change 

(Figure 1). Recognizing that Antarctica is 98% ice covered, the Antarctic 

Alan Cooper (emeritus), U.S. Geological Survey, 

and Department of Geological and Environmental Sciences, Stanford University. Peter Barker 

(retired), British Antarctic Survey, and Earth and 

Environmental Sciences, University of Birmingham. Peter Barrett, Antarctic Research Centre 

and New Zealand Climate Change Research 

Institute, Victoria University of Wellington. John 

Behrendt, Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research, 

University of Colorado, and (emeritus) U.S. Geological Survey. Giuliano Brancolini (retired), Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia e di Geofisica 

Sperimentale. Jonathan Childs, U.S. Geological 

Survey. Carlota Escutia, Instituto Andaluz de 

Ciencias de la Tierra, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas–Universidad de Granada. 

Wilfried Jokat, Alfred Wegener Institute. Yngve 

Kristoffersen, Department of Earth Science, University of Bergen. German Leitchenkov, Research 

Institute for Geology and Mineral Resources of 

the World Ocean, VNIIOkeangeologia. Howard 

Stagg (retired), Geoscience Australia. Manabu 

Tanahashi, Geological Survey of Japan. Nigel 

Wardell, Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia e di 

Geofisica Sperimentale. Peter Webb, School of 

Earth Sciences, Ohio State University.
224 • science diplomacy

Offshore Stratigraphy project (ANTOSTRAT) was established under the aegis of the Group of Specialists to 

focus geoscience investigations on Antarctica’s offshore 

regions (Cooper and Webb, 1992). The stated objective of ANTOSTRAT was to bring together all research 

groups responsible for collecting offshore geological and 

geophysical data, to collaborate in field and laboratory 

studies directed toward understanding Cenozoic paleoenvironments, to plan future offshore geologic studies, and 

to promote scientific deep drilling.

Prelude to Potential Marine Minerals

Data relevant to ANTOSTRAT had been collected 

in Antarctica since the early 1970s, but these were commonly unavailable to anyone except the data collectors (or 

to collaborators via private data exchange agreements). 

The geologic and geophysical data collected during the 

pre-ANTOSTRAT years were also being used for assessments of offshore mineral resources by national, academic, and corporate research groups. Because many of 

the offshore geologic and geophysical data, especially the 

seismic reflection data, were not openly accessible, there 

was a perceived “veil of secrecy” on the eventual uses of 

ongoing geoscientific studies. Many beyond the Antarctic 

community were asking whether these studies were for research purposes or for mineral exploration.

In the decade preceding the establishment of ANTOSTRAT, interest in Antarctica’s potential mineral resources 

was increasing (e.g., Behrendt, 1983; Splettstoesser and 

Dreschhoff, 1990), with the escalating price and demand 

for such resources. The most important of these resources 

were hydrocarbons.

Collaboration in Science

With the implementation of ANTOSTRAT in 1989 

and the first ANTOSTRAT symposium in April 1990 

(Cooper and Webb, 1990), at which the emphasis was on 

offshore geoscience data, the level of interest in the science and geopolitics of the offshore areas blossomed. At 

the 1990 symposium, the groundwork for collaboration in 

studying the offshore data was laid down with the formation of working groups for the five principal marine regions 

around the Antarctic continent accessible by surface vessels 

(i.e., Ross Sea, Wilkes Land, Prydz Bay, Weddell Sea, and 

Antarctic Peninsula). The working groups were tasked to 

collate, analyze, and publish collaborative research papers 

on the geoscience data from each region. The first tenet of 

ANTOSTRAT (i.e., collaboration in science) was now in 

place, and the interest in, and support for, ANTOSTRAT 

gained momentum among all countries engaged in conducting marine surveys of the Antarctic margin.

THE ANTARCTIC SEISMIC DATA LIBRARY 

SYSTEM FOR COOPERATIVE RESEARCH: 

OPEN ACCESS TO DATA—A LINK TO 

THE ANTARCTIC TREATY

There was, however, still no mechanism in place for 

open access to the most valuable of all Earth science data 

FIGURE 1. The ANTOSTRAT logo and an early 1990s ANTOSTRAT model linking global sea levels to Antarctic 

ice sheet history (modified from Cooper and Webb, 1992).
cooper / THE ANTOSTRAT LEGACY • 225

for research and hydrocarbon exploration: multichannel 

seismic reflection (MCS) data (Figure 2). The MCS data 

are used to image the structure of the Earth, from the seafloor down to 10 km or more below the sea floor. Such 

information is needed to decipher how continents and 

their margins formed. They also help to identify where hydrocarbons may be present. The MCS data are therefore 

both a powerful research tool and a basic and widely used 

tool in the exploration for petroleum. A key criterion for 

establishing their intended use is the level of access to the 

data. MCS data used for research purposes will be openly 

accessible to others (via publication and later release), but 

data collected for commercial exploration purposes will 

rarely be made accessible.

In late 1990, with the level of debate on Antarctica’s 

mineral resources increasing, it was clear to members of 

the ANTOSTRAT steering committee that the second tenet 

of ANTOSTRAT (i.e., open access to data in accord with 

Article III of the Antarctic Treaty) needed to be addressed 

promptly to clearly demonstrate that ANTOSTRAT was 

truly a science project and not mineral exploration of Antarctica undertaken under another name. In April 1991, ANTOSTRAT convened a special workshop in Oslo, Norway, 

to develop and agree to a system by which the highly valued 

MCS data would be made openly accessible. This would 

help ANTOSTRAT move forward faster with its collaborative science agenda of making circum-Antarctic maps needed 

for understanding Antarctica’s geologic and climate history.

FIGURE 2. Multichannel seismic reflection (MCS) data. Maps showing track lines of data: 

(A) collected before 1988 (modified from Behrendt, 1990) and (B) collected as of late 2009 

(about 350,000 km). (C) Example MCS profile across the Ross Sea with seismic stratigraphic 

units (RSS) and Deep Sea Drilling Project site noted (modified from Cooper et al. 2009). 

About 275,000 km of MCS data are now in the SDLS.
226 • science diplomacy

The Oslo workshop included lead scientists from 

groups in the 11 countries that had collected MCS data 

(Cooper and the ANTOSTRAT Steering Committee, 

1991; Figure 2A,C).1 The participants developed a plan 

for a new science data library. All participants agreed to 

the plan and forwarded an outline of it to the XVI Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (October 1991). There 

the outline statement was discussed and adopted as Recommendation XVI-12, thereby formalizing the SCAR 

Antarctic Seismic Data Library System for Cooperative 

Research (SDLS) as part of the Antarctic Treaty System 

(Figure 3). The second tenet of ANTOSTRAT (i.e., open 

access to data) was now in place.

In the same year, 1991, the Madrid Protocol on Antarctic Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty 

(Antarctic Treaty System, 1991) was signed establishing a 

50-year moratorium on resource exploration and exploitation. The MCS data can be used for both exploration 

and basic research, yet the adoption of the SDLS into the 

treaty opened access to these data and removed the perceived veil of secrecy about how they were being used. 

Because MCS data are critical for understanding Earth 

history and paleoclimates, they continue to be collected 

and made openly available for research purposes.

A Unique Approach

The SDLS is unique in its approach to resolving the 

difficult issue of open access to highly valued data. The 

SDLS is a research library system under SCAR and the 

treaty and not an international data bank linked to national or other agencies. The focus is on promoting collaboration and data sharing for research purposes, while 

respecting and preserving intellectual property rights. The 

World Data Center (http://www.ngdc.noaa.gov/wdc/) has 

primary responsibility for archival of data.

The SDLS operates under clearly defined guidelines in 

SCAR Report 9 (Cooper et al., 1991; Childs et al., 1994). 

These guidelines apply to all MCS data collected in Antarctic regions.

A key guideline of the SDLS is that the restrictions on 

use and access to MCS data decrease with time after the 

data are collected (Figure 4):

•	 For an initial period (zero to four years after collection), data collectors retain full intellectual property 

rights to their data.

•	 For the succeeding period (four to eight years), MCS 

data go into the SDLS, where they can only be used 

for collaborative research purposes with the data collector. The data collector cannot deny the collaborative efforts unless another research group is already 

working on the same proposed project.

•	 In the final period (after eight years), the MCS data 

then become openly accessible to anyone, with the 

only restriction being that persons who use the data 

cite the data collector. The open access is via the 

FIGURE 3. Generalized organizational diagram showing the former 

relationships of SCAR, ANTOSTRAT (now ACE), SDLS, and the 

Antarctic Treaty. The SDLS is now under ACE.

FIGURE 4. (top) Locations of SDLS branches and(bottom) concepts 

of the SDLS (modified from Cooper and the ANTOSTRAT Steering Committee, 1991, and SDLS, http://www.scar-sdls.org, accessed 

January 2010). The SDLS provides open access worldwide to Antarctic seismic reflection data for use in cooperative research projects.
cooper / THE ANTOSTRAT LEGACY • 227

World Data Center, other unrestricted data centers, 

and/or the SDLS Web site (http://www.scar-sdls.org).

A key hurdle in organizing the SDLS was how it was 

to be funded. Summarizing from SCAR Report 9 (Cooper 

et al., 1991), SCAR provides no funds for the SDLS. Funding for library branches is the responsibility of the host 

organization. Data are currently sent to branches on CDROM and DVD-ROM; hence, a room and computer system that is supervised by a senior Antarctic researcher (to 

ensure SDLS guidelines are followed) is sufficient. Funds 

for the data standardization and preparation of the CDs 

and DVDs containing the MCS data are the responsibility of the data collector, via National Antarctic Programs 

and/or institutional funds. The funds are submitted to 

the group producing the CDs and DVDs when the MCS 

data are submitted. Currently, the CDs and DVDs are 

produced by the Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia e di 

Geofisica Sperimentale (OGS) in Trieste, Italy. Oversight 

and management of the SDLS is done by a three-member 

executive committee, currently with two members at the 

U.S. Geological Survey and one member at OGS.

Achievements in Transparency and Collaboration

The implementation of the SDLS under ANTOSTRAT 

purview has provided an acceptable and rational mechanism for graduated open access to seismic data (Figure 4) 

and has removed the secrecy of data collection for mineral 

exploration. The eventual use of MCS data is not guided 

by SDLS guidelines. Yet the SDLS has, since 1991 (i.e., 

for 19 years as of the time of this report), facilitated and 

promoted a culture of geoscience collaboration on largescale (i.e., more than 10 countries) international projects 

in Antarctica’s offshore regions, projects that would not 

otherwise be possible.

The SDLS has further helped encourage a greater willingness to cooperate in sharing of expensive and difficultto-collect MCS data. The reality is, however, that each 

organization’s practice in their data submissions to the 

SDLS is influenced by many factors, including funds available to submit data, national agency policies, protecting 

students and others undertaking research projects, and 

incomplete data processing. Hence, data submissions are 

frequently behind the SDLS schedule and vary between 

countries. Patience and persistence has been required to 

achieve the SDLS-stipulated and Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM)-approved data submissions. 

Nevertheless, over the years, the SDLS, initially under 

ANTOSTRAT and more recently under the Antarctic 

Climate Evolution program (ACE), has gradually incorporated about 275,000 km of MCS data, which is 85% of the 

MCS data due at the SDLS and 79% of all data collected 

(Figure 2B). A majority of those data are older than 8 years 

and are therefore openly accessible (Cooper et al., 2009).

The SDLS, like the Antarctic Treaty, is a dynamic 

body that requires constant attention and participation 

of the science community for its success, and to achieve 

this, the SDLS holds yearly to biyearly workshops. The 

SDLS now has 13 branches in 11 countries (http://www

.scar-sdls.org).

ANTOSTRAT: LATER YEARS 

AND SUCCESSES

The history of ANTOSTRAT and its principal research 

findings (see Cooper et al., 2008) would not be complete 

without listing some of the successes achieved under its two 

principal tenets of science collaboration and open access to 

data. The ANTOSTRAT project has spawned and helped 

a generation of young researchers to learn how science is 

accomplished in Antarctica, under SCAR and the Antarctic 

Treaty, and to promote their science and the greater collaborative interests within the science community. It has also 

inspired and promoted a generation of major offshore Antarctic drilling projects and currently, under ACE, a project 

to create circum-Antarctic stratigraphic and paleobathymetry maps for climate history. Scientists working under 

ANTOSTRAT collaborations have

•	 published hundreds of individual research papers (see 

the 54-page bibliography in Cooper et al. [2008]);

•	 held numerous international ANTOSTRAT symposia 

and workshops to disseminate research results and 

SDLS workshops to assess SDLS operations and plans;

•	 compiled and published several geoscience map atlases of offshore regions based on multinational data 

sets from areas around Antarctica;

•	 promoted, designed, and conducted many offshore 

drilling operations for climate history (e.g., Ocean 

Drilling Project Legs 178, 188, and 318 (2010), Cape 

Roberts Project drilling [http://www.victoria.ac.nz/

geo/croberts/], and others);

•	 submitted to the SDLS about 275,000 km of MCS 

data estimated at more than $300 million to collect 

and process; and

•	 carried the valued tenets of ANTOSTRAT into the 

next generation as significant elements in the ACE 

program (Florindo and Siegert, 2008; ACE, 2010).
228 • science diplomacy

ANTOSTRAT was one of many successful long-term 

international science projects under the leadership of 

SCAR. Unlike all other geoscience projects, ANTOSTRAT 

was directly linked to the Antarctic Treaty System, a link 

that has continued, now under ACE, for 19 years, via the 

SDLS and ATCM Recommendation XVI-12. In a small 

way, ANTOSTRAT and the SDLS helped carry the treaty 

through one of its most challenging periods during the 

search for a solution to the Antarctic minerals exploration 

problem.

As with all dynamic institutions, the continuing success of the SDLS relies on the proactive determinations of 

its constituents, the scientists and their national Antarctic 

programs, to keep it vibrant with their creative ideas, active science participation, and funding for data submissions. We see long-term value for these endeavors and urge 

continued support of the SDLS.

ANTOSTRAT: FUTURE ANALOGS

Can ANTOSTRAT, with its successes in facilitating 

international collaboration and open access to valuable 

data for marine geologic studies of the Antarctic continental margin, be adopted as a template for studies of other 

continental margins with potential mineral resources and 

inherent scientific value in paleoenvironment and climate 

histories? As an example, could the ANTOSTRAT template 

be applied in the other polar region, the Arctic?

The Arctic Ocean and its continental margin is an 

area of great international and economic interest, but 

there is yet no established guiding treaty for the region as 

there is for Antarctica. With regard to mineral resources 

and geoscience research (i.e., ANTOSTRAT analog), the 

Arctic region is now governed by laws of the encircling 

nations and further subject to the tenets of the United 

Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea. Yet these 

laws and guidelines do not promote or achieve the greater 

goal of open access to data to facilitate scientific studies of benefit to all. Although large geoscience data sets, 

including a growing amount of seismic reflection data 

(e.g., Kristofferson and Mikkelsen, 2004), already exist 

for the Arctic Ocean region and many of these have been 

published, there are still many such data sets that are not 

yet openly accessible to the international science community. Furthermore, there is currently no internationally 

adopted mechanism by which future data sets would be 

made openly accessible.

In the Arctic example, as in other regions of international interest, adopting the straightforward tenets of 

ANTOSTRAT (and the SDLS) could facilitate greater geopolitical harmony by promoting scientific research over 

national and commercial interests. Such research is needed 

to answer fundamental questions about Earth processes 

that are key to our survival.

Acknowledgments

We thank the editors for the invitation to relate the 

ANTOSTRAT success story, one in which the real “heroes” 

to be thanked are the hundreds of geoscience investigators 

and managers from research institutions in more than 20 

countries, people whose dedicated collaborations within 

SCAR and under treaty guidelines provide a role model 

for Antarctic science endeavors. We thank Jerry Mullins 

and Ginger Barth for their helpful reviews.

Expanded Author Information

Alan Cooper (emeritus), U.S. Geological Survey, 345 

Middlefield Road, Menlo Park, California 94301, USA, 

and Department of Geological and Environmental Sciences, Stanford University, Stanford, California 94306, 

USA. Peter Barker (retired), British Antarctic Survey, 

Cambridge, UK, and Earth and Environmental Sciences, 

University of Birmingham, Birmingham B15 2TT, UK. 

Peter Barrett, Antarctic Research Centre and New Zealand Climate Change Research Institute, Victoria University of Wellington, Kelburn Parade, Wellington 6012, 

New Zealand. John Behrendt, Institute of Arctic and 

Alpine Research, University of Colorado, Boulder, Colorado 80309, USA, and (emeritus) U.S. Geological Survey, 

Federal Center, Denver, Colorado 80225, USA. Giuliano 

Brancolini (retired), Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia 

e di Geofisica Sperimentale, Borgo Grotta Gigante 42/c, 

I-34010 Sgonico, Trieste, Italy. Jonathan Childs, U.S. 

Geological Survey, 345 Middlefield Road, Menlo Park, 

California 94301, USA. Carlota Escutia, Instituto Andaluz de Ciencias de la Tierra, Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas–Universidad de Granada, Campus 

de Fuentenueva s/n, E-18002 Granada, Spain. Wilfried 

Jokat, Alfred Wegener Institute, Am Handelshafen 12, 

D-27570 Bremerhaven, Germany. Yngve Kristoffersen, 

Department of Earth Science, University of Bergen, Allegaten 41, N-5007 Bergen, Norway. German Leitchenkov, 

Research Institute for Geology and Mineral Resources 

of the World Ocean, VNIIOkeangeologia, 1 Angliysky 

Avenue, 190 121 St. Petersburg, Russia. Howard Stagg 

(retired), Geoscience Australia, GPO Box 378, ACT 

2609, Australia. Manabu Tanahashi, Geological Survey 
cooper / THE ANTOSTRAT LEGACY • 229

of Japan, AIST C-7, Tsukuba 305-8567, Japan. Nigel 

Wardell, Istituto Nazionale di Oceanografia e di Geofisica 

Sperimentale, Borgo Grotta Gigante 42/c, I-34010 Sgonico, Trieste, Italy. Peter Webb, School of Earth Sciences, 

Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio 43210, USA. 

Correspondence: acooper@usgs.gov; akcooper@pacbell

.net; peter@pnjbarker.co.uk; peter.barrett@vuw.ac.nz; 

john.behrendt@colorado.edu; giuliano.brancolini@libero

.it; jchilds@usgs.gov; cescutia@ugr.es; wilfried.jokat@awi

.de; yngve.kristoffersen@geo.uib.no; german_l@mail.ru; 

hstagg@apex.net.au; tanahashi-m@aist.go.jp; nwardell@

ogs.trieste.it; webb.3@osu.edu.

NOTE

1. The People’s Republic of China was not represented at the workshop because no one was aware that they had collected MCS data in 

1990–1991 until they reported this fact at ATCM XVI.

LITERATURE CITED

ACE. 2010. Antarctic Climate Evolution. http://www.csam.montclair

.edu/earth/eesweb/scar_ace/ (accessed January 2010).

Antarctic Treaty System. 1991. Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty. http://www.antarctica.ac.uk/about_

antarctica/geopolitical/treaty/update_1991.php (accessed January 

2010).

Behrendt, J. C., ed. 1983. Petroleum and Mineral Resources of Antarctica. U.S. Geological Survey Circular 909. Reston, Va.: U.S. Geological Survey.

———. 1990. “Recent Geophysical and Geological Research in Antarctica Related to the Assessment of Petroleum Resources and Potential Environmental Hazards to Their Development.” In Mineral 

Resources Potential of Antarctica, ed. J. F. Splettstoesser and G.A. 

Dreschhoff, pp. 163–174. Antarctic Research Series, No. 51. Washington, D.C.: American Geophysical Union.

Childs, J. R., R. W. Sliter, and A. K. Cooper. 1994. A Progress Report 

on the Antarctic Seismic Data Library System for Cooperative Research (SDLS). Terra Antarctica, 1(2):243–246.

Cooper, A. K., and the ANTOSTRAT Steering Committee. 1991. A 

SCAR Seismic Data Library System for Cooperative Research 

(SDLS): Summary Report of the International Workshop on Antarctic Seismic Data Oslo, Norway, April 11–15, 1991. SCAR Report 

9. Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research. http://www.scar.org/

publications/reports/9/#summary1 (accessed January 2010)

Cooper, A. K., P. Barrett, R. DeConto, R. Dunbar, C. Escutia, M. Siegert, 

N. Wardell, and J. Childs. 2009. Harmonies of Ice and Past Climate 

Change: Antarctic Paleoclimate, SCAR and Treaty Successes, Abs., 

Abstract Book for Antarctic Treaty Summit, p.45.

Cooper, A. K., G. Brancolini, C. Escutia, Y. Kristoffersen, R. Larter, 

G. Leitchenkov, P. O’Brien, and W. Jokat. 2008. “Cenozoic Climate History from Seismic-Reflection and Drilling Studies on the 

Antarctic Continental Margin.” In Antarctic Climate Evolution, ed. 

F. Florindo and M. Siegert, pp. 115–228. Developments in Earth 

and Environmental Sciences, No. 8. Amsterdam: Elsevier.

Cooper, A. K., and P. N. Webb, eds. 1990, International Workshop on 

Antarctic Offshore Acoustic Stratigraphy (ANTOSTRAT): Overview and Extended Abstracts, Pacific Grove, California, June 1990. 

U.S. Geological Survey Open-File Report 90-309. Menlo Park, 

Calif.: U.S. Geological Survey.

———. 1992. “International Offshore Studies on Antarctic Cenozoic 

History, Glaciation and Sea-Level Change: The ANTOSTRAT Project.” In Recent Progress in Antarctic Earth Science, ed. Y. Yoshida, 

pp. 655–659. Tokyo: Terra Scientific Publishing Company.

Florindo, F., and M. Siegert, eds. 2008. Antarctic Climate Evolution. 

Developments in Earth and Environmental Sciences, No. 8. Amsterdam: Elsevier.

Kristofferson, Y., and N. Mikkelsen, eds. 2004. Scientific Drilling in the 

Arctic Ocean and the Site Survey Challenge: Tectonic, Paleoceanographic and Climatic Evolution of the Polar Basin. JEODI Workshop, 

Copenhagen, 2003. Geological Survey of Denmark and Greenland, 

Special Publication. Copenhagen: Geological Survey of Denmark and 

Greenland. http://www.geus.dk/program-areas/nature-environment/

international/reports/geus_special_publ_nov_2004.pdf (accessed 

January 2010).

Splettstoesser, J. F., and G. A. Dreschhoff, eds. 1990. Mineral Resources 

Potential of Antarctica. Antarctic Research Series, No. 51. Washington, D.C.: American Geophysical Union.

INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty of 1959 built on the scientific successes of the International Geophysical Year (IGY) and proposed that the Antarctic Treaty area 

would be used for peaceful purposes only and for scientific cooperation (Antarctic Treaty, Articles I, paragraph 1, and II). The Antarctic Treaty did not, 

however, specify how such objectives would be met, except in its Article IX, 

paragraph 2, where it provides an example of activity that could represent substantial scientific research activity in Antarctica. The example, as we all know, 

has come to be interpreted as meaning that substantial scientific research activity of a party to the Antarctic Treaty area can be demonstrated by the country 

establishing a scientific research station there.

This is exactly what has happened since 1959. As participating countries 

in the Antarctic Treaty System grew from the initial 12 original signatories to 

the Antarctic Treaty to the present-day membership of 48 parties, the Antarctic 

Treaty Consultative countries have, individually, established approximately 65 

research stations in the Antarctic Treaty area.

Over the course of the 50 years since IGY, many things have changed in regard to the Antarctic, but a number of things have also remained the same. For 

example, it was clear from the experiences of countries involved in the IGY that 

organizing scientific expeditions to Antarctica was an expensive and complex 

activity. This is still the case today.

What has changed is that then, in order to facilitate the science of the IGY, 

many countries relied at least in part on assistance from their military, who 

alone had aircraft and logistics experience and capability to transport people 

and their equipment to and from the Antarctic. They also often possessed the 

necessary engineering skills that were essential in building Antarctic stations and 

required infrastructure. This aspect of Antarctic activity has changed. Although 

some national Antarctic programs continue to operate in partnership with their 

military organizations, many do not, opting to develop the necessary logistics 

and engineering capabilities within their National Antarctic Programs.

In 1958, the Scientific Committee for Antarctic Research (SCAR) was established to “further international organization of scientific activity in Antarctica.”1

The Role of the Council of Managers 

of National Antarctic Programs

José Retamales and Michelle Rogan-Finnemore

José Retamales, Instituto Antártico Chileno 

and Council of Managers of National Antarctic 

Programs, Plaza Munoz Gamero 1055, Punta 

Arenas, Chile. Michelle Rogan-Finnemore, 

Council of Managers of National Antarctic 

Programs, COMNAP Secretariat, Private Bag 

4800, Christchurch, New Zealand. Correspondence: jretamales@inach.cl; michelle.finnemore@

comnap.aq.
232 • science diplomacy

Recognizing that good science required more than good 

scientists, SCAR established within its framework the 

Working Group on Logistics (WGL). The WGL existed 

within SCAR until 1988. During the 1980s, there was significant interest from countries to join the Antarctic Treaty 

System (Figure 1). A total of 18 countries acceded to the 

Antarctic Treaty during that decade.2 Many of these acceding nations were readying themselves to fully participate 

in the Antarctic Treaty System by obtaining Consultative 

State status within that system. Furthermore, in order to 

do this, many were preparing to establish an Antarctic 

research station and/or launch an Antarctic expedition. 

In many cases this was achieved through a national Antarctic program. The managers of these national Antarctic 

programs had much in common, yet they did not have 

a formal mechanism in place for discussions or meetings 

concerning items of common interest. Finally, in 1988, the 

decision to create a separate organization for the managers of national Antarctic programs was implemented. This 

independent organization would be known as the Council 

of Managers of National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP).

Today, 22 years on from its inception, COMNAP remains an independent organization for managers of national Antarctic programs. All 28 current Consultative 

State’s national Antarctic programs are COMNAP members. The COMNAP provides a forum for supporting international collaboration in the Antarctic Treaty System. 

Whereas national Antarctic programs are governmental 

organizations, COMNAP is a nonpolitical organization 

where best practice and advice is shared among members, 

regardless of a country’s political view of the Antarctic.

This chapter explores the role of COMNAP by discussing its inception, the last 20 years, and its recently adopted new objectives. The COMNAP is an organization 

whose members are very diverse organizations but who 

share the common goal of supporting and delivering the 

science that is so fundamental to the success of the Antarctic Treaty.

THE BIRTH OF COMNAP

Referring to the managers of National Antarctic Programs, Al Fowler, the first executive secretary of COMNAP, 

noted “it is surprising that these particular individuals had 

never, prior to 1986, organized themselves into an appropriate regular forum for discussion of their common interests.”3

 Many of the issues that were the responsibility 

of the managers of national Antarctic programs had been 

formally discussed within the confines of SCAR. From 

1972 to 1987 the SCAR WGL met on a regular basis. But, 

by 1986, there were calls from national Antarctic program 

managers for their own separate forum for regular and 

direct formal contact. Discussion of such a forum took 

FIGURE 1. Chart showing the number of countries that are signatories to the Antarctic Treaty, 

cumulative by decade. It also shows the number of countries who have obtained Consultative State 

status over the years.
RETAMALES / ROLE OF COMNAP • 233

place over several years. By 1987, terms of reference for 

the meetings of managers of national Antarctic programs 

were created and agreed to by the then 22 managers of 

national Antarctic programs that were in existence. The 

COMNAP was formally created on 15 September 1988 

to bring together the officials responsible for carrying out 

national activity in the Antarctic on behalf of their governments, all of them parties to the Antarctic Treaty.

The Standing Committee on Antarctic Logistics and 

Operations (SCALOP) was also created at that time to replace the WGL. The SCALOP would be composed of one 

member from each country as nominated by the respective 

manager of a national Antarctic program and would usually be the program’s logistics and operations person. The 

SCALOP remained in existence until 2008, when COMNAP restructured its organization. Even though a formal 

standing committee no longer exists, discussions on logistics and operations still take place and are still important 

aspects of COMNAP that are now considered by a number of Expert Groups.

COMNAP 1988–2008

Two of the topics that preoccupied the managers of 

national Antarctic programs in 1988 were air operations 

and telecommunications. They are topics that are still of 

concern to COMNAP members today. Matters such as 

these generally became the subject of consideration by 

SCALOP until it was formally disbanded by COMNAP 

at its Annual General Meeting (AGM) XX in 2008 in St. 

Petersburg, Russia. Over the course of its 20 years of existence SCALOP convened 10 symposia that provided an 

opportunity for members and others to present, orally and 

via posters, information on a range of topics broadly related to logistics and operations in Antarctica. The topics 

included innovation, infrastructure and logistics, human 

resource management, transportation, environmental issues, emergency response, and medical concerns (Figure 

2). In addition to the opportunity these symposia provided to those able to attend in person, another result is 

the published volumes of proceedings from each of these 

events, which, taken together, provide a valuable source of 

information on these topics for the future and provide an 

insight into the evolution of national Antarctic program 

activity over the past 20 years.

In 1991 at the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting 

(ATCM) XVI in Bonn, Germany, COMNAP was granted 

observer status, thereby joining only SCAR and the Commission of the Convention on Antarctic Marine Living 

Resources (CCAMLR) with this status at ATCMs. Having 

observer status is important, given that only formally designated observer organizations and the Consultative Parties 

to the Antarctic Treaty may prepare and present working 

papers at the annual ATCMs. Thus, COMNAP was given 

the ability to influence the political side of the system by 

delivering working papers at meetings that included recommendations to Antarctic Treaty Parties. In the 20 year 

period from 1988 to 2008, COMNAP prepared and presented a total of 18 working papers and almost 50 information papers, covering a range of topics from education and 

training to contingency planning and waste management.

The COMNAP also responds to requests from the 

ATCM. This is especially evident in the number of recommendations and measures of an operational nature which 

have requested COMNAP action or response that have 

been adopted by the ATCM over the past two decades. 

FIGURE 2. An example of outreach material developed by 

COMNAP in 2006.
234 • science diplomacy

The recommendations categorized as having an operational nature currently number 47.4

 Many of these are no 

longer valid given there have been significant changes to 

the operation environment and capabilities in Antarctica. 

Some of these recommendations required COMNAP to 

prepare a product or tool as guidance on matters or in 

support of the information exchange policy of the Antarctic Treaty System. Two such tools are the Antarctic 

Telecommunications Operational Manual (ATOM)5 and 

the Antarctic Flight Information Manual (AFIM),6 both of 

which remain in use, are updated on a regular basis, and 

are distributed widely.

For the 20th anniversary of the establishment of 

COMNAP, the members agreed to a proposal prepared 

by the executive committee to reconsider the role and purpose of COMNAP and to refocus much of COMNAP’s 

efforts on managing the support of science. The change 

was a reflection of the diversity amongst the role of the 

managers of national Antarctic programs, most of whom 

are now assisted by a logistic manager who is in charge of 

many of the operational areas that were the previous focus 

of the SCAR WGL and SCALOP.

THE ROLE OF COMNAP TODAY

The council is still the primary forum for managers 

of national Antarctic programs. However, the purpose of 

COMNAP has evolved, reflecting the growing responsibilities of managers of national Antarctic programs. For 

example, many of the managers are involved in or often 

lead the development of their countries’ Antarctic science 

strategy. More often than not, the national Antarctic program manager is responsible for the preparation and defense of their countries’ Antarctic budget. The nature of 

national Antarctic program activity in Antarctica means 

that planning often takes place years before the actual season that is being planned. This requires not only an understanding of the national policy and strategy regarding 

Antarctica but also an understanding of the international 

considerations and an understanding of the science that 

is being proposed. So although there is often the misconception that managers are solely concerned with logistics, 

many of the managers never deal directly with logistics 

problems but, of course, need the ability to understand 

the requirements of logistics and operations since logistics and operations are what physically allow the delivery 

of scientific observations and results from Antarctica and 

international cooperation in scientific investigation there.

Even the COMNAP of 1988 recognized these as “matters of top priority and greatest management concern,” 

listing the “establishment of scientific priorities and long 

term scientific goals” as its number one objective on the 

list from inaugural COMNAP discussions in 1987.7

The purpose of COMNAP as stated in its present constitution is to develop and promote best practices in managing the support of scientific research in Antarctica. The 

COMNAP achieves this purpose by

•	 serving as a forum to improve effectiveness of activities in an environmentally responsible manner;

•	 facilitating and promoting international partnerships;

•	 providing opportunities and systems for information 

exchange; and

•	 providing the Antarctic Treaty System with objective, 

practical, technical, and nonpolitical advice drawn from 

the national Antarctic programs’ pool of expertise.

This is much broader than the role that the SCAR 

WGL and SCALOP played within the Antarctic Treaty 

System. Yet the misconception that COMNAP is only 

about logistics persists. The managers of national Antarctic programs control more than the logistics of their 

respective programs.

Managers of national Antarctic programs organize 

and fund the support to research (scientific and wider) 

that has been evaluated and approved at a national level, 

usually through a peer-review process, on the basis of the 

quality of the research and, of course, what they can actually physically support. Therefore, the managers are not 

just organizing support.

At the national level, the managers of national Antarctic programs are part of the strategic decision-making 

process about which Antarctic projects that will actually 

be supported. They are responsible for implementing their 

national scientific policies in Antarctica, and also, at the 

international level, they are the officers responsible for 

promoting and facilitating international partnerships in 

the spirit of the Antarctic Treaty, enabling scientists to 

fully participate and operate in the Antarctic as, when, 

and where their research requires.

The COMNAP is the organization that brings together 

national Antarctic programs. However, like the managers 

themselves, national Antarctic programs are diverse organizations with national reporting lines that vary, usually 

across a range of government ministries and departments. 

The physical assets of the 28 national Antarctic programs 

represented by COMNAP vary considerably as well. These 

assets include a range of aircraft, over 40 vessels, around 

30 Antarctic airfields, over 37 year-round stations, equipment that sustains telecommunications and IT capabilities 

around the continent, and equipment required in support 
RETAMALES / ROLE OF COMNAP • 235

of deep field operations. Human capacity involves more 

than 1,100 people in the Antarctic in winter time and over 

4,000 in summer time. These people, scientists and support staff, are themselves supported by a network of highly 

skilled people based in national Antarctic programs’ home 

countries. In some cases the network includes support from 

military agencies and military personnel. In other cases, the 

network includes contracts with and support from nongovernmental organizations, charitable foundations, and 

commercial operators.

The roles that COMNAP plays and the tasks it undertakes reflect the diverse nature of its membership. Examples of the diversity of managers’ work include

•	 reviewing scientific proposals and being part of the 

decision-making process of which projects should get 

approved every year;

•	 allocating funds for every scientific project;

•	 providing logistics in support of scientific research 

(requires expertise in management, field operations, 

transport, etc.);

•	 support in the event of an incident/accident involving 

human life (search and rescue);

•	 protecting the environment, which requires expertise 

in environmental management practices and an understanding of the legal obligations within the Antarctic Treaty System;

•	 outreach and education as it is often the national Antarctic program personnel who are requested to inform 

the media of issues related to Antarctica, prepare information for schools, and provide public presentations and displays; and

•	 data management and coordination (scientific data 

and other data related to more technical issues and 

information on vessels and stations).

The COMNAP’s objectives to serve as a forum to support best practices and facilitate international partnerships 

stretch across all these categories.

Increasingly, regional, as opposed to bilateral, alliances are developing. Two examples are the Dronning 

Maud Land Air Network (DROMLAN) and the coordination of science in King George Island (Figure 3).

The DROMLAN air network facilitates communication and the transportation of scientists and equipment between Cape Town and Dronning Maud Land and between 

FIGURE 3. Researchers on the Brazil-Chile–U.S. Climate of Antarctica and South America Deep Ice Core Drilling 

in the Antarctic Peninsula (CASA) project.
236 • science diplomacy

the scientific stations and field locations within Dronning 

Maud Land. Formally established as an international project at the XIV COMNAP Meeting in Shanghai during July 

2002, it is supported by a consortium of the 11 national 

programs that have stations or operations in Dronning 

Maud Land. The network connects the 3,000 m ice runway at Novo Air Base, close to the Russian Novolazarevskaya Station, to Cape Town International Airport by an 

intercontinental flight. The Novo runway acts as a hub 

from which feeder flights by ski-equipped aircraft can connect to other stations and field locations within Dronning 

Maud Land. The DROMLAN is available to any member organization of COMNAP and any SCAR country for 

science-related activities, including logistics. The DROMLAN cooperation includes maintaining, improving, and 

operating two airfields in Dronning Maud Land close to 

the Novolazarevskaya (Russia) and Troll (Norway) stations for intercontinental flights from Cape Town; organizing intercontinental flights with appropriate aircraft to 

transport personnel and cargo between Cape Town and 

the airfields at Novolazarevskaya and Troll; organizing 

connecting flights with small ski-equipped aircraft to all 

stations and field destinations in Dronning Maud Land, 

including further options such as Vostok, South Pole, and 

the stations of the East Antarctic coastal region; and organizing the necessary support services, such as weather 

forecasting, provision of fuel, and accommodation at stations in Dronning Maud Land.

The second example, the King George Island project,8

involves 10 countries and the collection and analysis of 

information from each of those countries regarding their 

activities on King George Island. The goal is to better 

coordinate science and logistics activities on the island 

in order to reduce duplication of activities. The project 

establishes a database that is simply a tool that includes 

information on research projects proposed, locations of 

each project, and principle investigators and their contact 

details. Geographic coordinates for each entry are also included so that the data and information can be analyzed 

via a GIS interface. This is a new project agreed to at the 

2009 COMNAP AGM in Punta Arenas, Chile. Such a tool 

relies on the goodwill of the staff of national Antarctic 

programs, who will be responsible for input of data and 

information in a timely manner.

SCIENCE–POLICY INTERACTIONS

Aspects of all of these programs are of particular interest as we focus on science-policy interactions. Those 

aspects are as follows.

•	 Improving the effectiveness of national activities leads 

to increased efficiencies, so that we can carry out more 

science within the budget we get from our governments.

•	 More international collaboration means more and 

even better science with the same global budget and 

less duplication of efforts, that is, similar science output with fewer projects in the field.

•	 The nature of Antarctic science has evolved from cartographers drawing maps to interdisciplinary research 

activities that require expertise in foreword planning 

of complicated Antarctic research programs.9

•	 The decision-making process for the science to be supported has changed enormously in the last 50 years. 

Now the standard is to have a competitive peer-review 

system in which the managers and staff of national 

Antarctic programs are usually involved.

The COMNAP is in the process of becoming a 

project-oriented organization, more focused and strategic, concentrating on what COMNAP members, policy 

makers, and even the global general public might expect 

from such an organization. Presently, the development of a 

five-year work plan is underway. The work plan attempts 

to consider the national Antarctic program priorities in 

the near future and also addresses the key issues that are 

being considered in both the ATCM and at the Committee 

for Environmental Protection (CEP). Problems such as the 

prevention of the introduction of nonnative species into 

the Antarctic region require a collective response from the 

various organizations within the Antarctic Treaty System.

Antarctic science is generally more expensive than science in other parts of the world. Undoubtedly, all highquality science projects deserve to be supported, but 

neither the money nor the infrastructure will always be 

available to support them as costs increase. Therefore, unless we can successfully communicate the value of Antarctic science to policy makers and to the general public, we 

may all have to cancel or defer some important projects 

until we can dedicate to them some of the limited time 

and money available. However, COMNAP can assist in 

this task by looking at what resources can be pooled and/

or shared with others and looking at projects to see if 

they can be modified or associated with similar projects in 

other countries. The COMNAP has recognized a greater 

need for collaborative support.

DEVELOPING STRATEGIC PARTNERSHIPS

Perhaps because of the nature of COMNAP’s birth, 

COMNAP has historically been an organization that has 
RETAMALES / ROLE OF COMNAP • 237

been inward looking, providing its membership with the 

framework they need to develop their own, usually bilateral, partnerships but shying away from the formal development of partnerships with other Antarctic organizations. 

It has also generally been slow to develop and promote 

strategic relationships with external organizations with 

goals that also support the spirit of the Antarctic Treaty 

System or that perform similar roles in the Arctic.

This behavior is changing, with COMNAP actively 

looking to strengthen its strategic partnerships with other 

Antarctic Treaty System bodies. Those strategic partnerships include SCAR, the CEP, and the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators. This change is 

a reflection of the importance of identifying issues that 

require common action such as outreach, education, capacity building, data management, sustainability, and 

supporting the goals of peaceful use of and scientific cooperation in Antarctica.

COMNAP’s CONTRIBUTION TO THE 

SCIENCE–POLICY INTERFACE

Today, more than ever, COMNAP can be seen to be of 

value given the complex nature of Antarctic science questions being posed. Science programs often address key research questions, such as how the Antarctic system as a 

whole is responding to change. Such complex queries are 

increasingly becoming the norm. Complex science often 

requires multidisciplinary, multinational science teams 

and often demands reaching into new parts of the Antarctic, where those parts could be new surface, subsurface, 

atmosphere, or marine depths. The physical extent of Antarctic science is further than was ever previously possible.

Fifty years ago, Antarctic science was Antarctic presence. Although there is no denying that this is still the case, 

the ability for a nation to engage in Antarctic research activities is much more than that.

The COMNAP, as an organization, assists its members 

to successfully deliver their national Antarctic research programs and projects. Such programs are, generally, becoming 

bigger, are reaching out into previously unexplored areas of 

the Antarctic region (including into subglacial aquatic environments), and usually involve multinational and often 

interdisciplinary teams of researchers, support staff, IT/

communications experts, health and safety practitioners, environmental consultants, outreach staff, and medical staff.

Member national Antarctic programs and COMNAP, 

with their wealth of firsthand Antarctic expertise, are well 

placed to face the Antarctic challenges of the future as they 

have in the past. National Antarctic programs discovered 

the ozone hole over Antarctica,10 have drilled for the oldest 

ice core ever extracted,11 have gathered data on the Census of Antarctic Marine Life covering millions of nautical miles,12 and have plans to explore Antarctic subglacial 

lakes.13 The diversity of activity reflects the diversity of the 

science questions that require exploration and support.

It seems the challenges of isolation and extreme environmental conditions are no longer an adequate barrier 

to the Antarctic region. We continue to see an increase 

in human activity in the Antarctic, whether from tourists, 

fishing industry personnel, or members of national Antarctic programs. Recognizing and responding to the increase 

is important not only from an environmental perspective 

but from the need to protect human life in the Antarctic.

The COMNAP, as one of its recent projects, convened 

two workshops on improving cooperation in regards to 

search and rescue (SAR) in the Antarctic. Even collectively, our capacity to respond to a large-scale accident 

or incident in the Antarctic region, on land and in the 

maritime environment, is extremely limited. Five marine 

rescue coordination centers, one each based in Australia, 

Argentina, Chile, New Zealand, and South Africa, have 

International Maritime Organization (IMO) responsibility 

for SAR activities over different areas of the marine area 

south of 60°S latitude (Figure 4).

However, even given that those SAR authorities had responsibility for certain parts of the maritime area around 

Antarctica, there was the perception that such authorities 

did little in the way of developing strategic relationships 

among themselves and even less between themselves and national Antarctic programs who, along with the fishing and 

tourist industry, were the primary operators in the waters.

The COMNAP presented the results of its most recent 

workshop on Antarctic search and rescue to the Antarctic 

Treaty Meeting of Experts on the Management of Shipborne Tourism in the Antarctic Treaty Area (ATME, December 2009, Wellington, New Zealand) and to ATCM 

XXXIII (2010, Punta del Este, Uruguay) in support of the 

COMNAP objective to provide practical and nonpolitical 

advice to the Antarctic Treaty System. This workshop is 

in addition to the Ship Position Reporting System (SPRS) 

that COMNAP developed and introduced. It is simply another example of the range of issues that COMNAP has 

played a lead role in for the development of guidance and 

policy on Antarctic issues and concerns.

CONCLUSION

Demonstrating a country’s interest in Antarctica 

has become the role assigned to the national Antarctic 
238 • science diplomacy

programs of each Antarctic Treaty Consultative State. 

Many of these national Antarctic programs are broader 

than the scientific mandates that were the principle Consultative States when the Antarctic Treaty first entered 

into force. National Antarctic programs often contribute 

to outreach and education activities, provide input into 

science strategies and the funding that supports such strategic direction, contribute significantly to the environmental management of the area, and are often the greatest 

source of information on how the Antarctic is responding 

to change since their staff spend more time in the Antarctic region than anyone else does. This fundamental understanding of Antarctica from a practical and nonpolitical 

perspective will continue to be a strength of national Antarctic programs individually and a strength of COMNAP 

as an assembly of those programs. It is an understanding 

that is required of an area currently devoted to peaceful 

and scientific use and will also be of value in the future 

should the values we associate with the area be changed.

NOTES

1. See “History of the Institutionalisation of Antarctic Research,” 

www.scar.org/about/history/, accessed May 2010.

2. A. N. Fowler, COMNAP: The National Managers in Antarctica 

(Baltimore, Md.: American Literary Press, 2000), p. 29.

FIGURE 4. Map developed by COMNAP to assist rescue centers with search and rescue operations in the region.
RETAMALES / ROLE OF COMNAP • 239

3. Fowler, COMNAP, p. 8.

4. Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, “Review of the Status of ATCM 

Recommendations on Operational Matters,” ATCM XXXIII Paper SP06 

(Buenos Aires: Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, 2010).

5. ATCM Recommendation X-3 (1977) “Improvement of Telecommunications in the Antarctic.” Note that the original request was for 

SCAR action since COMNAP did not exist in 1977. The COMNAP now 

takes responsibility for this publication.

6. ATCM Recommendation XV-20 (1989) “Air Safety in Antarctica.”

7. Fowler, COMNAP, p. 44.

8. The working title of this project is Antarctic Peninsula Advanced 

Science Information System (APASI).

9. Antarctica’s Gamburtsev Province Project (AGAP), Antarctic 

Drilling Project (ANDRILL), and the European Project for Ice Coring 

in Antarctica (EPICA) are only a few such recent projects. The establishment of multinational research stations in the Antarctic is another 

example of greater international cooperation.

10. See “The Ozone Hole: Science Briefing 2009”, British Antarctic 

Survey, http://www.antarctica.ac.uk/press/journalists/resources/science/

the_ozone_hole_2009.pdf (accessed 22 November 2010).

11. EPICA, 1996–2006, supported by the European Commission 

and national contributions from Belgium, Denmark, France, Germany, 

Italy, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United 

Kingdom.

12. Census of Antarctic Marine Life (CAML), 2006–2009.

13. Including Lake Vostok, Lake Ellsworth, and Whillans Ice Stream 

(Whillans Ice Stream Subglacial Access Research Drilling, WISSARD).

INTRODUCTION

Human activities in Antarctica have notably created a microcosm, a world 

within a world. Enthusiasts from more than 50 countries work in collaboration 

toward common objectives in the fields of science, logistics, tourism, policy, 

and law. Antarctic tourism exemplifies international cooperation, as science did 

beginning with the International Geophysical Year (IGY) of 1957–1958. Cooperation within the tourism industry and interaction with Antarctic Treaty Parties 

has successfully transcended political boundaries. The foresight in the development of the Antarctic Treaty in 1959 and the subsequent Antarctic Treaty 

System (ATS), their recommendations, resolutions, measures, and decisions for 

environmental protection and peaceful usage has shown its value. However, the 

management of tourism has essentially been left to the industry to operate responsibly. The tourism industry, meanwhile, has developed its own standards for 

over 40 years (International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators [IAATO], 

2009, 2010a, 2010b), sometimes working in conjunction with the ATS, though 

more often than not advancing more rapidly because they were directly involved 

in on-site operations and less fettered by the requirements of a wider political 

consensus.

The tour operators, through the IAATO, observed firsthand what policies 

and procedures had to be introduced to protect the integrity of the wilderness 

and physical environment in Antarctica. Through industry interaction with 

the scientific community, protection of Antarctic ecosystems was possible by 

the development of numerous operational procedures to mitigate for potential 

impacts to historic sites, scientific study sites, and flora and fauna even prior 

to the adoption of the Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty in 1991 and subsequent policies linked to it. The IAATO was also 

formed in 1991, and since its inception, the tourism industry has grown. The 

concern toward environmental protection and safety grew in response, and subsequently, the industry developed over 45 voluntary procedures to proactively 

manage the complexities of industry growth, such as mandatory briefing to 

implement ATCM Recommendation XVIII-1 “Guidance for Those Organising 

and Conducting Tourism and Non-Governmental Activities in the Antarctic,” 

International Cooperation and Management 

of Tourism: A World within a World

Denise Landau

Denise Landau, Associates Inc. 25 Dakota 

Meadows Dr. Carbondale, CO 81623 USA. 

Former Executive Director, International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators, iaato@

iaato.org. 
242 • science diplomacy

wildlife watching guidelines; site-specific guidelines; boot, 

clothing, and equipment decontamination guidelines; ship 

scheduling and communication requirements and procedures; emergency contingency planning; and many more 

(IAATO, 2009).

Procedures established for vessel operations through 

the vessels’ flag states, ship classification societies, and 

international bodies such as the International Maritime 

Organization (IMO) have evolved to provide for safe operation of vessels and protection of human life in polar 

waters. The recent adoption of the Polar Shipping Guidelines by the IMO may also serve to enhance the safety of 

all vessels operating in polar regions. The future success 

of the industry group to effectively manage tourism will 

depend on its vigilance to enforce its own guidelines and 

work in close cooperation with groups such as the IMO 

and the ATS in order to assure that the most effective processes are in place and implemented. Can the industry continue to effectively regulate and manage its own activities 

as it has done in the past and what roles do the Antarctic 

Treaty Parties, national governments, and other regulatory bodies need to undertake in the future?

COOPERATION

Since the early 1960s, an unexpected element of human 

activity has arisen in Antarctica. The founders of the Antarctic Treaty did not anticipate tourism as a likely activity 

in Antarctica, nor could they have foreseen how rapidly it 

would thereafter develop. Upward of 40,000 tourists now 

visit Antarctica each year, compared with a small fraction 

of that number 40 years ago. A single commercial tour 

vessel in the early 1970s, MS Lindblad Explorer, led to the 

development of an industry that presently encompasses 

small, six-person yachts to 3000-passenger-capacity cruise 

ships and numerous aircraft as well as a diversification 

of both ship- and land-based activities, plus kayaking, 

camping, skiing, and climbing. Tour operators, crew, and 

expedition staff work together to operate safe and responsible voyages. Tourism development in the Antarctic and 

subantarctic islands (Landau, 2007) has since led to expeditioners exploring the Arctic, Amazon, and a myriad of 

coastlines worldwide with tourists. Multiple languages are 

spoken on nearly every Antarctic departure. Many of the 

expedition staff have migrated from science, policy, and 

logistics sectors within national program operations to 

extend their Antarctic careers by sharing their knowledge 

with tourists. Scientists, station staff, and accompanying 

research equipment are transported on tourist ships to and 

from the Antarctic. Numerous research projects have been 

initiated by scientists on the basis of their experience with 

tourist ships, and the funding for various environmental 

projects has come from donations from tour companies, 

suppliers, foundations, and tourists.

REGULATION AND MANAGEMENT

Yet in many ways, regulation of tourism remains an 

enormous challenge. Because the Antarctic tourism industry has established selected standards and procedures ahead 

of government regulation, a quandary has developed for 

regulators. Antarctic Treaty Parties (ATPS) spend considerable time in discussions involving tourism practices and 

whether they are acceptable. The ATPS are the decision 

makers for Antarctica, but time-consuming hurdles of discussion and mutual agreement become obstacles because 

of the consensus requirement. The consensus process has 

both pros and cons relative to tourism. From the tourism 

standpoint, the operators have steamed ahead at a remarkable pace, developing the noted operational procedures to 

manage tourism. Conversely, the ATPS are lagging behind 

in either adopting the industry standards or creating their 

own because of the difficulty in reaching a consensus on 

whether or not a procedure is effective. In order to match 

the uneven pace of development, it has now reached a 

point where a new way forward could be forged, creating 

an innovative partnership between law, science, and tourism, consistent with the spirit of the Antarctic Treaty. Since 

Antarctica is not owned by any one country, the sheer diversification of countries’ legal processes, tour operators, 

and tourists representing over 60 countries from around 

the world calls for a robust cooperative process to assure 

the long-term protection of Antarctica. The industry group 

IAATO needs to maintain its global outreach program and 

to not be seen as too attached to any one ATP, and the 

ATPs could look more realistically at officially adopting 

important operational procedures to even out the fastpaced guidelines developed by the industry.

The industry believes that tourism has been successfully managed and regulated by voluntary guidelines or 

best practices since the 1960s, well before the formation 

of the IAATO in 1991 (Splettstoesser, 1999, 2000). From 

the point of view of environmental protection, this modus 

operandi is a precarious situation. Is good will enough? 

Laws passed by governments or operational requirements 

set forth by shipping-related organizations such as the 
LANDAU / INTERNATIONAL COOPERATION AND TOURISM • 243

IMO, ship classification societies, ship registries, etc., or 

aviation authorities are more rigorously being considered, 

as tourism numbers and vessel incidents have increased. 

The industry currently has little ability or authority to impose legal restrictions or limit the operations of any company active in Antarctica. Yet it has achieved remarkable 

success in working with industry competitors to develop 

agreed management techniques thus far.

The makeup of the tourism industry has changed dramatically from single-family-owned businesses to large, 

globalized corporations. The strong sense of stewardship 

and environmental protection now relies primarily on the 

expedition staff, whereas in the past it was the policy of 

the company owners, many of whom were also the expedition leaders. Some critics claim that without legal oversight and jurisdiction, the self-regulatory nature of the 

industry must change so that the ATPS can resolve situations by stronger action.

Since 2005, there has been an annual increase in incidents involving tourist vessels in Antarctica. One specific 

incident ignited the interest of the international shipping 

regulators and the ATPs: the sinking of the MS Explorer on 

23 November 2007. The vessel sank in the Bransfield Strait 

40.23 km southeast of King George Island in the Antarctic Peninsula. All 91 passengers, 9 expedition staff, and 54 

crew were safely rescued by another tourist vessel that was 

sailing nearby. There were no human casualties, no major 

injuries, and only one minor injury. The vessel hit ice, resulting in a 3.1 m hole in the hull of the ship (Bureau of 

Maritime Affairs, 2009). This sole example served as a sort 

of wake-up call. The close cooperation within the industry itself, their computerized ship-scheduling program, the 

master contact list of all tourist vessels and air operators, 

and the ability to produce timely information on the vessel’s progress (IAATO, 2009), as well as favorable weather 

averted a disaster. Passengers, crew, and expedition staff 

were rescued from the MS Explorer’s Zodiacs and lifeboats 

and transferred to another tourist vessel, the MV Nordnorge. In addition, the MS Endeavour remained in regular 

contact in case another vessel was required to assist. The 

MV Nordnorge sailed directly to King George Island and 

disembarked all rescued persons from the MS Explorer at 

the Chilean Base Presidente Frei. Airplanes were chartered 

from Uruguay and Chile, and everyone was flown to Punta 

Arenas, Chile, to connect with onward flights home. The 

industry demonstrated that the operating practices that 

IAATO had in place proved to be effective. From the time 

the ship’s captain issued a Mayday call, all vessels operating in Antarctica were on standby and ready to assist. 

The IAATO office personnel kept all its members, vessels, 

governments, stakeholders, and the press from around the 

world advised of developments. Potential environmental 

impacts (e.g., fuel, hardware being washed ashore, etc.) 

were monitored for the remainder of the Antarctic season 

by industry operators. It was a monumental effort by industry and some governments and national program operators. The sinking of the MS Explorer served to illustrate 

the grave importance of the industry group working closely 

together and with the ATPs.

Recently, the IMO and the ATPs have emphasized the 

need for the international acceptance of the Polar Shipping Code, a document that has been in draft form for 

nearly 10 years. The IMO has banned the use of heavy 

fuels in Antarctica, posing challenges to both large cruise 

ships and expedition ships, which prefer to burn the lessexpensive, sulfur-laden heavy fuel. The tourism industry 

has responded by collaborating on a tiered risk assessment approach, intended to provide tour operators with 

a framework for voyage planning and risk assessment and 

also a structure for governments to use in their permitting 

and authorization of tourism activities in Antarctica.

CONCLUSION

The continuing efforts of the tourist industry and the 

ATPs to achieve a high level of protection of the environment, its marine and terrestrial ecosystems, and human 

life in Antarctica have shown success in resolving issues as 

they arise. An acceptable working solution, tourism selfregulation, remains until the ATPs and the industry reach 

a mutual agreement on a process that satisfies both. In 

1959, the signatories of the Antarctic Treaty boldly agreed 

one of the most powerful strategies the world had ever 

seen. As human activities have increased in Antarctica, 

we have reached yet another crossroad. How do we manage the increase of our human footprint in Antarctica? 

Keeping with the spirit of the Antarctic Treaty, a holistic 

approach to the management and regulation of not just 

tourism but all human activities is needed. What better 

gift can we give future generations than new management 

tools to protect one of the greatest marine and terrestrial 

wildernesses on Earth?

LITERATURE CITED

Bureau of Maritime Affairs. 2009. Decision of the Commissioner of 

Maritime Affairs R.L. and the Report of Investigation in the Matter 
244 • science diplomacy

of Sinking of the Passenger Vessel Explorer (O.N. 8495) 23 November 2007 in the Bransfield Strait and South Shetland Islands. 

Monrovia, Liberia.

International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO). 2008. 

Regulation of Antarctic Tourism: A Marine Perspective. ATCM 

XXXI Information Paper IP 83. Providence, R.I.: IAATO. http://

www.iaato.org/info.html (accessed June 2008).

———. 2009. IAATO Field Operations Manual. ATCM XXXII Information Paper IP 87. Providence, R.I.: IAATO. http://www.iaato

.org/info.html (accessed July 2009).

———. 2010a. IAATO Bylaws. http://www.iaato.org/bylaws.html (accessed July 2010).

———. 2010b. Guidelines: Tour Operators. http://www.iaato.org/guide

lines.html (accessed July 1994).

International Maritime Organization (IMO). 2010. Ships Operating 

in Polar Regions. London: IMO. http://www.imo.org/OurWork/

Safety/SafetyTopics/Pages/PolarShippingSafety.aspx (accessed June 

2009).

Landau, D. 2007. Tourism in Polar Regions and the Sub-Antarctic Islands. Papers and Proceedings of the Royal Society of Tasmania, 

141(1):173–179.

Splettstoesser, J. 1999. “Antarctica Tourism: Successful Management of 

a Vulnerable Environment.” In Development of Tourism in Critical Environments, ed. T. V. Singh and S. Singh, pp. 137–148. New 

York: Cognizant Communications Corporation.

———. 2000. IAATO’s Stewardship of the Antarctic Environment. International Journal of Tourism Research, 2(1):47–55.
ABSTRACT. The law and policy framework governing potential ocean disposals in the 

Antarctic is surveyed using two nautical images. First, the “tangle of legal currents” is described with a focus on six global agreements relevant to ocean dumping and the 1991 Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Madrid Protocol). The Madrid 

Protocol strictly controls the disposal of wastes generated in the Antarctic region through 

various removal obligations. Second, the “sea of challenges” surrounding effective control of ocean dumping is highlighted. Those challenges include ensuring full adoption and 

implementation of international agreements relevant to ocean dumping, getting an effective 

governance grip on ocean fertilization projects, and securing strong compliance with the 

two key global agreements targeting ocean dumping, the Convention on the Prevention of 

Marine Pollution by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter, 1972 (London Convention) 

and the 1996 Protocol to the London Convention.

INTRODUCTION

Two nautical images help capture the international governance of potential ocean dumping and ocean fertilization activities in the Antarctic. First is 

“tangled legal currents.” A complex mix of global and regional agreements may 

interact to control ocean disposals in the Southern Ocean. Second is a “sea of 

challenges.” Effective control of ocean dumping faces numerous constraints, including ensuring full adoption and implementation by states of key international 

agreements, getting a firm international grip on ocean fertilization projects, and 

securing compliance with ocean-dumping-related instruments.

A two-part “cruise” follows. The tangle of international agreements addressing ocean dumping is first surveyed, followed by a tour of three major 

challenges being faced in implementation practice. A particular focus is given to 

the law and policy challenges raised by proposed ocean fertilization experiments 

in the Southern Ocean. Does ocean fertilization constitute dumping? What international law and policy responses have occurred? What can be learned from 

a recent ocean fertilization experiment in the Atlantic sector of the Southern 

Ocean, the LOHAFEX experiment1, led by the Alfred Wegener Institute for 

Polar and Marine Research?

Ocean Dumping and Fertilization 

in the Antarctic: Tangled Legal Currents, 

Sea of Challenges

David L. VanderZwaag

David L. VanderZwaag, Schulich School of 

Law, Marine & Environmental, Law Institute, 

Dalhousie University, 6061 University Avenue, 

Halifax, Nova Scotia B3H 4H9, Canada. Correspondence: david.vanderzwaag@dal.ca. This 

chpater attempts to be accurate as of 1 December 

2009.
246 • science diplomacy

TANGLED LEGAL CURRENTS

The tangle of international legal currents relevant to 

potential ocean disposals in the Southern Ocean involves 

six global and two regional agreements. At the global level, 

the 1982 UN Law of the Sea Convention2 might be viewed 

as a major foundational “undercurrent,” and two agreements, the 1972 London (Dumping) Convention3

 and the 

1996 Protocol to the London Convention,4 might be described as the “mainstreams” for ocean dumping control. 

Three other global agreements might be characterized as 

“side currents” as they more tangentally address potential ocean disposals. Those agreements are the Convention 

on Biological Diversity (1992),5 the Basel Convention on 

the Transboundary Movement of Hazardous Wastes and 

Their Disposal (1989),6

 and the Joint Convention on the 

Safety of Spent Fuel Management and on the Safety of 

Radioactive Waste Management (1997).7 Two “regional 

gyres” complete the regulatory current picture, namely, 

the Antarctic Treaty (1959)8 and the Madrid Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (1991).9

A synopsis of these key global and regional agreements 

follows. This paper does not address the regulation of discharges from ships, such as sewage and garbage, covered 

by the International Convention for the Prevention of Pollution from Ships (MARPOL 73/78) (IMO, 2006).

Six Key Global Agreements

The Major “Undercurrent”

The 1982 UN Law of the Sea Convention (LOSC) sets 

out various general marine environmental protection responsibilities of states, e.g., the obligation to protect and 

preserve the marine environment (Article 192) and the 

duty to minimize the release of toxic, harmful, or noxious substances into the marine environment (Article 194, 

paragraph 3(a)). The LOSC also provides environmental 

impact assessment (EIA) requirements such as undertaking EIAs for planned activities under the jurisdiction or 

control of states that may cause substantial pollution or 

significant and harmful changes to the marine environment (Article 206) and reporting of results (Article 205). 

The LOSC specifically targets ocean dumping (Article 

210) by requiring states to adopt national ocean dumping 

laws no less effective than global standards, urging states 

to establish global and regional rules/standards for controlling pollution by dumping and mandating the express 

prior consent of the coastal state for any dumping within 

national zones of jurisdiction

A major potential limitation in the control of potential ocean dumping off the Antarctic continent is the lack 

of generally recognized coastal states with authority to 

legislate and enforce national laws against foreign vessels (Vigni, 2001) that might engage in ocean disposals. A 

sector of the Antarctic remains unclaimed (Watts, 1992). 

The historic territorial claims by seven states (Argentina, 

Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, Norway, and the 

United Kingdom) remain “frozen” pursuant to Article 4 of 

the Antarctic Treaty (Gautier, 1992; Joyner, 1992, 1998), 

and thus, flag state not coastal state jurisdiction stands as 

the prime means of legal control (Zovko, 2007).

“Mainstreams”

The 1972 London Convention represents a permissive 

approach to ocean dumping (VanderZwaag and Daniel, 

2009). Almost anything can be dumped at sea if a permit is 

granted by a state party. General permits for most types of 

waste are covered in Annex III of the convention, which sets 

out various factors decision makers must carefully consider 

before issuing a permit, such as characteristics of the waste 

(e.g., toxicity, persistence, oxygen demand, and nutrients) 

and characteristics of the dumping site and method of deposit (e.g., distance from the coast and resource exploitation areas, dispersal potentialities, and existing pollutant 

loads). General considerations include possible effects on 

marine living resources, possible effects on other uses of 

the sea (such as fishing, shipping, and marine conservation 

areas), and practical availability of alternative land-based 

methods of disposal or treatment. Special permits may be 

granted for Annex II–listed wastes (the “grey list”) which 

include, for example, wastes containing arsenic, chromium, copper, lead, nickel, zinc, cyanides, and fluorides, 

but particular care in disposal must be taken. Only a limited prohibited list of wastes are listed in Annex I where 

ocean dumping is generally not allowed: organohalogen 

compounds, mercury and mercury compounds, cadmium 

and cadmium compounds, persistent plastics, crude oil and 

its wastes, radioactive wastes, biological and chemical warfare materials, industrial waste, and incineration at sea of 

industrial waste and sewage sludge.

The 1996 Protocol to the London Convention shifts 

toward a precautionary approach (VanderZwaag and 

Daniel, 2009). The protocol explicitly recognizes the need 

for a precautionary approach in Article 3, paragraph 1: 

“In implementing this Protocol, Contracting Parties shall 

apply a precautionary approach to environmental protection from dumping of wastes or other matter whereby appropriate preventative measures are taken when there is 
VANDERZWAAG / OCEAN DUMPING AND FERTILIZATION • 247

reason to believe that wastes or other matter introduced 

into the marine environment are likely to cause harm even 

where there is no conclusive evidence to prove a causal 

relation between impacts and their effects.”

The protocol also adopts a “reverse listing” approach 

where listing favours the environment and is precautionary. Nothing can be dumped unless it is listed on a “safe 

list,” i.e., dredged material; sewage sludge; fish wastes; 

vessels and platforms or other man-made structures; inert, 

inorganic geological material; organic materials of natural 

origin; and bulky items primarily comprising iron, steel, 

concrete, and similarly unharmful materials for which 

concern is physical impact (limited to where wastes are 

generated at locations having no practicable access to disposal options other than dumping). Sequestration of carbon dioxide under the seabed has also been added to the 

“safe list” through an amendment adopted 2 November 

2006 and in force 10 February 2007.

Even for wastes on the safe list, Annex 2 of the protocol further encourages a precautionary approach through 

the permitting process (de La Fayette, 1998). The permitting authority is encouraged to require ocean dumping applicants to undertake waste prevention audits, i.e., whether 

waste reduction or prevention at source is feasible, for example, through product reformulation or clean production technologies. If so, applicants should be required to 

formulate a waste prevention strategy, and waste reduction and prevention requirements should be included as 

permit conditions. The permitting authority is obligated to 

refuse issuing a permit if appropriate opportunities exist 

to reuse, recycle, or treat the waste without undue risks 

to human health or the environment or disproportionate 

costs. The permitting authority is also urged to deny an 

ocean dumping permit if an environmental assessment 

does not include adequate information to determine the 

likely effects of the proposed disposal.

“Side Currents”

The 1992 Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), 

although not dealing directly with ocean dumping, might 

be described as “side venue” on various counts. The convention may be relevant to EIA of proposed ocean disposal activities as the convention requires parties to ensure 

their EIA procedures address project impacts on biological 

diversity with a view to avoiding or minimizing significant 

adverse effects (Article 14, paragraph 1(a)). Voluntary 

guidelines on biodiversity-inclusive impact assessment 

have been developed (CBD, 2006), and further guidance 

for the implementation of EIA for activities that may have 

significant impacts on marine biological diversity beyond 

national jurisdiction was provided through an Expert 

Workshop on Scientific and Technical Aspects Relevant to 

EIA in Areas Beyond National Jurisdiction held in November 2009 (CBD, 2009). The convention has also become a 

forum discussing the scientific and governance challenges 

posed by ocean fertilization projects. A Scientific Synthesis 

of the Impacts of Ocean Fertilization on Marine Biodiversity was published in 2009 (Secretariat of the Convention 

on Biological Diversity, 2009), and the Conference of the 

Parties has advocated a precautionary approach be taken 

toward proposed ocean fertilization activities, as discussed 

further below.

The 1989 Basel Convention on the Transboundary 

Movement of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal prohibits the export of hazardous wastes for disposal within 

the area south of 60°S latitude (Article 4, paragraph 6). 

The convention leaves implementation of the prohibition 

to each party through national legislation.

The 1997 Joint Convention on the Safety of Spent 

Nuclear Fuel Management and on the Safety of Radioactive Waste Management represents a parallel current to 

the Basel Convention, but with a focus on preventing the 

disposal of radioactive wastes in the Antarctic. Article 27, 

paragraph 2, of the convention requires contracting parties not to licence the shipment of spent fuel or radioactive 

waste to a destination south of latitude 60°S for storage 

or disposal.

Regional Gyres

The 1959 Antarctic Treaty, which mainly encourages 

scientific cooperation, is relevant to potential ocean dumping in two main ways. Article V prohibits radioactive 

waste disposal in the area south of 60°S latitude. Article 

VII, paragraph 5, requires each contracting party to give 

notice to other contracting parties of all proposed expeditions to and within Antarctica on the part of ships or nationals. This provision could cover future proposed ocean 

disposal activities, such as ocean fertilization, a topic further discussed below.

The 1991 Madrid Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty contains three main “legal 

eddies” relevant to ocean disposal. First, Annex III specifically addresses wastes generated in the Antarctic in 

four main ways (minimization, removal, disposal, and 

planning requirements). The protocol urges minimizing 

the amount of wastes produced in the Antarctic as far 

as practicable (Article 1, paragraph 2). Article 2, paragraph 1, requires the removal of many generated wastes. 
248 • science diplomacy

Generators of many wastes produced after entry into force 

of the annex must remove them from the Antarctic Treaty 

area, e.g., radioactive materials; electrical batteries; fuels; 

wastes with harmful levels of heavy metals or acutely toxic 

compounds; various products that could produce harmful 

emissions if incinerated such as rubber, lubricating oils, 

treated timbers, and polyvinyl chloride materials; plastic 

wastes; and fuel drums and other solid, noncombustible 

wastes (unless greater adverse environmental impacts 

would result than leaving them in their existing locations). 

Article 3, paragraph 1, imposes disposal obligations by incineration for combustible wastes, other than those wastes 

listed in Article 2, paragraph 1 (such as plastics, batteries, 

rubber, and treated timbers), not removed from the Antarctic. Solid residues of incineration also must be removed 

from the treaty area. Sea disposal of sewage and domestic liquid wastes is allowed subject to various conditions 

(Article 5): taking into account the assimilative capacity 

of the receiving environment, locating discharge areas 

where rapid dispersal occurs, and treating large quantities 

of waste (generated in stations having an average weekly 

occupancy over the austral summer of approximately 30 

individuals or more) at least by maceration. The protocol further mandates parties carrying out activities in 

the Antarctic Treaty area to prepare waste management 

plans (Article 8) to be annually reviewed and updated and 

shared with other parties and sent to the Committee for 

Environmental Protection, which may review and offer 

comments (Article 9).

A second eddy is stirred by Article 3 of the protocol, 

which sets out principles to be followed for proposed activities in the Antarctic (which could include ocean disposals). Activities should avoid significant adverse effects on 

air or water quality, avoid further jeopardy to endangered 

or threatened species, and be based on sufficient information for prior environmental impact assessment.

The third eddy is the establishment of three levels of 

EIA for activities in the treaty area (Article 8 and Annex I). 

Those levels are preliminary assessment (if an activity is 

determined to have less than a minor or transitory impact 

it may proceed), initial environmental evaluation (IEE; if 

an activity is determined as likely to have a minor or transitory impact), and comprehensive environmental evaluation (CEE; if an IEE indicates the potential for more than a 

minor or transitory impact or that determination is otherwise made). The draft CEE is subject to review/comment 

through the Committee for Environmental Protection and 

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM). The final 

CEE must address comments received.

SEA OF CHALLENGES

An array of challenges surrounds the governance of 

ocean dumping. Three major challenges are highlighted 

below: ensuring full adaption of key international agreements relevant to ocean dumping, getting a firm legal grip 

on ocean fertilization projects, and securing compliance 

with ocean dumping related treaty obligations. Other 

constraints beyond the scope of this paper but discussed 

elsewhere (VanderZwaag and Daniel, 2009) include keeping up with the numerous guidelines surrounding ocean 

dumping, sorting out the boundaries of the London 

Convention/Protocol with other international agreements, 

such as MARPOL 73/78, providing adequate financial 

and technical assistance, addressing liability and compensation, and ensuring adequate enforcement.

Ensuring Full Adoption of

Key International Agreements

An ongoing concern in relation to potential ocean 

disposals in the Southern Ocean is the limited adoption 

by states of the key global and regional agreements aimed 

at preventing and controlling ocean dumping activities. 

As of 31 October 2009 there were only 86 parties to the 

1972 London Convention, comprising 67.09% of world 

tonnage, and only 37 parties to the 1996 Protocol to the 

London Convention (hereafter referred to as the 1996 

Protocol), comprising 32.22% of world tonnage.10 There 

are limited parties (47) to the Antarctic Treaty (28 consultative and 19 nonconsultative), and only 34 parties to the 

Madrid Protocol.11

Thus, the window remains open for vessels not flagged 

by state parties to the relevant conventions to sidestep the 

various legal obligations. The effectiveness of the Antarctic Treaty System in light of vessels flagged to nonparties 

has been especially worrisome in relation to tourist vessels 

(New Zealand, 2007), but the range of concerns is much 

broader than tourism activities and could extend to ocean 

dumping.

Getting a Firm International Legal Grip

on Ocean Fertilization Projects

The international control of proposed ocean fertilization projects, exemplified by adding iron to increase 

phytoplankton blooms and the fixation of CO2 from the 

atmosphere, might be described as slippery. Controversy 

has arisen over application of the ocean dumping regime 
VANDERZWAAG / OCEAN DUMPING AND FERTILIZATION • 249

to ocean fertilization projects with considerable fragmentation and uncertainties in international responses to 

date (Sagarin et al., 2007; Freestone and Rayfuse, 2008; 

Rayfuse et al., 2008). The limited international “grip” is 

exemplified by the 2009 LOHAFEX ocean fertilization 

experiment in the Atlantic sector of the Southern Ocean.

A first slippery aspect is how proposed ocean fertilization activities relate to the two global ocean dumping 

agreements. Differing views have emerged over whether 

ocean fertilization projects constitute ocean dumping as 

defined in the 1972 London Convention and 1996 Protocol as “any deliberate disposal at [into the] sea of wastes 

or other matter from vessels, aircraft, platforms or other 

man-made structures at sea.” “Yes” views argue iron 

does constitute dumping as the “iron matter” is deposited deliberately and is abandoned, whereas “no” views 

posit that deliberate iron deposits are not undertaken for 

disposal purposes but for constructive purposes such as 

marine scientific research (IMO, 2008a, 2008b).

Perspectives have also differed on whether ocean fertilization projects might fall under a major exception found 

in both 1972 London Convention and the 1996 Protocol 

as “‘dumping’ does not include . . . placement of matter 

for a [the] purpose other than the mere disposal thereof, 

provided that such placement is not contrary to the aims 

of this convention [protocol].” Disagreements exist over 

whether ocean fertilizations are placements (with a possible restricted meaning of placing with the ability to retrieve), and a lack of clarity surrounds what placements 

would be contrary to the aims of the convention (IMO, 

2008a, 2008b).

Even if ocean fertilization is deemed subject to the 

ocean dumping regime, questions of prohibition or permitting requirements arise. Under the 1972 London Convention, could iron be an industrial waste listed on Annex 1 

and thus be prohibited from disposal at sea? Or would the 

special or general permitting requirement apply? Under 

the 1996 Protocol, is iron an inert, inorganic, geological 

material that is allowed to be dumped? The fact that adding iron to marine waters is meant to catalyze growth of 

phytoplankton supports a conclusion against inertness 

(IMO, 2008c).12

A second slippery aspect is the considerable fragmentation and uncertainties in international responses 

to ocean fertilization proposals to date. A fragmented 

array of international bodies/institutions have offered 

statements/decisions regarding ocean fertilization, e.g., the 

Conference of the Parties to the CBD at their ninth meeting, scientific groups and meetings of the parties to the 

London Convention and 1996 Protocol, the International 

Oceanographic Commission ad hoc Consultative Group 

on Ocean Fertilization, and the Intergovernmental Panel 

on Climate Change (IMO, 2008e).

Considerable uncertainties remain in the wake of two 

of the most important international pronouncements/

processes. In 2008 the Ninth Conference of the Parties to 

the CBD adopted Decision IX/16 on biodiversity and climate change, which urged parties and other governments 

to adopt a precautionary approach to ocean fertilization. 

The text called upon parties and other governments:

[I]n accordance with the precautionary approach, to ensure 

that ocean fertilization activities do not take place until there is 

an adequate scientific basis on which to justify such activities, including assessing associated risks, and a global, transparent and 

effective control and regulatory mechanism is in place for these 

activities; with the exception of small scale scientific research 

studies within coastal waters. Such studies should only be authorized if justified by the need to gather specific scientific data, 

and should also be subject to a thorough prior assessment of the 

potential impacts of the research studies on the marine environment, and be strictly controlled, and not be used for generating 

and selling carbon offsets or any other commercial purposes. 

(emphasis added)13

The text left major questions outstanding regarding 

what ocean fertilization projects were allowable. What are 

small-scale scientific studies? What are coastal waters?

Key uncertainties also surround the numerous efforts 

to address ocean fertilization under the London Convention and 1996 Protocol. In June 2007, the Scientific 

Groups to the London Convention and Protocol issued a 

statement of concern regarding iron fertilization to sequester CO2

 and took the view that knowledge about the effectiveness and potential environmental impacts of ocean 

fertilization currently was insufficient to justify large-scale 

operations (IMO, 2007a). The statement of concern, 

subsequently endorsed by the governing bodies at their 

meeting in November 2007 (IMO, 2007b), was not clear 

regarding what would constitute “large-scale operations.”

In October 2008, the governing bodies issued Resolution LC-LP.1 on the “Regulation of Ocean Fertilization,” 

which also raised various uncertainties. The parties agreed 

that in order to provide for legitimate scientific research, 

such research should be regarded as placement of matter 

for a purpose other than mere disposal thereof; scientific 

research proposals should be assessed on a case-by-case 

basis using an assessment framework to be developed by 
250 • science diplomacy

the scientific groups; until specific assessment guidance 

is available, parties should be urged to use utmost caution and the best available guidance to evaluate scientific research proposals to ensure marine environmental 

protection consistent with the convention/protocol; and 

given the present state of knowledge, ocean fertilization 

activities other than legitimate scientific research should 

not be allowed and such other activities should be considered as contrary to the aims of the convention/protocol 

(IMO, 2008d).

What precisely constitutes legitimate scientific research remained hazy. This was especially the case since 

the “assessment framework for scientific research involving ocean fertilization” had yet to be finalized.

The Intersessional Legal and Related Issues Working 

Group on Ocean Fertilization, established in 2008, developed at its meeting in February 2009 eight decision options 

for further addressing ocean fertilization (IMO, 2009a). 

Options ran from nonbinding (e.g., a further statement 

concern or resolution) to binding (e.g., a stand-alone article on ocean fertilization or an amendment of Annex I 

to the 1996 Protocol). Australia and New Zealand considered the simplest and most effective way of regulating 

legitimate scientific research involving ocean fertilization 

would be to add a new paragraph to Annex I (the global 

safe list): “material or substances for which the principal 

intention is ocean fertilization for legitimate scientific research” (IMO, 2009b). At the time of writing, there was 

no consensus yet on the best option, and the Intersessional 

Working Group on Ocean Fertilization was tasked with 

continuing the discussions with a meeting proposed for 

March 2010 (IMO, 2009c).

The limited “international grip” reality is exemplified 

by the 2009 LOHAFEX experiment, the joint iron fertilization experiment carried out in January–March 2009 

by the Alfred Wegener Institute for Polar and Marine Research (AWI) and the National Institute of Oceanography 

(India). Approximately 6 tonnes of dissolved iron were applied to a 300 km2

 area outside the Antarctic Treaty area 

in an eddy around 48°S, 16°W (AWI, 2009a). Considerable criticisms emanated from environmental nongovernmental organizations as an alleged violation of the CBD’s 

moratorium (only small-scale scientific research studies in 

coastal waters allowed). No international EIA process was 

applicable. The project fell outside the Madrid Protocol’s 

EIA provisions since it took place outside the Antarctic 

Treaty area. A scientific risk assessment was conducted by 

AWI and the National Institute of Oceanography (AWI, 

2009b), and on behalf of the Federal Ministry of Education and Science (Germany) further reviews of the risk 

assessment were solicited from various institutions (including from the British Antarctic Survey, University of 

Heidelberg, and University of Kiel).14 The risk assessment 

interpreted the CBD criteria broadly. The project was a 

spatial small-scale experiment covering just 300 km2 compared to the 50 million km2

 covered by the Antarctic Circumpolar Current and involved coastal waters as coastal 

plankton species inhabit the offshore fertilized waters 

(AWI, 2009b).

Securing Compliance

One of the greatest compliance challenges is the failure by many parties to the London Convention and the 

1996 Protocol to report on the nature and quantity of 

wastes permitted to be dumped at sea (as required by Article VI, paragraph 4, of the convention and Article 9, 

paragraph 4, of the protocol). For 2007 (latest year for 

which annual reporting was available) only 35 contracting parties provided a national report, and 53 contracting 

parties did not report (IMO, 2009d). Thirty-three contracting parties had not submitted reports in the last five 

years (IMO, 2009e)!

It remains to be seen how effectively a Compliance 

Group, established in 2007, will facilitate compliance 

with reporting requirements. The Compliance Group’s 

questionnaire asking parties to explain reasons for not 

reporting received only 18 protocol parties’ responses, 

and only two convention parties answered (IMO, 2009f). 

The Compliance Group, at its second meeting in October 

2009, recommended as a first step establishing or reestablishing contact with parties not reporting and suggested 

as a second step developing a comprehensive database on 

parties having national implementing legislation in order 

to ascertain whether national permitting requirements 

exist for which reporting would be mandatory (IMO, 

2009f). The Compliance Group has authority to address 

noncompliance by individual parties, but the noncompliance procedure has not been invoked yet.

CONCLUSION

Ocean dumping in the Southern Ocean from outside 

the region is not reportedly occurring.15 This is likely for 

two main reasons: preference by disposers to dispose of 

wastes in areas within national 200 nautical mile zones 

because of cost savings and hazardous and radioactive 

waste export prohibitions to the Antarctic Treaty area 

pursuant to the Basel Convention and Joint Convention 
VANDERZWAAG / OCEAN DUMPING AND FERTILIZATION • 251

on Spent Nuclear Fuel and Radioactive Waste Management, respectively.

The Madrid Protocol has substantially curtailed the 

ocean disposal of wastes generated within the Antarctic 

region with the exception of sewage and domestic liquid 

wastes. Although the protocol requires cleanups of waste 

sites located on land (Article 1, paragraph 5), the protocol does not impose a parallel requirement to address past 

dumping of wastes in the ocean. Thus, the need to clean 

up historical offshore dumping sites could become a future 

issue.16

The greatest challenge on the law and policy horizon relating to ocean dumping appears to be possible future ocean 

fertilization experiments in the Antarctic region. Six iron enrichment experiments have already occurred in the Southern 

Ocean (Strong et al., 2009), and potential negative effects 

of large-scale fertilizations, such as creating anoxic regions, 

altering marine food webs, and increasing ocean acidity, remain a concern (Cullen and Boyd, 2008; Denman, 2008) as 

does the potential for substantial nitrous oxide production 

(Law, 2008). Although considerable uncertainty surrounds 

the future scale and numbers of ocean fertilization initiatives, in light of experiments like LOHAFEX, where carbon 

sequestration was smaller than expected, and because of the 

serious difficulty in verifying net greenhouse gas reduction 

(Strong et al., 2009), one thing is certain. Getting a firm international governance grip on ocean fertilization proposals 

remains an “unfinished voyage.”

NOTES

1. “LOHA” is the Hindi word for iron, and “FEX” refers to fertilization experiment.

2. “United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea,” 10 December 1982, 21 International Legal Materials (ILM) 1261.

3. “Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping 

of Wastes and Other Matter,” 29 December 1972, 11 ILM 1291.

4. “Protocol to the Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter,” 7 November 1996, 36 

ILM 1 (1997).

5. “Convention on Biological Diversity,” 5 June 1992, 31 ILM 818.

6. “Basel Convention on the Control of Transboundary Movements 

of Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal,” 22 March 1989, http://www

.basel.int/text/documents.html (accessed 27 November 2009).

7. “Joint Convention on the Safety of Spent Fuel Management 

and on the Safety of Radioactive Waste Management,” 29 September 

1997, International Atomic Energy Agency INFCIRC/546 (24 December 

1997).

8. “Antarctic Treaty,” 1 December 1959, 402 United Nations 

Treaty Series 71.

9. “Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty,” 

4 October 1991, 30 ILM 1455.

10. IMO, “Summary of Status of Conventions,” http://www.imo

.org/Conventions/mainframe.asp?topic_id=247 (accessed 20 November 

2009).

11. Secretariat of the Antarctic Treaty, “Parties,” http://www.ats.aq/

devAS/ats_parties.aspx?lang=e (accessed 8 November 2009).

12. “Revised Specific Guidelines for the Assessment of Inert, Inorganic Geological Material,” adopted in 2008, further clarify that the term 

“inert” is intended to ensure that the only impacts of concern following 

dumping are restricted to physical effects (IMO, 2008d: Annex 4).

13. Convention on Biological Diversity, “COP 9 Decisions,” Decision IX/16, Section c(4), http://www.cbd.int/decisions/cop/?m=cop-09

(accessed 27 November 2009).

14. The reviews are on the AWI Web site, http://www.awi.de/en/

news/selected_news/2009/lohafex/experiment (accessed 27 November 

2009).

15. For example, ocean dumping activities reported by contracting 

parties for the year 2006 overwhelmingly constituted dredged materials, 

which were disposed of in coastal waters, and no dumping permits were 

reported as issued for the Southern Ocean. See IMO, Final draft summary report on dumping permits issued in 2006, Report LC 31/INF.3 

London: IMO, 2009.

16. An example of a marine area being subject to at least limited 

past ocean disposals and contamination by heavy metals from a landbased disposal site is provided by Brown Bay near Australia’s Casey Station. See “Initial Environmental Evaluation for Clean-up of Thala Valley 

Waste Disposal Site at Casey Station, Antarctica (2003),” http://www

.ats.aq/documents/EIA/7041enThala%20Valley%20IEE(2003).pdf (accessed 27 November 2009).

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Introduction

Uninhabited and remote regions were claimed by a nation when their economic, political, or military values were realized. Examples from the Northern and Southern hemispheres show various approaches on how to treat claims 

among rivaling states. The archipelago of Svalbard in the High Arctic and Antarctica are very good examples for managing uninhabited spaces. Whereas the 

exploration of Svalbard comprises about 300 years of development, Antarctica 

was not entered before the end of the nineteenth century. Obviously, it took 

much more time to settle the ownership of the archipelago in the so-called Svalbard Treaty of 1920 than to find a solution for Antarctica and the existence of 

overlapping territorial claims by adopting the Antarctic Treaty of 1959. Why 

was the development at the southern continent so much faster? What is the essential difference between the situations obtaining in the two hemispheres? Was 

there a transposition of experiences from north to south? And did the Svalbard 

Treaty help to construct the Antarctic Treaty? Answers to these questions will be 

given by the analysis of single periods in the history of polar research, scientific 

networks, and special intergovernmental and nongovernmental organizations 

with concomitant scientific or economic interests that merged in the twentieth 

century to arrange exploration and exploitation of polar regions on an international basis.

EXPLORATION AND SCIENCE BEFORE WORLD WAR I

Svalbard

After the era of whaling around the archipelago of Svalbard, the Norwegians were the only ones to exploit the area economically, including fishing, 

since the 1850s, whereas Swedish expeditions starting in the same decade were 

the first to explore the interior of the islands (Liljequist, 1993; Holland, 1994; 

Magnússon, 2000). Names were given to discoveries, therewith inscribing on 

maps the idea of occupation and claims (Wråkberg, 2002; Norwegian Polar 

Parallel Precedents for the Antarctic Treaty

Cornelia Lüdecke

Cornelia Lüdecke, SCAR History Action 

Group, Fernpaßstraße 3, D-81373 Munich, 

Germany. Correspondence: c.luedecke@lrz.uni

-muenchen.de.
254 • science diplomacy

Institute, 2003). However, at the end of the nineteenth 

century, the archipelago of Svalbard still was a terra nullius, or “no-man’s land.” This situation changed when 

coal mining began on West Spitsbergen, the main island 

of the archipelago (hereafter called Spitsbergen) in 1898. 

The British were the first to open a coal mine in Advent 

Bay. From then on, the land around a mine was claimed by 

Americans, Norwegians, Swedes, and Russians or by companies from those countries. Coal from Svalbard tends to 

be purer and burns much more efficiently than coal from 

other mines, thus making it a desirable resource, especially 

for Norway and Russia.

When Norway separated from Sweden and became an 

independent kingdom in 1905, it led to a Norwegianization policy, especially relating to Svalbard with its important resources (Ericson, 2000; Barr, 2003). Thus, Svalbard 

should become Norwegian, a claim that led to serious 

disputes about ownership. A joint Norwegian, Swedish, 

and Russian administration could have been one of the 

options to solve the problem, and a lot of effort was spent 

to satisfy all needs, but all negotiations came to an end 

because of the outbreak of World War I (Wråkberg, 2002; 

Barr, 2003).

In 1910 Ferdinand Graf von Zeppelin of Germany led 

an expedition to the west coast of Spitsbergen to examine 

the feasibility of using his airships for exploration of the 

Arctic from the air (Lüdecke, 2008). The results of the 

expedition showed that there was far too little meteorological information available to realize safe zeppelin flights 

in the unknown Arctic. Consequently, in 1911, a German 

geophysical observatory was established on a private 

base for the investigation of the upper air (Dege, 1962; 

Lüdecke, 2008). It was the first permanent manned scientific station functioning in Spitsbergen until the outbreak 

of World War I. Then the station was closed permanently, 

but the published data became a valuable source for later 

climatological analysis.

The establishment of coal mines and the German 

meteorological station to support further exploration by 

aircraft both hinged on a geopolitical motive in their permanent maintenance as an underlying and tacit mode of 

effective occupation (Wråkberg, 2002; Hacquebord and 

Avango, 2009).

Antarctica

Throughout the eighteenth century sealing only took 

place at peri-Antarctic islands (Riffenburgh, 2007; Headland, 2009). The scientific intermezzo of the “magnetic 

crusade” to discover the magnetic pole on the Southern 

Hemisphere by competing British, French, and American 

expeditions around 1840 laid the foundation for later 

British and French claims in Antarctica on the basis of the 

principle of “discovery.” When whaling in the Arctic declined, new whaling grounds were found in Antarctic waters at the end of the nineteenth century, but at that time, 

there was no need to sail farther south for exploration of 

the terra incognita.

In contrast to private or national initiatives to explore 

Spitsbergen, the first exploration period of the Antarctic 

continent was organized on an international level by the 

VIth International Geographical Congress at London in 

1895. The General Assembly recommended that scientific 

societies throughout the world should urge the exploration of the still unknown South Pole region (Lüdecke, 

2003). The rival political great powers, Great Britain and 

Germany, were especially interested in this project. They 

established their own national commissions involving the 

most knowledgeable persons available to prepare an Antarctic expedition for exploration and discovery. However, 

it was the Belgian naval officer Adrien de Gerlache who 

most immediately followed and realized the Belgica expedition (1897–1899), which not only comprised an international crew of seamen and scientists but was also the first 

expedition ever to overwinter in Antarctic waters.

During the VIIth International Geographical Congress 

in Berlin in 1899, Clements Markham, president of the 

Royal Geographical Society in London, defined the fields 

of work of the planned German and British expeditions. 

He divided a map with the outline of Antarctica into four 

quadrants starting at the 0° Greenwich meridian. The Weddell and Enderby quadrants were designated as the working 

area of the German expedition, whereas the Ross and Victoria quadrants were designated as British owing to earlier 

British exploration and early scientific work in that region.

Additionally, an international cooperative effort around 

meteorological and magnetic measurements evolved in the 

period 1901–1904, largely designed along the lines of the 

program of the first International Polar Year (IPY, 1882–

1883). The secretariat of the congress at Berlin functioned 

as coordinating agency. Thus, in spite of the political rivalry 

between Great Britain and Germany, a scientifically driven 

agreement was obtained with no governmental influence. 

After the return of the British (leader: Robert Falcon Scott), 

German (leader: Erich von Drygalski), Scotch (leader: William Speirs Bruce), and Swedish (leader: Otto Nordenskjöld) 

expeditions, all meteorological data of the participants were 

collected, analyzed, and published in Germany.

Although not mentioned explicitly, imperialistic interests were the backstage driving force of this period. The 
LÜDECKE / PARALLEL PRECEDENTS FOR THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 255

political evaluation of the expedition brought shame to the 

German emperor Wilhelm II. He felt beaten because Scott 

had reached 82°S, while Drygalski’s ship was trapped by 

ice at the polar circle. A side effect of this period was the 

foundation of an Argentine-Norwegian whaling company 

and the first whaling station in Grytviken on South Georgia by Nordenskjöld’s expedition captain, Carl Anton 

Larsen, in 1904 (Fogg, 1992; Riffenburgh, 2007). His initiative triggered the onset of a very successful and lucrative 

whaling business in Antarctic waters.

Ten years later conditions had changed, and the South 

Pole became the object of political and personal interests. 

After his first expedition, it was well known that Scott 

planned to conquer the South Pole for the British empire. 

At the same time Wilhelm Filchner of Germany raised 

money for a private expedition to investigate whether west 

and east Antarctica were connected by land or separated 

by an inlet filled with ice (Filchner, 1994). His original plan 

was to perform a trans-Antarctic expedition in cooperation with the British expedition (Lüdecke, 1995). Instead, 

Antarctica obviously had become a place of imperialism, 

where scientific collaboration had lost its base. There was 

an uproar when Roald Amundsen, who had gained Antarctic experience as second mate during the Belgica expedition, headed south to win the race to the pole. This was 

regarded as an affront and an act of trespassing in the eyes 

of Scott’s compatriots (Fogg, 1992; Headland, 2009). Additionally, a private Japanese expedition appeared at the 

Bay of Whales close to Amundsen’s wintering station, but 

without appropriate equipment and lacking experience, it 

could only perform limited research.

International Polar Organization

When the first wave of Antarctic expeditions returned 

after the successful period of international cooperation 

in the beginning of the century, their achievements were 

discussed during the International Congress on World 

Economy in Mons (Belgium) in 1905 (Lüdecke, 2001). A 

resolution was passed that the Belgian government should 

be requested to organize an “International Congress for 

the Study of Polar Regions” in the following year. The initiative came from the director of the observatory at Uccle, 

Georges Lecointe, the former navigation officer of the Belgica expedition. He planned to establish an “International 

Association of Polar Research” with the following objectives (Lüdecke, 2001:162):

1. an international agreement on open questions of polar 

geography,

2. a general effort to reach the poles of the Earth,

3. expeditions to increase our knowledge of the polar regions, and

4. a specific program of scientific work to be carried 

out by different countries during their international 

expeditions.

It was quite obvious that governmental support was 

needed to institutionalize polar research in the participating countries, but this support was unlikely because serious questions of power already threatened to shake the 

political balance at that time. However, Lecointe’s proposal was signed by most Antarctic expedition leaders 

present at Mons. After the congress, the Polish member 

of the Belgica expedition, Henryk Arctowski, published 

a proposal for the planned meeting in 1906, in which he 

suggested purely geographical research expeditions in Antarctica as a first step, to be followed by fixed circumpolar 

overwintering stations to facilitate systematic scientific 

investigation as the next step, supplemented by extended 

overland journeys for geological investigations of the continent (Arctowski, 1905). During the subsequent congress 

in Brussels in 1906, when the draft of the statutes of the 

planned polar organization was discussed (Beernaert, 

1906), Nordenskjöld was the only acting delegate present 

who had participated in the first international cooperative effort of Antarctic expeditions (Lecointe, 1908a). The 

goals of the association were (Lüdecke, 2001:164):

1. systematization of polar research,

2. support and publishing of the results of polar research, 

and

3. support of enterprises with respect to the scientific investigation of polar regions through material and advisory support.

Some scientists supported the idea of setting up this 

kind of international polar commission, one that would 

only give advice to expeditions. However, polar research 

seemed not yet to be ripe for this type of organization 

without some national polar institute to back it up. Others 

criticized the planned composition of the commission favoring polar explorers above scientists as the main participants at a time when a combination of station observation 

and geographical exploration was still essential. Finally, a 

polar commission was established as an intergovernmental organization with official delegates representing participating states. In addition, persons without a mandate 

from governments were allowed to contribute to the polar 

conferences in their individual capacities. Participants 
256 • science diplomacy

regretted that the original intention of an International 

Polar Association to firmly organize polar expeditions was 

not achieved.

When the next conference took place in 1908, only 

12 countries participated. Notably missing were leading 

states in polar research, like the United Kingdom, Germany, and Norway, a gap that indicated the waning interest in this internationalist project. However, the statutes of 

the International Polar Commission contain nine significant articles that were approved. The objects of the commission were

1. establishment of closer scientific relation between polar 

explorers,

2. securing methods and coordination of scientific 

observation,

3. discussion of scientific results of expeditions, and

4. assistance to enterprises to study polar regions.

Nordenskjöld was elected vice president and Lecointe 

became secretary of the commission. During the conference Arctowski presented a plan for international cooperation, and Lecointe gave an outline of the establishment 

of an international polar institute and library (Arctowski, 

1908; Lecointe, 1908b).

It took five years to organize the third polar congress, 

which was held in Rome during the Xth International Geographical Congress in 1913 (Lecointe, 1913). Both poles, 

one of the major goals of the commission, were reached 

twice in the meantime. In Rome, Nordenskjöld was reelected vice president, and Robert Edwin Peary, who stood 

at the North Pole a year earlier, was made secretary general. The International Polar Commission was a farsighted 

attempt to organize bipolar research on an international 

basis, but polar research still was not institutionalized in 

any country. This failure, finally, contributed to the commission being dissolved during World War I.

INTERWAR PERIOD (1918–1939)

Svalbard Treaty

World War I interrupted the negotiations about the 

fate of Svalbard and, luckily, also offered a solution in the 

course of the Versailles negotiations. Finally, the Treaty 

Concerning the Archipelago of Spitsbergen (later called 

Svalbard Treaty; available at http://www.jus.uio.no/

treaties/01/1-11/svalbard-treaty.xml, accessed 29 October 

2009) between Norway, the United States, Denmark, 

France, Italy, Japan, the Netherlands, Great Britain and 

Ireland and the British overseas dominions, and Sweden 

was signed on 9 February 1920. One hundred-twenty 

claims existed at that time (Sysselmannen, 2008). The 

treaty established Norway’s full sovereignty over Svalbard, 

including the obligation to protect Svalbard’s natural environment. Other important points were demilitarization, 

free communication, and equal rights regarding economic 

exploitation by citizens of other treaty nations for the 

development and peaceful utilization of the archipelago. 

It also made a commitment toward the management of 

research in Svalbard as well as regulation of the same. 

Above all, an international meteorological station was to 

be established, referring to the earlier permanent observatory that had been briefly maintained by Germany. A 

mining code was added in 1923, defining claims up to 120 

km2, which were to be based on “geological indications,” 

primarily from aerial photographs (Barr, 2003).

It took more than five years to gather the most important signatures for the treaty. Among them, Germany, 

with its scientific work, and Russia, with its coal mining industry, were seen to be crucially important actors 

in view of claims that might be raised later. The treaty 

entered into force as Svalbard Act on 14 August 1925. 

When the claims were finally settled, interest turned toward international cooperation in research. Not only were 

grants for expeditions to Svalbard given by the Norwegian 

government, but also the Norwegian Polar Institute was 

founded in 1928, a way of achieving further Norwegian 

influence. The Svalbard Treaty, giving sovereignty to Norway and granting exploitation rights to all treaty nations, 

showed how claims of an originally uninhabited polar region could be handled.

Antarctic Claims

After World War I whaling in Antarctic waters increased again. The British income from whaling licenses 

and later from taxes on whale oil were used to purchase 

the Discovery and refit it for oceanographic research in 

1923 (Savours, 1992). The American Antarctic policy at 

the time was inconsistent, with the United States, on the 

one hand, sometimes unofficially indicating that a claim 

was to be laid but, on the other hand, officially denying 

“discovery” as a valid principle for claims, replacing it 

with the principle of “effective occupation” entrenched in 

the Hughes Doctrine of 1924, which entailed a criterion 

more difficult to fulfill (Hall, 1989; Riffenburgh, 2007). 
LÜDECKE / PARALLEL PRECEDENTS FOR THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 257

Toward the end of the 1920s, aerial flight reconnaissance 

was introduced in Antarctic research, strongly promoted 

and exemplified by the American polar researcher and 

navy officer Richard Evelyn Byrd, who flew to the South 

Pole on 29 November 1929 (Headland, 2009). In addition, many discoveries were made by whalers, namely, 

by the Norwegians, who charted the coast of Lars Christensen Land in the 1930–1931 season. Parallel to the 

growing whaling industry, scientific expeditions were 

funded for the preparation of national claims. Byrd’s second expedition to the Bay of Whales (1933–1935) led 

to extensive geological survey and reconnaissance flights 

to the interior of the Antarctic continent. And the third 

German Antarctic Expedition 1938/1939 performed an 

extensive aerial mapping with the aim of occupation between 14°W and 20°E to secure German whaling interests 

(Lüdecke and Summerhayes, In press). Antarctic mineral 

resources like coal did not play any role until the mid 

1970s (Fifield, 1987).

At the same time, neighboring states like Argentina 

and Chile, as part of their self-interest, developed the concept that parts of the Antarctic Peninsula belonged to their 

countries. In the course of the discoveries of the seventh 

continent as well as the fishing and whaling grounds in the 

adjacent Antarctic Ocean interested parties promoted their 

wish to foster their claims of the uninhabited area. Cutting the continent into big cakelike slices similar to what 

Markham had done was one option. But both South American countries had overlapping claims that interfered with 

British claims made in 1908 and 1917, including the Malvinas (Falkland Islands). These overlapping claims complicated the issues that had to be handled (Howkins, 2006). 

Then, in 1937 Argentine claimed a right to all British dependencies because that area was defined as included under 

the scope of the Treaty of Tordesillas of 1494 (Fuchs, 1983; 

Howkins, 2006). In 1940 Chile also put forward similar 

claims with the geological argument that the peninsula is 

a natural continuation of the Andes and thus part of the 

motherland. This dispute became the so-called “ABC Problem” between Argentina, Britain, and Chile. In 1943 the 

British reacted and started the naval expedition Operation 

Tabarin (1943–1945) to “preserve the country’s existing 

rights by occupying and re-occupying various sites within 

the Falkland Island Dependencies” (Fuchs, 1983:31). The 

first two permanent bases were established on Deception 

Island and at Port Lockroy, both claimed by Argentina. 

Continuous meteorological and other scientific investigations, including biology, geology, and survey, were performed to strengthen the British claim (Headland, 2009).

International Society for the Exploration of the

Arctic Regions by Means of Aircraft (Aeroarctic)

Rapid development of airships during World War I 

provided a new means of transport, with airships that 

could fly over great distances and carry heavy loads. In the 

future they would offer the first suitable means for transArctic traffic routes from Europe to Tokyo or San Francisco, at least according to a much-discussed suggestion 

emerging in commercial circles in Germany in 1919.

For further planning, more meteorological information than already provided by the German observatory in 

Spitsbergen was needed. A German initiative promoted 

a feasibility study, i.e., an airship expedition (Lüdecke, 

1995). This study led to the foundation of the International Society for the Exploration of the Arctic Regions 

by Means of Aircraft (Aeroarctic) under the presidency 

of Fridtjof Nansen and incorporated in Berlin in 1924 

as a nongovernmental organization (Studiengesellschaft, 

1924). It was the first international scientific organization 

with German and Russian members after World War I. 

At that time both countries were still excluded from the 

International Research Council (IRC) founded after the 

war by the scientific academies of the major Allied nations, with the rationale that excluding the former Central 

Powers was necessary to prevent a new rise of German scientific dominance (Cock, 1983). The inclusion of Russia 

in Aeroarctic was essential since cooperation in the Russian Arctic was crucial for the exploration of trans-Arctic 

air routes. In the end the society consisted of 21 national 

committees with 394 individual members and 42 bodies 

(Lüdecke, 1995, 1999). Aeroarctic was managed by the 

Council of the Society, the Exploration Council, and the 

Ordinary General Assembly of the members (Anonymous, 

1931); see Figure 1. An editorial board for the journal 

Arktis was also installed (Nansen, 1928–1929; Berson et 

al., 1930–1931). The journal came out for four years and 

terminated in 1931 as a result of the economic crisis.

The president of the International Meteorological Organization (IMO) Ewoud van Everdingen concurrently became the Dutch member of the Council of Aeroarctic. He 

was the ideal person to promote the exploratory study expedition within the most appropriate organization (Cannegieter, 1963). In addition, the Danish Aeroarctic member, 

Dan LaCour, became president of the Commission for 

the Second International Polar Year (1932–1933) of the 

IMO. Six more scientists were members of both groups, 

four of them even on the council of Aeroarctic. This overlap underlines the successful international networking of 
258 • science diplomacy

Aeroarctic. Moreover, it is interesting to note that Everdingen and the Polish member Arctowski were also familiar 

with the early attempts of the International Polar Commission. Everdingen had been one of the Dutch deputies 

delegated, and Arctowski was a Belgian deputy delegate 

and, of course, one of the driving forces of the prewar International Polar Commission (Lecointe, 1908a).

Membership in Aeroarctic was dominated by 32% 

Germans, 20% Russians, and 12% Americans. During 

the meteorological planning for the expedition with the 

airship LZ 127 Graf Zeppelin to the Russian Arctic, more 

meteorological data were needed. Such data, it was held, 

might be supplied by a new International Polar Year (Second IPY, 1932–1933), a notion originally suggested by a 

member of Aeroarctic: “The permanent monitoring of the 

[Russian] Arctic is, so to speak, thought to be a permanent 

repetition of the International Polar Year 1882/83, only 

with the difference that the airship as means of transport 

would be introduced” (Berson and Breitfuß, 1927:112, 

my translation).

In the first volume of the journal Arktis, Nansen described the proposed working program of the society, including a network of observing stations on islands in the 

Arctic Ocean and additional radio weather stations on 

the drift ice of the inner Arctic installed with the help of 

airships or aircraft for monitoring of the geophysical conditions (Nansen, 1928). Later, drift stations became part 

of the Russian Second IPY program. After the return of the 

successful zeppelin expedition with LZ 127 Graf Zeppelin in 1931, data were analyzed and the results published. 

With the ill-fated crash of the airship LZ 129 Hindenburg

on 6 May 1937, the futuristic vision of global airlines with 

airships had to be abandoned.

Aeroarctic had pooled members living in countries 

neighboring the Arctic and interested in polar research 

for a single purpose. It provides a fascinating example of 

how an international nongovernmental organization managed a joint scientific program during the interwar period. 

However, it failed to continue when political and economical conditions of the principal actor, Germany, changed 

and airships disappeared from the sky.

POST–WORLD WAR II

Politics and Science in Svalbard

By November 1944, when Soviet troops were in 

northern Norway, the Soviet Union wanted to expand its 

influence on the archipelago of Svalbard and proposed 

FIGURE 1. Organization chart of Aeroarctic in 1931 according to Berson et al. 1931.

Council of

the Society

(29 members)

Exploration 

Council

(42 members)

Representatives 

of National 

Councils

(12 members)

Board of

Exploration 

Council

(5 members)

President 

Treasurer

Secretary

and Deputies

6 Vice presidents

(12 members)

Technical 

Commissions

(4 members)

Scientific

Commissions

(7 members)

Aeroarctic

(Berlin)

General Assembly

(396 personal members, 42 bodies)
LÜDECKE / PARALLEL PRECEDENTS FOR THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 259

to repeal the Treaty of Spitsbergen and to replace it by a 

Soviet-Norwegian administration (Barr, 2003). A Norwegian counterproposal of April 1945 allowed for a SovietNorwegian defense system with military installations on 

Svalbard instead of joint possession. The election of a 

new Labour Party government in Norway changed the 

political situation after the war, resulting in a cessation 

of further discussions in early 1947. The Soviets realized 

that the “status quo in Svalbard was the best policy” 

(Barr, 2003:247). Strategic interest in the Arctic grew, 

and the cold war became the dominant feature of the 

period. Consequently, Norway was among the first states 

that became signatories to the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) in 1949 “to keep the Russians out, 

the Americans in, and the Germans down” (Reynolds, 

1994:13).

In 1963 the Norwegian mine in Ny-Ålesund was 

closed due to an accident in which 21 miners were killed. 

Geopolitical considerations to inhabit the abandoned village again led to the establishment of the first scientific 

station by the Norwegian Polar Institute. Focus was on 

the investigation the ionosphere and Earth magnetism as 

well as cosmic physics. In addition, in 1967 a telemetry 

station was established by the European Space Research 

Organization (ESRO), in which the Soviet Union was not 

represented as member, connecting Svalbard with space. 

The gradual change from a mining village to an international science village was crucial for Norway; otherwise, 

the Soviet Union might have settled in Ny-Ålesund as an 

additional location for manifesting its presence.

Politics and Science in Antarctica

After World War II management of the Antarctic stations of the Falkland Island Dependencies was turned over 

to the Falkland Island Dependencies Survey within the 

Colonial Office (1945–1961), and the number of Antarctic stations increased from five in 1946 to ten. When the 

survey was renamed the British Antarctic Survey in 1962, 

the number of stations was reduced to eight (Fuchs, 1983).

The United States embarked on a different strategy. 

The largest exploratory venture was organized primarily 

as a naval training exercise under the name United States 

Antarctic Development Project (Operation High Jump, 

1946/1947) (Riffenburgh, 2007). Some 4,700 men were 

given polar experience, which would be useful in the event 

of a war with the Soviet Union in the far north. This operation was followed by Operation Windmill in 1947/1948, 

with objectives including “re-enforcing, through continuity in ‘occupation and use’ the validity of possibly 

United States claims in the Antarctic regions.” (Headland, 

2009:320). However, the United States did not put forward any such claim (Moore, 2004).

In contrast to this military operation the NorwegianBritish-Swedish Expedition (NBSX, 1949–1952) to the 

Norwegian Dronning Maud Land and overlapping German discovery of Neuschwabenland proved that a small 

international project under the auspices of Norwegian 

scientists and organized as a tripartite consortium could 

be very successful, and it delivered interesting results in 

meteorology, geophysics, and air photography (Lewander, 

2007). International cooperation seemed fruitful for future investigations. Although foreign policy and security 

were the prime concerns, the NBSX served the “emerging 

need for increased knowledge of weather systems by defense organizations worldwide,” i.e., the western alliance 

(Lewander, 2007:137).

Antarctic Commission

After 1945, various nations sent out expeditions and 

established permanent scientific stations to explore the 

interior of Antarctica preparatory to advancing territorial claims. Also, further steps were taken to solve the 

unsettled status of the continent. At first, Argentina and 

Chile agreed upon their position against the United Kingdom in a declaration “on the rights of both countries over 

parts in Antarctica and . . . their desire to arrive as soon 

as possible at the conclusion of a Treaty” signed on 12 

July 1947 (Headland, 2009:314). Parallel to this attempt 

the United States was searching for a solution to unite 

the claimant states with the main aim of excluding Soviet 

influence on Antarctica. A secret American aide-memoire 

and draft agreement on Antarctica was handed to the 

embassies of Argentina, Chile, the United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, France, and Norway on 9 August 

1948 (Department of State, 1948). The United States had 

come to the conclusion that “an international status for 

the Antarctic area is the most practicable and preferable 

method of solving the problem of conflicting and potentially conflicting claims” (Department of State, 1948:36). 

The foreseeable values of the South Pole region were held 

to be “predominantly scientific rather than strategic or 

economic.” However, internationalization would help 

to preserve control of the possible strategic use and economic value in the hands of nations interested. This is different from the approach of the Svalbard Treaty in which 

Norway, the United Kingdom, and the United States were 

involved. An international administration would take 

care of
260 • science diplomacy

1. systematic exploration and investigation of Antarctic 

phenomena,

2. meteorological observation important to long-range 

weather forecasting (as in Svalbard),

3. removal from present or future conflict,

4. preserving control over any actual or potential values, 

and

5. widening the sphere of friendly, cooperative international endeavor to all islands of 60°S except the South 

Shetland Islands and South Orkney Islands.

The plan for an international administration was 

summed up in eight articles. The main aspect was to freeze 

all territorial claims and to create an Antarctic Commission 

involving one representative from each participating state, 

which, in turn, would constitute the actual government. 

The commission would work together with the United 

Nations and international scientific bodies. Article V described the formation of a scientific board, which would 

“draw up plans for exploration, investigation and scientific and technical development . . . The Commission shall 

prescribe appropriate procedures and conditions under 

which states, and privately sponsored expeditions, may 

conduct scientific investigations, [and] develop resources” 

(Department of State, 1948:40). The “establishment of facilities and the conduct of scientific investigation” were 

to be fostered as well as “free access to, and freedom of 

transit through or over the area.” The signatory states 

were asked to take all measures necessary to maintain international peace and security. This was, on the whole, 

the background to the American suggestion, predicated 

on consensus around the conviction that the Soviet Union 

should not be allowed to step onto the white continent, 

which should be under the influence of the Western Hemisphere only. The idea was revisited and modified a decade 

later in the context of the International Geophysical Year 

(IGY), planning for which started in 1950 (see Berkman, 

this volume).

In the wake of the IGY, naming of Antarctic features 

was addressed in German newspapers (Lüdecke, 2009). 

When the German Schwabenland expedition (1938/39) 

had discovered and investigated Neuschwabenland by extensive aerial survey, one of the prerequisites of “effective” 

occupation had been achieved (Wråkberg, 2002). As German claims were never made, German names, the newspapers maintained, should at least be highlighted on the 

map. Visible signs of German footprints were important 

to underline geopolitical desires at a time when the fate of 

Antarctica was still unknown.

OUTLOOK

The extensive IGY program initiated during a dinner 

conversation in Silver Spring (Maryland) in 1950 was the 

biggest scientific experiment ever (Korsmo, 2007). It was 

carried through in parallel in both polar regions from 1 July 

1957 until 31 December 1958. A dense network of stations 

was set up along the Antarctic coast and at points on the continent, including the American Amundsen-Scott South Pole 

Station; the name of this station indicated that no national 

preference was given for this special location, in which all 

longitudes defining Antarctic sectors come together. Peaceful cooperation, especially of American and Soviet scientists 

during the cold war, finally prompted the Antarctic Treaty 

in 1959 (Belanger, 2006), which incorporated some salient 

ideas of the Svalbard Treaty like demilitarization, free communications, and equal rights of all members.

Besides the treaty a Scientific Committee of Antarctic Research (SCAR) emerged from the Comité Speciale 

de l’Année Geophysique Internationale (CSAGI) and was 

established within the International Council of Scientific 

Unions (ICSU) to guide coordination in research and provide scientific advice to the Antarctic Treaty Parties. (Fifield, 

1987; Fogg, 1992; Jabour and Haward, 2009). It resembled 

the organizational structure of Aeroarctic (see Figure 2).

The function of SCAR, which consists of one representative from each member country, is similar to the function of the General Assembly of Aeroarctic, with personal 

members representing their countries; the SCAR Executive 

Committee corresponds to the Council of Aeroarctic, and 

the SCAR Working Groups correspond to the Aeroarctic 

Exploration Council.

It is amazing to realize that it took about three centuries from the discovery of Svalbard until the Svalbard 

Treaty, whereas in Antarctica the process of arriving at a 

treaty, historically speaking, went much faster. After the 

decline of living resources in Arctic waters, interest shifted 

to Antarctic waters, where sealing and whaling became 

highly profitable. However, the first scientists entered the 

southern continent in 1899. They set the scene for geopolitical discussions, occupation, and claims. However, there 

were no aspirations to gain a permanent settlement at that 

stage, and Antarctica continued to be a no-man’s land 

until a greater appetite for matters of sovereignty came 

up, essentially starting in the 1930s. During the cold war 

the IGY provided the first possibility for all participating 

countries as equal partners to establish a permanent presence on the southern continent. This was achieved as a 

first step by the continuation of scientific work for another 
LÜDECKE / PARALLEL PRECEDENTS FOR THE ANTARCTIC TREATY • 261

year. Logically, the parties involved at that time became 

the exclusive 12 nations to sign the Antarctic Treaty and 

become members of SCAR; they were the only ones to 

do so until Poland and the Federal Republic of Germany 

joined in 1978 (Headland, 2009).

Although the IGY also had an Arctic program, questions of sovereignty made it difficult for scientific cooperation, especially in respect to the Soviet Arctic, which was 

more or less closed to foreigners (Magnússon, 2000). In 

consequence, no organization similar to SCAR developed 

after the IGY for the North Pole region. In 1987, SCAR 

initiated a first meeting of representatives of the so-called 

Arctic countries (Canada, Denmark/Greenland, Finland, 

Iceland, Norway, Soviet Union, Sweden, and United 

States) that finally led in 1990 to the foundation of the International Arctic Science Committee (IASC) in Resolute 

(Canada), a body that is associated with ICSU.

Currently, we are facing negotiations about the economic use of the northwest and northeast passages in the 

Arctic and the political implications attending this prospect. It will be interesting to see if experiences gathered in 

the south will be transposed back to the north and how 

the Antarctic Treaty can offer guidance to establish a possible Arctic Treaty.

Acknowledgments

First, I have to thank Paul Berkman for his invitation 

to give the historical talk during the Antarctic Treaty Summit in Washington, D.C., on 30 November 2009. I also 

want to thank two anonymous reviewers for their constructive remarks and Aant Elzinga (Gothenburg) for his 

comments and the correction of my English text.

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ABSTRACT. Article III of the Antarctic Treaty outlines the way in which international 

cooperation, established during the International Geophysical Year, should be continued. 

Exchanges of scientists have occurred among many nations over the last 50 years, but increasing planning and logistics collaboration have marked the achievement of many major 

scientific goals possible only through multinational activity. The recently completed International Polar Year provides clear evidence of how well this is succeeding in Antarctic 

science for the twenty-first century, and the publication record clearly reflects this pooling 

of talent.

INTRODUCTION

The International Geophysical Year of 1957–1958 was a major milestone in 

many ways. Not only did it provide an opportunity for wide-scale international 

cooperation in physical sciences, but its Antarctic activities provided motivation 

for an international treaty setting the continent aside for peace and science. In 

negotiating the treaty the diplomats were at pains to ensure that the requirement 

for international collaboration was written into the text. Articles II and III of 

the Antarctic Treaty lay out the principles of freedom of scientific investigation, 

international cooperation, and the free availability of results and data.

This paper highlights several recent exemplars of the international research 

in Antarctica that, in practical terms, a single nation could not have undertaken 

on its own. Much of this science is currently helping to explain the Antarctic region’s involvement in global change, a central research question of our age. This 

research echoes the themes of the Antarctic Treaty Summit: science interacting 

with diplomacy, science as a source of policy issues, science as an early warning, 

and science as a quest for fundamental knowledge.

Researchers themselves are attentive to these broad points. On a recent visit 

to the National Science Foundation a polar ecologist remarked “we are ethically 

obligated to stay ahead on climate change.” She is looking beyond her science 

to the broader communities’ need to understand the science and to take action 

based on those scientific findings.

International Collaboration 

in the Antarctic for Global Science

Karl A. Erb

Karl A. Erb, Office of Polar Programs, National 

Science Foundation, 4201 Wilson Boulevard, 

Arlington, Virginia 22230, USA. Correspondence: kerb@nsf.gov.
266 • science diplomacy

INTERNATIONAL RESEARCH 

COLLABORATION

The Antarctic Treaty did not invent international science, but its provisions have fostered international science 

in powerful ways. During the Cold War in the 1950s and 

later, the United States and the Soviet Union exchanged 

scientists in the Antarctic. At first they simply traded personnel. But international projects now involve detailed 

planning, shared logistics, and interactive science.

In 1981 the Soviet icebreaker Mikhail Somov was the 

research platform for 13 Soviet scientists and 13 U.S. scientists. The ship went far into ice-infested regions of the 

Weddell Sea, the first deep penetration since Shackleton’s 

famous voyage on Endurance in 1915–1916. The result 

was the first comprehensive data set obtained in winter 

sea ice. A decade later, the Russian icebreaker Akademik 

Federov and the U.S. icebreaker Nathaniel B. Palmer collaborated in the same region to establish a drifting camp 

on the sea ice. Seventeen American and 15 Russian scientists collected data for four months regarding the Weddell 

Gyre, which is a key constituent of the global climate system, sending cold, dense Antarctic waters throughout the 

world’s ocean. The Soviet Union transformed itself into 

the Russian Federation while the ship was deployed, but 

the Antarctic research was completed as planned.

Experience and the ever-present Antarctic Treaty gave 

its member nations the confidence to do complex international projects like these, requiring the full commitment 

of each partner for project success. The achievements for 

science are irrefutable. As the number of Treaty Consultative Parties roughly doubled from the original 12 to 28 

nations, Dastidar and Ramachandran (2008) showed that 

published international Antarctic papers with coauthors 

from two or more nations increased from 15 papers in 

1980 to 190 international papers in 2004 (Figure 1). This 

accomplishment is significantly greater than for world science as a whole. The bibliographic record also shows that 

other scientists cite the international papers more than 

they cite the single-nation papers, proof that international 

cooperation increases the progress of science and enables 

research that otherwise would be expensive or infeasible.

INTERNATIONAL POLAR YEAR PROGRESS

In the years since 2004, my counterparts heading Antarctic programs in the other treaty nations will likely agree 

FIGURE 1. Antarctic paper publications from 1980 to 2004.

100

200

300

400

500

600

700

Multinational

National
erb / INTERNATIONAL COLLABORATION IN THE ANTARCTIC • 267

that the recently concluded field phase of the International 

Polar Year of 2007–2008 is resulting in dramatic advances 

in understanding this important part of the world. The rise 

in polar climate papers has been particularly steep.

Countries are working together to describe current 

and potential future events impacting the Antarctic ice 

sheet. Only through such a broad effort involving China, 

the United Kingdom, France, the United States, and other 

countries can we hope to reduce uncertainties in the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) estimates 

of long-term global sea level rise. The goal is to determine 

the rates of loss of ice from the main drainage basins (Figure 2) and how the rates depend on bed lubrication, topography, and ocean temperature.

The Antarctica’s Gamburtsev Province (AGAP) project is an IPY effort involving the United States, the United 

Kingdom, Russia, Germany, China, and Australia that discovered river valleys in the Gamburtsev Mountains under 

the Antarctic ice sheet. This is the location of the first Antarctic ice sheet (~34 mya) and thus represents potentially 

very old ice and a tectonic enigma. The effort gave us a 

first detailed look at what that part of the continent, as big 

as the Alps, might have been like before it was covered in 

ice. This project involved close international collaboration 

in science, technology, and logistics.

An IPY signature project, the Larsen Ice Shelf System, 

Antarctica (LARISSA; Figure 3), is a collaboration by Argentina, Belgium, South Korea, Ukraine, and the United 

States to study a regional problem with global change implications. The abrupt environmental change in Antarctica’s Larsen Ice Shelf system was investigated using marine 

and Quaternary geosciences, cryosphere and ocean studies, and research into marine ecosystems. In an example 

of IPY’s education and legacy roles, a two-week course in 

the United States in July 2010 under the auspices of the 

Australia-based International Antarctic Institute used recently acquired marine data, sediment cores, and imagery.

Twenty-eight countries are collaborating in the Polar 

Earth Observing Network (POLENET) to map uplift of 

the Antarctic crust resulting from a decreased mass of the 

FIGURE 2. Antarctic ice sheet drainage.
268 • science diplomacy

covering ice sheet. Data from new GPS and seismic stations spanning much of the Antarctic and Greenland ice 

sheets are used to model how much ice was lost over the 

10,000 years since the last major ice age. These data, taken 

with information gathered by satellites, help in determining where, and at what rate, the ice sheets are changing in 

response to recent climate change. The measurements are 

critical in refining estimates of future global sea level rise. 

The collaborations have led to new technology for continuous measurement at autonomous observatories operating 

in polar conditions and have provided a legacy framework 

for ongoing international geophysical observations.

Thirteen countries are participating in the International 

Trans-Antarctic Scientific Expedition (ITASE), which is 

collecting ice core samples that provide signatures of how 

constituents of the atmosphere have changed since the beginning of the industrial revolution. The ITASE is an existing project (begun in 1990) that matches IPY goals and that 

flourished during the IPY period. Like the ice sheet drainage 

collaborations shown in Figure 2, ITASE has tended to distribute its goals geographically among the involved nations. 

A workshop identified tasks for national participants, and 

the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR) 

Global Change Program provides coordination.

FIGURE 3. LARISSA study area.
erb / INTERNATIONAL COLLABORATION IN THE ANTARCTIC • 269

Germany, Italy, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, 

and the United States contributed to the Antarctic Geological Drilling Program (ANDRILL) and obtained deep 

sediment cores from the sea bed that show Earth’s climate 

15–30 mya. These paleoclimate perspectives increase 

confidence in the ability to predict future change. Using 

the McMurdo Ice Shelf as a drilling platform, the project 

found new evidence that even a slight rise in atmospheric 

carbon dioxide affects the stability of the West Antarctic 

Ice Sheet.

France and the United States combined their capabilities in the Concordiasi project to develop a new way 

of measuring the constituents of the atmosphere, layer 

by layer, from top to bottom with new instruments that 

are dropped from long-duration stratospheric superpressure balloons deployed from McMurdo. Their data are 

coupled with surface observations at a number of Antarctic locations. This Concordiasi project is intended to reduce uncertainties in aspects of climate change that could 

change the mass balance of the Antarctic ice sheet. Figure 

4 shows an instrument (dropsonde) launched on demand 

under a parachute to measure atmospheric parameters on 

the way down over Antarctica.

In biology a major impetus has been provided to 

marine scientists by the Census of Antarctic Marine Life 

(CAML). The Southern Ocean is around 10% of the 

world’s oceans, and together with the Arctic Ocean, it is 

the least studied. It is a major carbon sink, and one of the 

globe’s major ecosystems. This five-year CAML program 

involved 27 cruises on research vessels from the United 

States, United Kingdom, Australia, New Zealand, France, 

Russia, Belgium, Germany, Spain, Italy, Brazil, Chile, Uruguay, Peru, and Japan searching both the seafloor and the 

water column for new species, of which hundreds have 

already been identified.

These multinational research programs are conceived 

through a variety of mechanisms that include scientific 

workshops, meetings convened under science and technology agreements between and among nations, and, increasingly, electronic access to data of common interest. For 

over 50 years SCAR has provided a broadly international 

forum for identifying and building on common interests 

among scientists and building collaborations and plans 

for achieving them. Its major new programs on Antarctic 

climate evolution, biodiversity, subglacial lakes, and solarterrestrial physics now involve more than 30 nations.

INFRASTRUCTURE AND LOGISTICS

Implementing these multinational projects is possible 

only because nations share access to their national infrastructures and logistics in Antarctica. The Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP), which 

brings operational expertise to bear in all aspects of Antarctic support, is of particular importance in facilitating the 

range of logistic support needed in Antarctica to carry out 

these studies in a safe and environmentally responsible manner. The COMNAP members work closely with each other, 

with other governmental agencies in their nations, and with 

SCAR to match international logistic infrastructure to the 

needs of these international science collaborations.

The following are just a few examples of shared 

infrastructure:

•	 the French-Italian station at Dome C that hosts, 

among many other projects, a significant portion of 

the Concordiasi project;

•	 the Airbus A319 that is operated by the Australian 

Antarctic Program as an important component of the 

logistics pool, as are the wheeled and ski-equipped 

FIGURE 4. Dropsonde.
270 • science diplomacy

C-130s that New Zealand and the United States operate; and

•	 the Swedish icebreaker Oden that hosts joint U.S.-

Swedish research in the Southern Ocean and opens 

the channel through the sea ice that enables annual resupply of the U.S. research stations at McMurdo and 

the South Pole.

The flags of the 12 nations that brought the Antarctic 

Treaty into being are proudly arranged in front of the new 

Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station of the U.S. Antarctic 

Program that was dedicated in 2009 (Figure 5). This station hosts researchers from around the world in the tradition of partnership that so characterizes Antarctica. 

Clearly, Antarctica, with its unique treaty and its long 

heritage of scientific research, remains a model of international cooperation, one with lessons for international 

science everywhere.

SUMMARY

Research at the frontier of science certainly can be 

performed and organized solely by individual scientists 

in two or more nations. But when complicated logistics partnerships are required, as are needed in supporting research in the huge and distant Antarctic, the legal 

framework provided by the Antarctic Treaty and the intellectual framework provided by the International Polar 

Year enable partnerships to develop and flourish over the 

several years required for planning, fieldwork, and followthrough in laboratories back home. The scientific value of 

the Antarctic will continue to increase as its role in Earth 

system science is more fully realized, and it is only through 

international collaboration that many of these pressing 

questions will be answered.

Acknowledgment

I am pleased to have this opportunity to thank and 

congratulate the International Council of Science and the 

World Meteorological Organization, together with the national IPY programs, for shouldering the critically needed 

responsibilities that made this fourth IPY a success.

LITERATURE CITED

Dastidar, P., and S. Ramachandran. 2008. Intellectual Structure of Antarctic Science: A 25-Years Analysis. Scientometrics, 77(3):389–414.

FIGURE 5. The new Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station of the U.S. 

Antarctic Program that was dedicated in 2009. Flags of the 12 original signatory nations of the Antarctic Treaty are arranged in front.
Article III of the Antarctic Treaty provides, inter alia, that “to the greatest extent feasible and practicable” information regarding plans for 

scientific programs and scientific observations and results from Antarctica are to be exchanged and made freely available. In implementation of this article, every encouragement is to be given to establishing cooperative 

working relations with United Nations specialized agencies and other international organizations having a scientific or technical interest in Antarctica.1

Thus, from the beginning, and anchored in the treaty itself, was the concept that there was a role for international organizations having a scientific or 

technical interest in Antarctica, both nongovernmental and intergovernmental 

organizations. Nongovernmental organizations are generally created by private persons or groups with no participation or representation by governments. 

They may raise funds privately and may also receive funds from governments, 

often for specific projects. Intergovernmental organizations generally include as 

members sovereign states or other intergovernmental organizations. National 

academies of science are often chartered, and largely funded, by governments 

but operate as and are considered nongovernmental. The Scientific Committee 

on Antarctic Research (SCAR) is an interdisciplinary committee of the International Council for Science (ICSU), which, in turn, is a nongovernmental body 

made up of national scientific members (often national academies of science) 

and international scientific unions.

At the First Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM) in Canberra 

in 1961, the parties adopted two measures that confirmed this role. Recommendation I-IV recognized that SCAR’s recommendations concerning scientific 

programs and cooperation were “a most valuable contribution” to international 

scientific cooperation in Antarctica” and that SCAR should be encouraged to 

continue its advisory work. Recommendation I-V recommended that governments encourage the work of international organizations having a scientific or 

technical interest in Antarctica and was not limited in its reference only to intergovernmental bodies.

Nevertheless, the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) could not be considered 

open to outside bodies during its first years, although SCAR’s advice and influence continued to play a prominent role.2

 The first opening of Antarctic Treaty 

Public Participation in Antarctica: 

The Role of Nongovernmental and 

Intergovernmental Organizations

Harlan Cohen

Harlan Cohen, International Union for Conservation of Nature, Suite 300, 1630 Connecticut 

Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20009.
272 • science diplomacy

meetings to intergovernmental organizations came in the 

1970s. The Food and Agriculture Organization of the 

United Nations (FAO) participated as an observer delegation to the Conference on the Conservation of Antarctic 

Seals in London in February 1972 at which the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals was adopted.

Following the adoption of this convention, work 

within the treaty system focused on marine living resources. This led to growing involvement by both intergovernmental and nongovernmental organizations in 

providing expert analyses, participating as observers in 

ATS meetings, and participating as members of national 

delegations to Antarctic Treaty meetings. At the Eighth 

Consultative Meeting in 1975, Recommendation VIII-10 

put certain questions to SCAR, which led to a meeting of 

scientists in 1976 to develop a research program on the 

Biological Investigation of Marine Antarctic Systems and 

Stocks (known as BIOMASS). The FAO prepared three 

reports in 1977 on the importance of krill to Antarctic 

marine ecosystems and their health.

The negotiation of the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR) 

represented a significant milestone in opening up the Antarctic Treaty System. In the United States, the National 

Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) became law in 1970. 

It provided for public consultation on the environmental 

effects of certain U.S. federal activities and alternatives 

thereto. The United Nations Conference on the Human 

Environment in Stockholm in 1972 also served as a stimulus for an expectation for public participation in environmental consultations. As early as 1977 at IX ATCM the 

U.S. delegation included an advisor from the nongovernmental organization The American Committee on International Conservation and the British delegation included an 

advisor from British Petroleum.

In Washington the Center for Law and Social Policy 

focused on Antarctica following the announcement by the 

1972–1973 Deep Sea Drilling Project of the discovery of 

hydrocarbons in the Ross Sea. In London, the International Institute for Environment and Development began 

an Antarctica project in 1975–1976. Both urged the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) to 

become more involved in Antarctic issues, and members of 

the IUCN adopted resolutions with respect to Antarctica 

at IUCN general assemblies starting in 1977. The Antarctic and Southern Ocean Coalition (ASOC) was established 

in 1978. The 1981 IUCN resolution called, inter alia, for 

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties (ATCPs) to invite 

qualified nongovernmental organization representatives, 

including IUCN and ASOC, to participate in ATCMs. The 

IUCN Council in 1981 called for the preparation of a conservation strategy for Antarctica and the Southern Ocean.

The conference adopting CCAMLR held in Canberra 

in May 1980 included a variety of international organizations, both intergovernmental and nongovernmental. 

These organizations included the European Community, 

the FAO, the Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission (IOC) of the United Nations Educational, Scientific 

and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), the International 

Whaling Commission (IWC), IUCN, SCAR, and the Scientific Committee on Oceanic Research (SCOR). Through 

the adoption of ATCM Recommendation IX-2 in 1977 it 

had been decided to include participation on an observer 

basis of “appropriate international organizations” “actively engaged in research and exploitation of Antarctic 

Marine Living Resources.”

Interest from outside of the Antarctic Treaty System 

continued. With the adoption of CCAMLR, Consultative Parties turned their attention to the potential for the 

exploitation of mineral resources. At XI ATCM in 1981 

in Buenos Aires it was agreed to consider a legal instrument with respect to mineral resources. The United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea, adopted in 1982, 

provided that the resources, referred to as minerals, on 

the seabed beyond national jurisdiction were the “common heritage of mankind.” Several developing states were 

of the view that mineral resources in Antarctica should 

be subject to a similar regime and raised the issue within 

the United Nations. In 1983, the question of Antarctica 

was discussed as an agenda item within the United Nations General Assembly. The Antarctic Treaty System was 

criticized because of its closed nature. This criticism served 

as a catalyst for opening the Antarctic Treaty meetings to 

Non-Consultative Parties and to international organizations, including nongovernmental ones. It also served to 

encourage greater public availability of papers and reports 

from Consultative Meetings.

Thus, over time participation in its meetings and processes was opened to observers from the outside. These 

changes were reflected in the Rules of Procedure, which 

were amended at XIV ATCM in Rio de Janeiro in 1987 to 

provide for participation by representatives of SCAR and 

the CCAMLR Secretariat as observers and representatives 

of several international organizations as experts. Observers were viewed as permanent components of the Antarctic Treaty System, whereas experts were to be invited only 

for specific agenda items on which they had expertise. Invited to XIV ATCM were the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) with respect to agenda items 13 and 

15 on Antarctic meteorology and telecommunications and 
cohen / PUBLIC PARTICIPATION IN ANTARCTICA • 273

an international system of marine hydrometeorological 

services to navigation in the Southern Ocean, SCAR with 

respect to agenda item 14 on air safety in Antarctica, and 

IUCN with respect to agenda item 9 on human impact on 

the Antarctic Environment.3

These organizations provide important information 

and advice without which the Antarctic Treaty Parties 

could not effectively or efficiently manage Antarctica. In 

other words, if these organizations did not provide certain necessary information, the parties would have to develop that information themselves. I refer to the scientific 

advice that is received, for example, from SCAR, ASOC, 

the International Hydrographic Organization (IHO), 

IOC, IUCN, SCAR, the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), and WMO. From the earliest days of 

the treaty system, SCAR provided advice and information 

that informed key decisions, including the adoption of the 

Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna 

and Flora, the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Seals, and CCAMLR.

The IUCN members maintained a focused interest 

in the conservation of Antarctica and its environment.4

As early as 1972 it had been recommended at the Second World Conference on National Parks that Antarctica 

be designated as a world park. Following a 1984 IUCN 

resolution on Antarctica and consultations with SCAR 

and a joint IUCN-SCAR symposium on the scientific requirements for Antarctic conservation in 1985, a joint 

IUCN-SCAR working group was established to consider 

a long-term conservation plan for Antarctica. An interim 

report was prepared in 1986. The IUCN had prepared 

a report on “Conservation and Development of Antarctic Ecosystems” in 1984, and SCAR had published a report on “Man’s Impact on the Antarctic Environment” 

in 1985. The IUCN has sent a delegation to ATCMs in 

most years since 1987 and to CCAMLR Commission 

meetings in most years since the first one in 1982. In 

1991 IUCN published “A Strategy for Antarctic Conservation.” In 1994 IUCN published “Developing the Antarctic Protected Area System: Proceedings of the SCAR/

IUCN Workshop on Antarctic Protected Areas” following a workshop held in 1992 in Cambridge, and in 1996 

it published “Opportunities for Antarctic Environmental 

Education and Training: Proceedings of the SCAR/IUCN 

Workshop on Environmental Education and Training” 

following a workshop held in 1993 in Gorizia. The IUCN 

also published the “Proceedings of the IUCN Workshop 

on Cumulative Impacts in Antarctica: Minimisation and 

Management” following a workshop held in 1996 in 

Washington, D.C.

The ASOC provides key information on a variety of 

issues. For example, ASOC submitted nine information 

papers to the most recent Consultative Meeting in Baltimore, including ones on marine protection, tourism, and 

climate change. The coalition submitted seven papers to 

the CCAMLR meetings in 2009. The Oceanites Project, a 

nongovernmental nonprofit science and education foundation, has participated for some years at Consultative 

Meetings as advisers on a national delegation and has 

provided invaluable information through the Antarctic 

Site Inventory on visitor sites. The UNEP has provided advice on bioprospecting and on other topics, sometimes in 

collaboration with other UN family bodies. Conservation 

trusts that do not necessarily participate directly in meetings provide information for the management of certain 

historic sites and monuments.

The International Association of Antarctica Tour 

Operators (IAATO) was founded as an industry group in 

1991 to promote and practice safe and environmentally 

responsible private travel to Antarctica. The IAATO has 

acted as a conduit from Consultative Meetings to its members to provide the industry with up-to-date information 

about safety and environmental protection requirements 

adopted at Consultative Meetings. The IAATO also provides Consultative Meetings with data about tourists, their 

numbers, their site visits, and their management. Consultative Parties need these data to manage and would have 

to collate them directly if IAATO did not provide them.

The various nongovernmental and intergovernmental 

organizations that attend Antarctic Treaty meetings also 

serve their members and the general public by providing 

information on actions taken with respect to the governance of Antarctica and developments on and around the 

continent, especially including those with respect to the 

environment. This, in turn, encourages interest in Antarctica and helps to build constituencies within different countries in support of programs in Antarctica, both 

for science and for conservation. It also requires care, 

as organizations must be careful to address or avoid the 

claimant/nonclaimant issue in such a way as to help the 

parties without offending any. Sometimes, an effective approach can be to provide scientific and technical advice to 

national delegations in a discrete and diplomatic way. At 

other times, a public approach may be more effective.

The IUCN has an additional complexity in that its 

members include both governments and nongovernmental organizations. Over half of the Treaty Parties are state 

members of IUCN, and many of the others have agencies 

that are also IUCN members. The IUCN’s mission is to 

influence, encourage, and assist societies throughout the 
274 • science diplomacy

world to conserve the integrity and diversity of nature and 

to ensure that any use of natural resources is equitable and 

ecologically sustainable. In some countries IUCN is recognized under private law; in others it is an international 

organization. In addition, the IUCN family includes six 

commissions, which are made up of individual volunteers, 

some with a private, academic, conservation, or industry nongovernmental background and others who work 

for government agencies. There are, at times, members 

of commissions who also serve on national delegations. 

These individuals may provide advice directly through 

IUCN or as part of a national delegation. The IUCN thus 

must provide its advice in such a way that it reflects resolutions passed at its governing meeting while at the same 

time reflecting its diverse membership and ensuring that 

it is true to its mission to influence, encourage, and assist 

societies to conserve the integrity and diversity of nature 

and to ensure that any use of natural resources is equitable 

and ecologically sustainable.

I would like to turn to the issue of public availability 

of information, which is clearly and directly related to the 

issue of public participation. Looking back, the Antarctic 

Treaty grew out of the International Geophysical Year of 

1957–1958 and was developed as a way to reserve Antarctica from cold war tensions that troubled the world at 

the time. It represented an innovative way to use scientific 

exchanges to promote disarmament, but in many ways the 

impetus for the Antarctic Treaty was disarmament. Thus, 

the treaty grew out of a disarmament (and therefore an 

arms) background. This set the stage for a culture in which 

governments of the time operated in relative secrecy, and 

early ATCMs were conducted in that atmosphere (though 

from the beginning the advice of SCAR and other international organizations was sought). As developments in the 

United Nations and several international treaty processes 

increasingly noted, the closed nature of the Antarctic 

Treaty System became more and more of an anomaly, and 

the debates on Antarctica in the United Nations General 

Assembly beginning in 1983 also played a major role in 

promoting more open information policies.

At the preparatory meeting for XII ATCM in April 

1983 it was agreed to invite Non-Consultative Parties for 

the first time. At the Twelfth Consultative Meeting in September 1983 in Canberra Recommendation XII-6 was adopted and referred to the Antarctic Treaty as based on the 

principles of the United Nations Charter, acknowledging 

“the value of increasing public knowledge of the achievements and operation of the Antarctic Treaty system.” This 

recommendation included a call to send certified copies 

of the final report of the meeting to the Secretary-General 

of the United Nations and to draw the attention, when 

ATCPs through it appropriate, of any United Nations 

specialized agency or any other international organization having a scientific or technical interest in Antarctica. 

The Antarctic Treaty Handbook was to be renamed and 

brought up to date. Starting with the Thirteenth Consultative Meeting, delegates were to indicate when submitting information documents if these were intended to be 

publicly available. After the closure of the meeting and 

provided no Consultative Party objected, any party could 

make the information document publicly available. The 

United States, as Depositary Government for the Antarctic 

Treaty, was invited to identify and catalog publicly available information about the treaty system.

At the Thirteenth Consultative Meeting in October 1985 in Brussels, through Recommendation XIII-1, 

it was agreed that efforts should continue to ensure full 

and accurate records of Consultative Meetings and that 

to the extent allowable under national law the reports of 

Consultative Meetings, the Antarctic Treaty Handbook,

and annual exchanges of information under the Antarctic 

Treaty should be made available to the public upon request. At XIV ATCM in October 1987 in Rio de Janeiro, 

Recommendation XVI-1 was adopted, amending Recommendation XIII-1 to read that all information documents 

would be considered public at the close of the Consultative Meeting unless the submitting party notified otherwise in advance.

With the opening of Consultative Meetings to NonConsultative Parties, to observers, and to experts, reports 

of the meetings and documents submitted to it became 

available to those groups. The practice still remained to 

consider documents as not public, though the Internet has, 

to a large extent, changed this practice. Documents remain 

password protected until after the Consultative Meeting, 

though parties and all interested international organizations, both intergovernmental and nongovernmental, have 

access to the password.

From the very beginning the role and expertise of nongovernmental organizations, and here I refer to SCAR, and 

of some other international organizations was recognized. 

The FAO and WMO, for example, were both recognized 

early on as important to Antarctic management.

Nongovernmental and intergovernmental organizations provide information and advice that is essential to 

good governance by Antarctic Treaty Parties. If information and advice from these organizations were not available, the system would have to compile this on its own 

and at considerable expense to itself, or it would not be 

able to fulfill properly its mandate. Participation by these 
cohen / PUBLIC PARTICIPATION IN ANTARCTICA • 275

organizations assists the parties; indeed, it is necessary for 

the management of Antarctica. These organizations also 

make better known to the general public the importance 

of Antarctica with its special role for peace and science. 

A number of organizations have helped to bring to public 

attention the effects of climate change that are now causing lasting and worrisome changes to the environment of 

Antarctica and the Southern Ocean.

Although the system has opened to nongovernmental 

and intergovernmental organizations over the years and 

recently has been fully open, the Rules of Procedure do 

not fully reflect this. Although Article IX of the Antarctic 

Treaty provides that Consultative Parties alone are entitled to appoint representatives to Consultative Meetings, 

the Rules of Procedure rightly provide that representatives 

of Non-Consultative Parties and of observers and experts 

may be invited. Some areas for consideration for change 

in the Rules of Procedure when they are next reviewed by 

the parties could include the following:

•	 Rules 3 and 27 should be amended to reflect that 

Non-Consultative Parties should always be invited (in 

practice, this has been the case in recent decades).

•	 Rules 32 and 42 should be amended to reflect that observers and invited experts are normally welcome at 

all sessions of the Consultative Meeting (in practice, 

this has been the case in recent years).

•	 Though not reflected in the Rules of Procedure, 

the handling of documents for meetings should be 

changed to make them publicly available ab initio and 

to eliminate the password protection procedures on 

the secretariat web site.5

Recalling the key role of science in Antarctica and 

with respect to Antarctic governance from the beginning 

of the Antarctic Treaty System, an increase in funding for 

science, including for basic research, would support continued public participation in the diffusion of knowledge 

about Antarctica and its role in global physical processes, 

including biological, geochemical, and environmental 

processes. The promotion of science would thus promote 

both public participation and the objectives of the Antarctic Treaty, especially Article III.

Acknowledgments

I thank the organizers and the Smithsonian Institution 

for making the Antarctic Treaty Summit: Science-Policy 

Interactions in International Governance possible and for 

inviting me to provide some comments on the historical 

role that nongovernmental and intergovernmental organizations have played in the treaty system. On the 50th 

anniversary of the signing of the Antarctic Treaty, I think it 

important to acknowledge those who crafted this elegant 

treaty that reserved a continent for peace and science, ensuring that this special place would remain free of military 

fortifications and activities while promoting international 

cooperation in scientific investigation. The remarks given 

herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily 

represent the views or policies of IUCN.

NOTES

1. Sources for information incorporated in these remarks include 

the Web site of the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, http://www.ats.aq/

index_e.htm; Harlan K. Cohen, ed., Handbook of the Antarctic Treaty 

System, 9th ed. (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of State, 2002), 

http://www.state.gov/g/oes/rls/rpts/ant/; Christopher C. Joyner and Sudhir K. Chopra, eds., The Antarctic Legal Regime (Dordrecht, the Netherlands: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers, 1988); Philippe Sand, ed., Greening 

International Law (New York: The New Press, 1994); the ASOC Web 

site, http://www.asoc.org/AboutUs/tabid/163/Default.aspx; the IAATO 

Web site, http://www.iaato.org/about.html; the Oceanites Web site, 

http://www.oceanites.org/; the SCAR Web site, http://www.scar.org/; and 

Lee Kimball, personal communication. All web sites cited here were accessed in December 2009

2. The SCAR’s advice was sought with respect to conservation of 

Antarctic fauna and flora (The Agreed Measures for the Conservation of 

Antarctic Fauna and Flora) and again two years later specifically with 

respect to seals, and this advice was recognized through recommendations adopted at the Third and Fourth Consultative Meetings in Brussels 

in June 1964 and Santiago in November 1966, respectively. The SCAR’s 

influence was recognized in a preambular paragraph of the Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora as adopted 

through Recommendation III-VIII.

3. The SCAR, CCAMLR, and COMNAP now participate as observers, and at recent meetings experts who were invited included those 

from the Interim Secretariat of ACAP, ASOC, IAATO, IHO, IMO, IOC, 

the IPY International Programme Office, IUCN, UNEP, WMO, and 

WTO. Thus, the observers include one nongovernmental organization, 

one intergovernmental organization, and one international association 

of government employees. The experts include three nongovernmental 

organizations, seven intergovernmental organizations (including three 

that are UN specialized agency related), and several that are independent of the United Nations. However, the Rules of Procedure provided 

that experts would not necessarily be invited to observe the whole of the 

meeting, and indeed, until the late 1990s experts were asked to leave the 

meeting during discussion of at least one agenda item.

4. Founded in 1948 as the world’s first global environmental organization, IUCN is the world’s largest professional global conservation 

network, whose membership includes over 200 government and over 

800 nongovernment organizations; thus, it is a unique intergovernmental 

and nongovernmental organization.

5. There would appear to be no real reason to protect working, 

information, or secretariat papers before the meeting. All parties and 
276 • science diplomacy

interested observers and experts who assist the meeting have access to the 

documents. It is unlikely that representatives of a state that is not a party 

to the treaty could not find a friendly country to share papers, and it is 

doubtful that there are large numbers of unaffiliated persons who might 

seek access. But even if persons unaffiliated with the system obtained access to papers in advance, no obvious harm would be done. Public availability of documents reflects modern best practice and would ease access 

for delegates and simplify work for the secretariat.
INTRODUCTION

The overriding objective of the Antarctic and Southern Ocean Coalition 

(ASOC) is to ensure that the world’s last unspoiled wilderness, Antarctica and 

the Southern Ocean, survives intact as a global commons for the heritage of 

future generations of humans and wildlife. The ASOC is the only nongovernmental organization with expert observer status to the Antarctic Treaty System 

(ATS). The ASOC sends teams of scientists and policy experts to key international treaty meetings around the world where Antarctica’s future is decided: 

the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM), Commission on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR), International 

Maritime Organization (IMO), International Whaling Commission (IWC), and 

Agreement on Conservation of Albatrosses and Petrels (ACAP). We also follow 

closely other international fora of importance to Antarctica, including the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD).

A VISION OF ANTARCTICA IN 2060: ASOC’S ASPIRATIONS

Drawing on the presentations at the Antarctic Treaty Summit, it is clear that 

as we look ahead 50 years and ask what kind of Antarctica we hope will exist 

then, the ATS faces some significant challenges. Drawing on ASOC’s experiences 

over the past 30 years and recent surveys of Antarctic Treaty Parties, scientists, 

and the public, there are some bedrock truths to keep in mind.

•	 There is strong support for using Antarctica to carry out globally significant 

science for which it is the only, or the best, platform and maintaining in 

perpetuity the open science regime of the Antarctic Treaty.

•	 There is strong public support for maintaining the “wilderness and esthetic 

values” of the Antarctic and for the region to be kept as pristine as possible and emerging awareness among Antarctic Treaty Parties of the desirability of minimizing the “human footprint” of activities in the region. 

There is increasing support in the ATS for taking more steps to minimize the 

The Antarctic Treaty System: Perspectives 

of Environmental Nongovernmental 

Organizations on Addressing Key Issues

James N. Barnes

James N. Barnes, Antarctic and Southern Ocean 

Coalition, 1630 Connecticut Ave. NW, 3rd Fl., 

Washington DC 20009, USA. Correspondence: 

james.barnes@asoc.org.
278 • science diplomacy

human footprint by sharing logistics and infrastructure, avoiding duplication of activities, and generating 

more of the energy needed for science and logistics 

from sustainable sources. The ASOC sponsored a resolution on wilderness values at the World Parks Congress in Mexico in December 2009, which was agreed 

to unanimously.

•	 There is broad public support for creating more 

protected areas on land and in the Southern Ocean, 

including developing a representative network of marine reserves. This has become a priority of CCAMLR 

and Antarctic Treaty Parties over the past two years. 

The CCAMLR has set a target date of 2012 for establishing an initial network of marine protected areas 

(MPAs), and the Atlantic Treaty Consultative Parties 

(ATCPs) are moving forward to develop a more comprehensive system of Antarctic Specially Protected 

Areas and Antarctic Specially Managed Areas under 

Annex V to the Protocol on Environmental Protection 

to the Antarctic Treaty (Environmental Protocol).

•	 There is no support for Antarctica becoming a mass 

tourism destination, with hotels and other infrastructure on land and large vessels carrying thousands of 

passengers. The Antarctic Treaty Parties have been 

moving steadily the past few years to control commercial tourism and establish rules to minimize the 

impacts of tourism.

RECOMMENDATIONS FOR IMPROVEMENTS 

OF THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SYSTEM

On the basis of views expressed and papers presented 

at the summit and ASOC’s experiences within the ATS 

during the past 30 years, I have the following suggestions 

on process and substance issues of importance to the continuing health of the ATS.

Process

•	 Bringing measures, annexes, and recommendations 

into force promptly is very important for the credibility and legitimacy of the ATS and also has practical 

implications. Too many legally binding requirements 

from past Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings are 

not in force because one or more states have not ratified them. The case of the liability annex (Annex VI 

to the Environmental Protocol), so far ratified by only 

four states, is illustrative.

•	 The information exchange system that lies at the heart 

of the AT is in some disarray, with around 50% of 

parties not providing this crucial information either 

ever or an a timely basis. There needs to be serious 

commitment by all parties to meet those basic obligations, on time.

•	 Although the inspection regimes of the Antarctic 

Treaty and Environmental Protocol are not mandatory, it is important for the credibility of the ATS that 

regular inspections are undertaken by a wide range of 

parties working jointly or individually. That step will 

help improve compliance and promote best practices.

•	 Promoting positive synergies among the various international agreements with pertinence and/or competence 

in the Southern Ocean is very important, particularly 

with the IMO, ACAP, the IWC, and the CBD.

•	 Giving the ATCM some form of continuing “personality” rather than it having just a two-week life each year 

would help provide better continuity and follow-up 

and allow the ATCM to have a “voice” at other international fora. It would also be helpful to have a standing committee for key subjects, rather than the ad hoc 

intersessional contact groups utilized now.

•	 The ATS could take further steps toward fuller transparency, including following the precedent of the Edinburgh ATCM to include the media and civil society 

in the meetings. Most ATCMs are eerily quiet places 

from the standpoint of the media, which is unsurprising since the press are not invited save for a token 

opening ceremony photo opportunity and all the 

working and information papers are embargoed until 

after the meeting ends. At least these papers are eventually made publicly available on the ATS Web site, 

but CCAMLR papers are never made public. Even 

accredited experts such as ASOC cannot regularly access the documents of past CCAMLR meetings. Being 

more transparent will help build greater public support for the money needed to finance research and logistics in Antarctica. It would also likely speed up the 

pace of gaining full agreement on important new steps 

and on bringing into legal force past commitments.

•	 More countries need to participate actively in the key 

intersessional working groups established with varying degrees of formality by the ATCM and CCAMLR. 

Since decisions ultimately are by consensus, the process of building that consensus is crucial. When so 

many CCAMLR Parties do not participate at the key 

Working Group on Environmental Monitoring and 

Management (WG-EMM), for example, that means 
barnes / PERSPECTIVES OF ENVIRONMENTAL NGO s • 279

the dialogue and discussion take much longer and that 

often decision makers at the commission level have 

not been well briefed by their scientists since they 

were not at the EMM. Hence, it is harder to come to 

a decision.

Substance

•	 Developing a regulatory system for commercial tourism remains a high priority. Although some initial 

steps have been taken, so far there is no agreement 

on a comprehensive, legally-binding system that will 

prevent mass tourism, land-based infrastructure such 

as hotels, and use of larger, riskier vessels.

•	 Working closely with the IMO on a legally binding 

Polar Code for all vessels operating in Antarctica is 

a high priority, and although linked to the first point 

on tourism to a certain degree, it is far broader in 

its scope. There are major concerns about vessel accidents causing loss of human life and pollution of 

the marine environment, which would be a tragedy 

and also give the ATS a black eye in terms of its management of the region. These fears were enhanced by 

the sinking of the MV Explorer. The Polar Code negotiations began in February 2010 at the IMO. The 

initial discussions show good support for appropriate ice-strengthening standards and other vessel- and 

crew-related rules to better protect the environment 

and human life. The ATCPs support negotiation of a 

mandatory Polar Code by the IMO and are participating actively, through their national representatives.

•	 Creating a representative system of large marine reserves and more land-based protected areas using 

the tools of the protocol and CCAMLR is a major 

priority and opportunity. It is very positive that the 

ATCPs, working through the Committee for Environmental Protection (CEP), and CCAMLR Parties have 

endorsed a target of 2012 for achieving the first phase 

of an MPA system, focusing on the list of 11 areas 

that have been identified so far. In this context, the 

first joint meeting of the CEP and CCAMLR Scientific Committee took place in April 2009, which engendered substantial progress toward a representative 

network. On the MPA list is the Ross Sea, which is a 

particular priority for ASOC and scientists around the 

world. Having more regular joint meetings of the CEP 

and Scientific Committee of CCAMLR would build 

on this good precedent and help ensure a harmonized 

approach within the ATS.

•	 Illegal fishing—a large, valuable international business involving many companies and vessels, including some from ATS Parties—is estimated to be 15% 

to 25% of the legal fisheries. All Antarctic Treaty 

and CCAMLR Parties ritually condemn illegal fishing in the Southern Ocean, and the public wants it 

stopped. The question is how to use the available assets and tools cooperatively to do this. We should take 

note of the new Port States Agreement, which offers 

new tools. I hope it is ratified and brought into force 

quickly. At the same time, there are many steps parties 

can take both individually and collectively to bring to 

a halt the pirate fishing, which is focused on Antarctic 

and Patagonian toothfish. These steps include better 

use of sophisticated imaging and tracking devices, ideally on a cooperative basis, and more robust enforcement within the ATS area.

•	 Completing an ecosystem-based, small-scale management unit system for the krill fishery, the base of the 

marine food chain, will constitute an important step 

forward for CCAMLR as well as providing a model 

for other regional fishery management organizations. 

Although this has been under discussion at CCAMLR 

for several years regarding Area 48, the focus of the 

krill fishery, so far it has not been possible to reach 

agreement on the precise methodology to follow. This 

is partly because of lack of adequate data about impacts on predators.

•	 Developing a framework to cover commercial biological prospecting, which is developing into a major 

commercial activity, is an important task. This has 

been on the agenda of the ATCM for several years, 

but so far without agreement on any form of regulatory structure. Although substantively this should be 

a joint task of the ATCM and CCAMLR, so far only 

the ATCM has discussed it. One key problem goes 

back to a procedural issue referred to above: the poor 

response of ATCPs to providing the information required by Recommendation 2 of Resolution 7 (2005), 

which requires parties to provide detailed information 

on biological prospecting by its scientists and companies as well as details on patents and products utilizing Antarctic organisms. Shared information about 

scientific research and expeditions lies at the heart of 

the ATS and is a key obligation of all parties. Failure 

to comply with this obligation risks undermining the 

Antarctic Treaty over time.

•	 Antarctica provides a preeminent platform for carrying out scientific research on climate change of 
280 • science diplomacy

global importance. Over the past 50 years, the Antarctic Peninsula has warmed four times faster than 

the global average, making it one of the most rapidly 

warming regions on the planet. Dramatic changes to 

terrestrial and marine ecosystems are occurring in 

areas of warming. The southward retreat of the High 

Antarctic Zone and successful invasions of nonindigenous species on subantarctic islands are among the 

trends in biotic change brought by increasing human 

activity and increasing temperatures. In the past few 

years the ATCM and CCAMLR have begun elevating climate change to a mainstream and crucial item 

of discussion at their meetings, and the first special 

meeting of experts on climate change took place in 

April 2010 in Norway. Those experts conveyed 30 

recommendations to the 2010 ATCM in Punta del 

Este, Uruguay, which were endorsed by the ATCM. 

Taking account of climate change impacts through 

management decisions about fisheries and protected 

areas, taking actions in Antarctica to mitigate impacts, and utilizing Antarctic science in international 

negotiations to help avoid dangerous climate change 

are priorities for the ATS.

CONCLUDING REMARKS

The Southern Ocean is a commons of immense value to 

the world for science, wildlife, wilderness, and sustainable 

use of its marine resources. Antarctica helps to regulate the 

planet’s climate by acting as a heat sink, and the Antarctic Circumpolar Current links the world’s major oceans, 

driving global ocean circulation. The Antarctic merits protection for its uniqueness, beauty, biological diversity, and 

scientific value. It as an exceptional platform for carrying 

out globally significant science and recording the environmental health of the planet. Protecting the Antarctic region 

as a whole is important to ensuring a sustainable future 

for the global environment. The ASOC plays an important 

role in these efforts and looks forward to working with 

Antarctic Treaty System Parties, other ATS experts and observers, and scientists in the coming decades.
INTRODUCTION

Oceans (the high seas, the deep-ocean floor, and its subsoil) differ fundamentally from territories or spaces under national jurisdiction. Whereas the 

management of the latter rests in the responsibility of a given state, activities 

in the former are governed by international law, implemented and enforced by 

individual states or organs of the community of states as the case may be. It is to 

be assumed from this very fact that community interests in the proper management and preservation of the oceans are prevailing. In this chapter, I address the 

legal regime for common interests in the oceans focusing on the lessons learned 

from Antarctica.

STATUS OF THE AREA

The most evident expression of common interests in the oceans is to be 

found in the common heritage principle. The term was formally introduced by 

Malta in a note verbale on 18 August 1967 (UN Doc. A/6695) requesting the 

introduction of an agenda item into the agenda of the UN General Assembly: 

“Declaration and treaty concerning the reservation exclusively for peaceful purposes of the sea-bed and the ocean floor, underlying the seas beyond the limits 

of present national jurisdiction, and the use of their resources in the interests of 

mankind.”

The common heritage principle is an essential element, even the basis, of 

Part XI of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (1982) concerning the 

deep seabed, from where it has found its way into national legislation relating to 

seabed activities. It was also introduced in 1967 into the then beginning discussion on a legal regime for outer space and, to a lesser extent, later into the legal 

framework for Antarctica. The Agreement Relating to the Implementation of 

Part XI of the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea of 10 December 

1982 (Implementation Agreement) has, in fact, modified the deep-seabed regime 

somewhat, but without sacrificing the core of the principle.

Common Interests in the Ocean

Rüdiger Wolfrum

Rüdiger Wolfrum, Max Planck Institute for 

Comparative Public Law and International Law, 

Im Neuenheimer Feld 535/69120 Heidelberg, 

Germany. Correspondence: wolfrum@mpil.de.
282 • science diplomacy

In the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea the 

common heritage of mankind is set forth under different provisions. The Preamble refers to UN General Assembly Resolution 2749 (XXV) of 17 December 1970 (A/

RES/25/2749) in which the UN General Assembly solemnly declared, inter alia, that the area of the “sea-bed 

and ocean floor, and the subsoil thereof, beyond the limits 

of national jurisdiction . . . as well as the resources of the 

area, are the common heritage of mankind.” The principle 

is highlighted in Article 136 of the UN Convention on the 

Law of the Sea, according to which this area and its resources are the common heritage of mankind. The significance of this principle to the UN Convention on the Law 

of the Sea becomes evident through its Article 311, paragraph 6, which provides that there will be no amendments 

to the basic principle relating to the common heritage of 

mankind set forth in Article 136 of the UN Convention 

on the Law of the Sea. This attributes to Article 136 of 

the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea a special status above treaty law without qualifying it as jus cogens 

(i.e. peremptory international law). The common heritage 

principle as established by the UN Convention on the Law 

of the Sea contains several core elements, which will be 

discussed in the remainder of this chapter.

NONOCCUPATION/NONAPPROPRIATION

According to Article 137 of the UN Convention on 

the Law of the Sea, no state shall claim or exercise sovereignty or sovereign rights over any part of the seabed 

and the ocean floor or its resources, nor shall any state or 

natural or juridical person appropriate any part thereof. 

No such claim or exercise of either sovereignty rights or 

such appropriation shall be recognized.

The legal significance of the nonoccupation and the 

nonappropriation element of the common heritage principle concerning the high seas was minimal, as Article 2 

of the Geneva Convention on the High Seas already prohibited any occupation of the high seas. Equally, an appropriation by private entities is excluded.

This element of nonoccupation is also inherent in 

Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty, which excludes new 

territorial claims. It is a matter to be looked into as to 

whether individuals or entities may appropriate parts of 

Antarctica. In my view, Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty, 

albeit not explicitly, indirectly rules out the possibility of 

appropriation.

As far as the seabed beyond national jurisdiction is 

concerned, Article 136 of the UN Convention on the Law 

of the Sea goes a decisive step further. It states that no 

such claim or exercise of sovereignty or sovereign rights 

or such appropriation shall be recognized. Thus, the prohibition of occupation and appropriation has been given 

a legal status, the effect of which is similar to that of jus 

cogens. Moreover, Article 137 of the UN Convention on 

the Law of the Sea is phrased as an obligation of all states 

and not only the States Parties to the convention. One of 

the objectives of the common heritage principle is to preserve the present legal status of the international commons 

against all states and, as indicated by the term “appropriation,” all private persons. The latter has far-reaching 

consequences. It means that an illegal appropriation will 

not result in a title of ownership for the entity in question. States Parties are therefore obliged to modify their 

law on private ownership accordingly. This constitutes a 

viable mechanism to preserve the common interests in the 

resources of the deep seabed.

DUTY TO COOPERATE

The regime of utilization, furthermore, establishes the 

obligation of all states to cooperate internationally in the 

exploration and exploitation of the deep seabed. The institution through which such cooperation is to be achieved 

is the International Seabed Authority (ISA). A corresponding duty of states to cooperate in the peaceful exploration 

and use of outer space, including celestial bodies, has been 

formulated as a principle immanent in space law. Such an 

obligation to cooperate on deep-seabed and outer space 

matters surpasses the requirements of international law in 

general.

Although the obligation to cooperate constitutes a 

strong element in the Antarctic legal regime, it has not 

been institutionalized in a way similar to the one for the 

deep seabed. There is no question, however, of the interstate cooperation between states and between states and 

nongovernmental organizations at the Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meetings. Cooperation is a dominant feature 

of the Antarctic legal regime and even more evident in the 

day-to-day activities in Antarctica.

INTERNATIONAL MANAGEMENT

Apart from its negative side just described (i.e. nonoccupation and nonappropriation), the common heritage 

principle introduces a revolutionary new positive element 

into the law of the sea by indicating that the control and 
WOLFRUM / COMMON INTERESTS IN THE OCEAN • 283

management of the deep seabed is vested in mankind as a 

whole. Mankind, in turn, is represented as far as the deep 

seabed is concerned by the ISA, which is the organization 

through which States Parties organize and control deepseabed activities (Article 157, paragraph 1, of the UN 

Convention on the Law of the Sea). Thus, States Parties 

are meant to act as a kind of trustee on behalf of mankind 

as a whole. It is in this respect that the common heritage 

principle introduces a fundamental change in the legal regime governing the deep seabed. However, no other international agreement implementing the common heritage 

principle, not even the Agreement Governing the Activities 

of States on the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies (Moon 

Agreement) follows this approach.

A particular legal regime governs the use of the geostationary orbit. The legal regime governing the geostationary orbit involves the International Telecommunication 

Union (ITU) in the administration of that part of outer 

space, although to a comparatively lesser extent. Many 

scholars hold that the establishment of an international 

management system like the ISA is a necessary feature of 

the common heritage principle. I beg to differ. In my view, 

it is perfectly possible to serve the interests of the international community even without establishing an international organization.

REGULATED UTILIZATION

The key provision on the system of exploration and 

exploitation of the resources of the deep seabed (Article 

153 of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea) avoids 

referring to the freedom of such uses. Instead, it states that 

activities in the international seabed area shall be carried 

out by the Enterprise (an organ of the ISA) and, in association with the ISA, by States Parties or their nationals when 

sponsored by such states. In that respect, the deep-seabed 

mining regime differs from the one governing the high 

seas as well as the one governing outer space. On the high 

seas as well as in outer space all states enjoy freedoms, although such freedoms are to be exercised under the conditions laid down by international law. The main difference 

between the two regimes rests in the fact that the freedoms 

of the high seas are to be exercised with due regard to the 

interests of other states, so as to coordinate the exercise 

of such freedoms and to protect against negative effects 

from such exercise, whereas the restrictions imposed upon 

the utilization of the deep seabed are also meant to protect the interests of humankind. In particular, when the 

legal regime concerning the utilization of the deep seabed 

was discussed, it was emphasized that the common heritage principle was meant to replace the freedom-based approach that traditionally governs the use of the high seas.

The approach pursued by the Antarctic legal regime is 

somewhat different. The Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Environmental Protocol) 

and its annexes are much more concrete than Part XI of 

the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, which makes 

supplementary rules for deep-seabed activities necessary. 

In this respect, the so-called mining code of ISA is borrowed from the draft Convention on the Regulation of 

Mineral Resource Activities in Antarctica (CRAMRA) 

and the Environmental Protocol to the Antarctic Treaty. 

That was particularly true for the liability regime.

DISTRIBUTIVE EFFECT

Controversy over the utilization system concerning the 

deep seabed centered upon the question of how to make 

sure that deep-seabed mining would benefit all mankind. 

The term “benefit” mentioned in the UN Convention on 

the Law of the Sea should be understood broadly. What 

matters, on the one hand, is the immaterial benefit, i.e., 

the extension and deepening of mankind’s knowledge concerning the international commons. On the other hand, 

the benefit thought of is the one that can be derived from 

the use of the resources of the seabed and ocean floor as 

well as of outer space and its celestial bodies. According to 

Article 140 of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, 

activities in the deep-seabed area should be carried out for 

the benefit of mankind as a whole, taking into particular 

consideration the interests and needs of developing states. 

This article merely describes a legal framework from which 

no specific legal rights and obligations can yet be drawn. 

However, the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea formulates further, more specific obligations: equal participation of all states despite their technological or economic 

development, sharing of revenues, transfer of technology 

(so as to provide for equal participation), preferential 

treatment of developing countries, protection against adverse effects of deep-seabed mining on land-based mining, 

and cooperation. The UN Convention on the Law of the 

Sea attempts to achieve the objective of equal participation by the following means: (1) restrictions imposed upon 

potential deep-seabed miners, (2) affirmative action benefiting nonmining states, and (3) conferring of jurisdiction 

over deep-seabed mining activities on the ISA so that all 

States Parties can equally, though indirectly, participate 

therein. This utilization system represents an attempt to 
284 • science diplomacy

provide for distributive justice. It is in this respect that the 

Implementation Agreement has introduced modifications, 

in particular concerning a production policy and the obligation for a transfer of technology.

The introduction of the term “mankind” combined 

with the word “heritage” indicates that the interests of future generations have to be respected in making use of the 

international commons. More specifically, it requires that 

deep-seabed or outer space activities should avoid undue 

waste of resources and provides for the protection of the 

environment. An important part of the intertemporal dimension of the common heritage principle is the concept 

of sustainable development. Articles 145 and 209 of the 

UN Convention on the Law of the Sea provide for the protection of the marine environment against harmful effects 

of deep-seabed mining.

This concept of sustainable development is well enshrined in the Antarctic legal system. The Environmental 

Protocol, including its annexes, and the Convention on 

Antarctic Marine Living Resources are based thereon.

HIGH SEAS AND MARITIME AREAS 

UNDER NATIONAL JURISDICTION

Although the common interests in the oceans are most 

explicitly expressed as far as the utilization of the deep 

seabed is concerned, they influence the legal regime for 

the high seas as well as for maritime areas under national 

jurisdiction. This point will be highlighted regarding fisheries and the protection of the marine environment.

According to Article 61, paragraph 2, of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, coastal states shall ensure 

that the maintenance of the living resources in their exclusive economic zones is not endangered by overexploitation. Paragraph 3 continues to state that populations 

should be maintained and restored at levels whereby they 

can produce the maximum sustainable yield. In short, 

coastal states are entrusted with the management of the 

living resources in their exclusive economic zone, but they 

are not totally free in that respect. They are under an obligation to manage fisheries in a way that the resources 

in question will contribute to the nourishment of their 

populations or the populations of other states. The fact 

that coastal states are not totally free in their own policies is highlighted in Article 73, paragraph 1, of the UN 

Convention on the Law of the Sea, which indicates that 

they may only enforce such national laws and regulations 

on fisheries adopted in conformity with the convention. 

At last instance the implementation of this obligation is 

monitored by the International Tribunal for the Law of 

the Sea.

As far as the high seas are concerned, the flag states 

are originally mandated to ensure the sustainable management of the living resources (Article 119 of the convention). The UN Agreement Relating to the Conservation 

and Management of Straddling Fish Stocks and Migratory Fish Stocks has significantly clarified this approach, 

reflecting the common interest in a management regime 

dedicated to sustainability as the precautionary principle.

Part XII of the UN Convention on the Law of the 

Sea, which deals with the protection and preservation of 

the marine environment, again clearly mirrors the common interests in the oceans. According to Article 192 of 

the convention, all states have the obligation to protect 

and preserve the marine environment. This obligation is 

all-encompassing; it is further detailed in Part XII, which 

describes the distribution of the functions between coastal 

states, port states, and flag states.

The same approach applies to Antarctica. There the 

main responsibility rests upon the state whose nationality 

the expedition or the station concerned represents.

CONCLUSION

Let me conclude by stating the particularities and 

strengths of the Antarctic legal regime in pursuing common interest. These are (1) the flexibility of the governance 

system, (2) concentration on science and the protection of 

the environment, and (3) reliance on the interchange of 

science, politics, and law.

It has been indicated that the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM) and its secretariat were inadequate 

to deal with the complexities of Antarctica. I venture to 

disagree. The ATCM has proved to be remarkably flexible and effective if one compares the situation today with 

the one 20 years back. Such a metamorphosis would have 

been impossible had the original signatories decided to 

establish an international organization. To underline my 

point, I recommend considering the G8 Summit, which 

follows exactly the same pattern, although I doubt that 

its founders were aware of the Antarctic legal system. 

Modern international law is moving away from the establishing new international organizations. Instead, more 

informal fora are established, such as meetings of States 

Parties, some of them enjoying more substantial functions 

than traditional international organizations. The ATCM, 
WOLFRUM / COMMON INTERESTS IN THE OCEAN • 285

in my view, is a forerunner of this development, although 

it is rarely considered as such.

I see the second strength of the ATCM in the concentration of the Antarctic legal system on science and protection 

of the environment. This has not been duplicated elsewhere. 

Both objectives serve common interest, which makes it easier to solve conflicts that may and have developed.

Finally, I see the particularity and strength of the Antarctic legal system in its reliance on the interchange of 

science, politics, and law. Attempts to follow this pattern 

have been made in the context of the law of the sea with 

the Continental Shelf Commission. But there the integration was not well thought through. This interplay between 

science, politics, and law is the most valuable asset of the 

Antarctic legal regime—its primary export article—and it 

should be nourished and protected.

INTRODUCTION

The Antarctic Treaty System (ATS) is one of the most successful arrangements created during the twentieth century to address the need for governance 

at the international level and, therefore, to supply governance in a society that 

lacks a government in the sense of a supranational body endowed with the authority to make decisions binding on its individual members. This makes the 

ATS a subject of intense interest not only to those concerned with the fate of 

Antarctica itself but also to those interested in addressing a wide range of other 

issues generating a need for governance at the international level.

In this chapter, I take the case of the ATS as a point of departure for a 

broader assessment of issues relating to the governance of international spaces 

or, in other words, regions and resources that lie beyond the jurisdictional reach 

of individual states in international society. My argument proceeds as follows. 

The first substantive section deals with the nature of international spaces and 

provides some summary information concerning their location and extent. The 

next section discusses the legal and political status of international spaces and 

introduces emerging concepts in this realm, such as the “common heritage of 

humankind.” The sources of the need for governance regarding human activities taking place in international spaces or affecting international spaces are 

the focus of the following section. A discussion of the options for supplying 

governance for international spaces with particular reference to innovative approaches emerging as human uses of these spaces rise is the theme of the penultimate section. The concluding section provides a brief commentary on future 

directions in the governance of international spaces.

WHAT ARE INTERNATIONAL SPACES, 

AND HOW EXTENSIVE ARE THEY?

International spaces are regions and resources that lie beyond the reach of the 

legal and political jurisdiction of the individual members of international society. 

Outer space and sizable segments of the world’s oceans belong to this category, at 

Governing International Spaces: 

Antarctica and Beyond

Oran R. Young

Oran R. Young, Bren School of Environmental 

Science and Management, University of California (Santa Barbara),4518 Bren Hall, Santa Barbara, CA 93106-5131, USA. Correspondence: 

Oran.Young@gmail.com.
288 • science diplomacy

least in part, by virtue of their remoteness and the limited 

capacity of states to exercise jurisdiction in these relatively 

remote regions. (Nevertheless, states can and do assert jurisdiction over their nationals operating in international 

spaces aboard ships, aircraft, spacecraft, and so forth.) But 

as these examples themselves suggest, international spaces 

are in large measure socially constructed. Technological 

advances can and often do increase the capacity of states 

to exercise authority in remote regions. States may assert 

jurisdictional claims in far away places (e.g., Antarctica), 

even in cases where their capacity to exercise authority 

is severely limited. The expansion of jurisdictional claims 

sometimes reflects the realities of economic and political 

influence more than any compelling rationale rooted in the 

requirements of sound management or sustainability. The 

emergence of coastal state jurisdiction over exclusive economic zones extending seaward 200 nautical miles from 

the coast, for example, owes much to such economic and 

political pressures. Shifts in prevailing attitudes and discourses constitute yet another force capable of generating 

changes in the scope of jurisdictional claims. The development during the latter decades of the twentieth century 

of the concept of the “common heritage of humankind,” 

for instance, has played a role in curbing some efforts to 

expand the jurisdictional claims of states at the expense of 

international spaces.

For the most part, we have construed the category 

of international spaces to encompass spatially delimited 

material entities like the oceans, outer space, and (with 

some reservations) Antarctica. Because these entities are 

essentially fixed, the category of what I will call traditional 

international spaces is finite. More recently, technological 

advances have opened up a range of resources that raise 

similar concerns about governance, though they are not 

material entities like Antarctica or the oceans. The category of what I will call “new” international spaces includes such entities as the electromagnetic spectrum, the 

stratospheric ozone layer, the Earth’s climate system, and, 

arguably, the Internet. As these examples suggest, new international spaces are more difficult to locate in spatial 

terms. It is likely that additional members of this category 

will emerge with the growth of knowledge and the development of new technologies over time. Yet these resources 

are sufficiently similar to traditional international spaces 

with regard to the issues of governance they raise to make 

it appropriate to include them in the discussion to follow.

The oceans cover about 70% of the Earth’s surface. 

Subtracting the exclusive economic zones, which collectively account for 10%–12% of the oceans and are now 

subject to the jurisdiction of coastal states, leaves about 

60% of the Earth’s surface as international space. Antarctica is a special case because most of the continent is 

subject to (sometimes overlapping) territorial claims articulated by seven states during the first half of the twentieth century. But the 1959 Antarctic Treaty established a 

regime under which the parties have managed the south 

polar region for all practical purposes as an international 

space over the last 50 years. The prospect of any change 

in the basic character of this arrangement occurring during the foreseeable future is remote. Since the Antarctic 

continent covers a little over 6% of the Earth’s surface, we 

can conclude that something like two-thirds of the surface 

of the Earth currently belongs to the category of international spaces. The areal extent of outer space is harder 

to determine because of ambiguities regarding both its 

inner and outer boundaries. States now exercise jurisdiction over the air space above their territories. But there 

is a lack of precision regarding where air space ends and 

(outer) space begins. Similarly, space has no clear outer 

boundary. Functionally, the outer boundary of space is 

determined by the capacity of humans to use space or to 

act in ways that affect space in such forms as altering 

the Earth’s climate system. Defined in this way, the outer 

boundary of space is subject to change over relatively 

short periods of time.

Thus, the extent of traditional international spaces is 

great. The issue of extent is more complex with regard 

to new international spaces. How can we characterize the 

Earth’s climate system, much less the Internet, in areal 

terms? Even the electromagnetic spectrum and the stratospheric ozone layer are dynamic, so that it is impossible to 

calculate their extent in a manner comparable to calculations of the extent of the oceans or Antarctica. Equally if 

not more important is the fact that the significance of the 

new international spaces is functional rather than spatial. 

So long as the stratospheric ozone layer inhibits the penetration of UVB radiation, its spatial characteristics are 

unimportant. Much the same is true of the Earth’s climate 

system whose significance lies in the regulation of radiative 

forcing rather than in any measure of its size or extent. As 

we move toward a growing concern with the governance 

of new international spaces, therefore, questions regarding the extent of international spaces are likely to become 

less prominent. This may have implications for efforts to 

draw lessons from experiences in governing traditional international spaces that are relevant to addressing issues 

of growing importance regarding the governance of new 

international spaces.
young / GOVERNING INTERNATIONAL SPACES • 289

WHAT IS THE LEGAL AND POLITICAL 

STATUS OF INTERNATIONAL SPACES?

International spaces are widely construed as belonging to the class of things known to international law and 

international politics as res communis, or common property. This ensures that they are not subject to the assertion 

of property rights or exclusive jurisdiction on the part of 

individual members of international society. But the doctrine of res communis has two major variants that differ 

sharply in their implications for governance. One variant 

asserts that the region or resource in question is open to 

entry (and exploitation) on the part of any member of 

international society acting on its own authority with no 

obligation to obtain the consent of the other members of 

this society. The other variant asserts that the members 

of international society have the authority as a group to 

promulgate and implement rules governing the use of international spaces on the part of individual members and 

perhaps even the authority to approve or reject specific 

plans on the part of members to use a region or resource. 

This variant may also allow members of international society, as the idea of the common heritage of humankind 

suggests, to lay claim to a share of any proceeds arising 

from uses of international spaces on the part of individual 

members.

It is easy to see that the two variants can and often 

will generate different outcomes when applied to specific 

situations. So long as the resources are plentiful and not 

subject to depletion or degradation as a result of the actions of individual users, the two variants may produce 

similar results. But the first variant of the doctrine of 

res communis can lead directly to situations exhibiting 

the characteristics of the tragedy of the commons as the 

demands of individual users of the resources grow. It is 

this realization that has led communities at other levels 

of social organization to adopt, formally or informally, 

a variety of rules applying to uses of common property 

and to develop the social and intellectual capital associated with the idea of governing the commons (Ostrom 

et al., 2002). Familiar as this perspective is at the local 

level, however, it is a development that some powerful actors have resisted at the international level. The views of 

many American policymakers and industrialists regarding 

access to the mineral resources of the deep seabed constitute a prominent example. Nevertheless, it is probably 

correct to say that we are witnessing today a marked shift 

in the form of the evolution of customary law toward 

acceptance of the second variant of the doctrine of res 

communis with regard to issues involving the governance 

of international spaces.

Once we accept the proposition that there is a need for 

governance in guiding human uses of international spaces 

and observe that governance systems are, in fact, emerging 

for a variety of these spaces, the distinction between constitutive rules and operating rules comes into focus (Ostrom, 1990). Constitutive rules provide broad frameworks 

within which human activities occurring in or affecting a 

particular region or resource are permitted to go forward. 

Constitutions are familiar arrangements that perform this 

role at the national level. The most extensive constitutive 

arrangement now in place for an international space is the 

set of rules and procedures articulated in the 1982 UN 

Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS). As it has 

evolved from the initial Antarctic Treaty of 1959, the Antarctic Treaty System has come to assume increasingly the 

role of a constitutive arrangement covering human activities in the high southern latitudes. Despite the existence of 

specific agreements relating to space (e.g., the 1967 Treaty 

on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, including the Moon 

and Other Celestial Bodies, or Outer Space Treaty), the 

constitutive system for space remains underdeveloped. 

Not surprisingly, a critical topic for debate today concerns 

the extent to which we should attach high priority to developing or strengthening constitutive arrangements for a 

variety of international spaces and, in particular, what I 

have called new international spaces.

The existence of a constitutive arrangement is important, but it is not sufficient to meet the needs for governance 

relating to any specific international space. Constitutive 

arrangements are frameworks. They provide a necessary 

foundation for the supply of governance, but by themselves 

they do not and cannot meet needs for governance with regard to specific issues. Ocean governance again provides a 

clear illustration (Oude Elferink, 2005). Important as it is 

in constitutive terms, UNCLOS does not deal in a substantive way with a range of concrete issues regarding matters 

like marine shipping, ocean dumping, pollution from landbased sources, the exploitation of highly migratory stocks 

of fish, and so forth. These matters require the development of operating rules through the actions of authorized 

bodies like the International Maritime Organization or 

the development of issue-specific agreements, such as the 

1972 Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution 

by Dumping of Wastes and Other Matter (London Convention) and the 1995 UN Straddling Fish Stocks Agreement dealing with fish stocks that are highly migratory 
290 • science diplomacy

or cut across boundaries between adjacent exclusive economic zones or between exclusive economic zones and the 

high seas. Whereas constitutive arrangements are meant 

to be relatively long-lasting and stable (though not beyond interpretation to meet changing circumstances), operating rules are intended to be more adjustable, shifting 

over time as existing activities change and new activities 

become prominent. In a well-functioning governance system, constitutive arrangements and operating rules operate in tandem, providing both stability and flexibility in 

addressing shifting complexes of human activities. Such 

systems are comparatively rudimentary with regard to the 

governance of international spaces. Even the governance 

system for the oceans is primitive compared with parallel 

systems that have evolved to deal with needs for governance arising in national spaces. The governance systems 

for most other international spaces are less developed. But 

as human activities occurring in or affecting international 

spaces expand, questions pertaining to the governance of 

international spaces are destined to emerge as increasingly 

important items on the international agenda.

WHAT ARE THE SOURCES OF NEEDS 

FOR GOVERNANCE REGARDING 

INTERNATIONAL SPACES?

Governance emerges as an issue of public concern 

when the actions of humans give rise to unsustainable 

practices (e.g., depletion of stocks of living resources), 

interfere with one another’s goal-directed activities (e.g., 

degradation of neighboring properties arising from the actions of nearby property owners), or lead to more general 

problems of public order that are harmful to members of 

the community (e.g., breaches of the peace or acts of aggression). Typically, the need for governance is low when 

the number of users is small relative to the availability of 

resources or the density of users is low in a given space. 

There is little need to develop regulatory arrangements to 

avoid the tragedy of the commons, for example, when individual users are few in number and harvesters have a 

limited capacity to capture or consume living resources. 

But the need for governance grows, often exponentially, as 

human numbers and human capacities grow.

Needs for governance regarding international spaces 

arise from several distinct sources (Young, 1999). We are 

apt to take for granted the existence of public order as a 

precondition for success in most human endeavors. But 

because international spaces lie beyond the reach of the 

jurisdiction of states in a realm that lacks a government 

in the ordinary sense, we cannot adopt a similar attitude 

regarding these spaces. It is therefore easy to understand 

the concern for the development of alternative means for 

ensuring the maintenance of public order in many efforts 

to devise governance systems for international spaces. 

Both the 1959 Antarctic Treaty and the 1967 Outer Space 

Treaty, for instance, contain specific provisions regarding 

peaceful uses of these areas. The Antarctic Treaty specifies that human actors are to use Antarctica for peaceful 

purposes only. Both this treaty and the Outer Space Treaty 

contain provisions prohibiting the deployment of nuclear 

weapons or weapons of mass destruction. Given the importance of naval forces in the arsenals of powerful states, 

no such treatment of the world’s oceans is politically feasible. Even so, UNCLOS does contain a provision (Article 

88) stating that “the high seas shall be reserved for peaceful 

purposes,” and the convention does include a number of 

provisions (e.g., those pertaining to transit passage) spelling out rules designed to govern the activities of naval vessels and the use of marine systems for military purposes.

The new international spaces may seem less susceptible to problems of public order. Yet it would be naïve 

to suppose these spaces are immune from the impacts of 

hostile actions intended to harm or weaken unfriendly 

human actors. The concerns that led to the negotiation 

of the 1977 Convention on the Prohibition of Military or 

Any Other Hostile Use of Environmental Modification 

Techniques offer testimony to this fact. Advances in technology over the intervening decades have enhanced the capacity of states and a variety of nonstate actors to engage 

in hostile acts regarding new international spaces. Rising 

concerns regarding hostile or aggressive uses of the Internet offer a prominent example.

Assuming we are able to meet the need for public 

order regarding international spaces in a manner that 

allows normal human activities to proceed, a variety of 

other needs for governance come into focus. Some of these 

have to do with familiar problems of depletion arising 

from unregulated harvesting of living resources or of congestion arising from intensive uses of flow resources like 

favorable shipping routes or the electromagnetic spectrum 

(Brown et al., 1977). Technological advances can alleviate, if not eliminate, some of these problems. Increases in 

the technological sophistication of broadcasting systems, 

for example, have made it possible for large numbers of 

users to exploit the electromagnetic spectrum for purposes 

of broadcasting without interfering with one another’s activities. But many cases present classic problems of governance requiring the introduction of mechanisms like catch 

shares and rules of the road to allow users to make use of 
young / GOVERNING INTERNATIONAL SPACES • 291

the resources of international spaces in a manner that is 

sustainable and efficient. Parallel challenges arise in cases 

where security of tenure is an important factor in motivating prospective users to make the investments required to 

use the resources of international spaces. Licenses to use 

broadcast frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum, for 

instance, would be of little value if they were not secure 

against encroachment on the part of outsiders. Similar 

considerations underlie the concerns of those who have 

advocated the creation of a system of secure licenses, if not 

full-scale property rights, in segments of the deep seabed 

as a precondition for success in the development of deepseabed mining (Eckert, 1979). In all these cases, the challenge is to find ways to address demands for governance in 

international spaces in the absence of anything resembling 

a world government.

A somewhat different class of problems encompasses 

situations in which there are existing or anticipated conflicts among alternative uses of international spaces. Two 

types of conflicts, both of which loom large in efforts to 

govern international spaces today, are worth distinguishing in this connection. In the most direct case, a decision to 

designate an area for a particular use can have the effect, 

implicitly if not explicitly, of prohibiting other uses of the 

area. Classic cases involve trade-offs between consumptive uses and nonconsumptive uses. The decision to set 

aside the 1988 Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic 

Mineral Resource Activities and to move forward with the 

adoption of the 1991 Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Environmental Protocol), 

for instance, is a development of far-reaching importance 

precisely because designating Antarctica as a “natural 

reserve” means banning the extraction of both nonfuel 

minerals and hydrocarbons as a matter of policy. Debates 

about the merits of establishing large marine protected 

areas in various parts of the world’s oceans prohibiting 

or severely limiting traditional activities like fishing raise 

many of the same concerns. Even with regard to major 

consumptive uses, trade-offs involving conflicts of use can 

and often do give rise to needs for governance. Interference between the operations of fishers and shippers in marine systems is a case in point.

Short of direct conflicts between alternative uses, the 

occurrence of a wide range of externalities or unintended 

side effects has become an important source of the need 

for governance regarding international spaces. These 

are situations in which the activities of those engaged in 

normal and lawful activities generate side effects that are 

harmful to resources that are valuable to others. Common 

examples involve the harmful effects of trawl fisheries 

on benthic communities and of commercial shipping on 

marine mammals. A major development in this regard, 

which poses particularly challenging problems of governance regarding international spaces, centers on what we 

have come to think of as the destruction or degradation 

of ecosystem services resulting from a variety of human 

activities. The removal of key species can cause large ecosystems to undergo dramatic changes or even to collapse. 

Intentional or accidental discharges of oil at sea can produce far-reaching environmental impacts. The rise of the 

concept of ecosystem-based management with its associated intellectual capital has drawn increasing attention to 

this class of problems and the need to create governance 

systems to address them (McLeod and Leslie, 2009).

As these examples suggest, some externalities arise 

from activities occurring within international spaces 

whose impacts are felt within the same spaces. But there 

is another class of externalities in which activities occurring wholly or largely outside international spaces have 

impacts that are felt within these spaces. Prominent cases 

include the growth of dead zones at sea, the thinning of 

the stratospheric ozone layer, and rising concentrations of 

greenhouse gases in the Earth’s atmosphere. Dead zones 

are largely products of agricultural practices taking place 

in national spaces and often far from the coast. The production and consumption of ozone-depleting substances 

arose in response to the demand for a range of products 

on the part of consumers located within national spaces. 

Emissions of greenhouse gases are, for the most part, byproducts of human activities taking place within national 

spaces. The protection of international spaces from the 

impacts of these externalities poses a particularly serious 

challenge for governance. Decisions about the regulation 

of agricultural practices, the production and consumption of ozone-depleting substances, and the emission of 

greenhouse gases are all made within national governance 

systems in which international spaces are essentially unrepresented. No one represents the stratospheric ozone 

layer or the Earth’s climate system in the policymaking of 

states. The citizens of individual states have an interest in 

what happens to international spaces like the stratospheric 

ozone layer or the climate system, and it is perfectly possible for states to band together to devise international governance systems designed to regulate externalities of this 

sort. Nevertheless, the demand for governance is different 

in such cases than it is in situations where users of fish 

stocks, shipping lanes, or the electromagnetic spectrum 

must join forces to devise governance systems that allow 

them all to benefit from sustainable uses of the relevant 

resources.
292 • science diplomacy

WHAT ARE THE OPTIONS FOR 

SUPPLYING GOVERNANCE FOR 

INTERNATIONAL SPACES?

The specific mechanisms needed to govern human 

uses of international spaces differ from case to case. Yet 

some useful generalizations are possible in this realm. In 

every case, it is desirable to establish a combination of 

constitutive provisions, in the sense of broad framework 

arrangements intended to provide an enduring matrix 

within which to address a range of more-specific issues, 

and operating rules, in the sense of more-detailed regulatory arrangements dealing with substantive and often 

functionally specific issues. The relationship between 

UNCLOS as a constitutive arrangement and the specific 

provisions of the 1972 London Convention dealing with 

the discharge of wastes at sea illustrates this proposition. It 

is always desirable, moreover, to strike a balance between 

stability in the sense of providing governance systems with 

some measure of staying power and flexibility or agility in 

the sense of endowing these systems with the capacity to 

adapt to changing circumstances. All governance systems 

require some administrative capacity in the sense of organizational arrangements that can make decisions, apply 

these decisions to the complexities of concrete situations, 

address matters of compliance, provide authoritative interpretations in cases where parties disagree regarding the 

meaning of specific provisions, and mobilize the funding 

needed to operate the system.

The Antarctic Treaty of 1959, the Outer Space Treaty 

of 1967, and the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the 

Sea are all constitutive in the sense that they seek to establish broad frameworks covering human activities relevant 

to the international spaces in question. But they are not 

equally effective in terms of providing foundations for the 

development of full-fledged governance systems. The Antarctic Treaty System is particularly evolved in these terms. 

The Antarctic Treaty itself has proven successful both in 

creating a mechanism for making collective decisions 

about the south polar region and in laying the basis for the 

maintenance of public order in the area. With the addition 

of the 1991 Environmental Protocol, the parties to the ATS 

simplified the governance problem by designating Antarctica a “natural reserve, devoted to peace and science,” and 

explicitly banning mining or the extraction of nonrenewable resources in the area. The effect of these actions has 

been to avoid potential conflicts among competing uses 

and to minimize governance issues arising from competition among users of material resources. The protocol has 

created a basis for developing a variety of operating rules 

pertaining to matters like waste disposal, the conduct of 

environmental impact assessments, the establishment of 

protected natural areas, and the promulgation of liability 

rules. It established a Committee on Environmental Protection to administer the resultant governance system. 

The functional integration of the Scientific Committee on 

Antarctic Research (SCAR), officially a body belonging 

to the International Council of Science (ICSU), into this 

governance system has helped substantially in addressing 

the need to provide advance notice of changing conditions 

calling for the development of new operating rules or the 

adaptation of existing ones. This does not mean that this 

governance system is immune to the impact of stress or 

able to operate without challenges (Young, 2010: chap. 3). 

Many complex issues remain regarding efforts to practice 

ecosystem-based management under the terms of the Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living 

Resources dealing with consumptive uses of fish and other 

living resources. Some of the most severe threats facing 

Antarctica during the foreseeable future will arise from 

large-scale occurrences, such as the thinning of stratospheric ozone, climate change, and ocean acidification, 

that are largely beyond the control of the ATS.

By comparison, the governance systems we have put 

in place for the world’s oceans and for space are less adequate to meet emerging needs for governance in these international spaces. The UNCLOS does provide a constitutive 

system for the oceans, and more or less elaborate operating 

rules have emerged to address a range of functionally specific activities like shipping, fishing, deep-seabed mining, 

tourism, and environmental protection (Oude Elferink, 

2005). But the capacity of these arrangements to meet the 

rising demand for governance is limited. Despite the provisions of Article 88 of UNCLOS, it is an illusion to suppose 

that the high seas are reserved for peaceful purposes. The 

track records of most regional fisheries management organizations leave a lot to be desired. The governance system 

for the deep seabed, rooted in Part XI of UNCLOS, has 

never become operational and remains a bone of contention among powerful actors in the system. Major issues relating to the management of marine shipping are looming 

on the horizon. It is hard to make progress toward implementing the ideal of ecosystem-based management in the 

oceans because of the effects of externalities arising both 

from the exploitation of marine resources (e.g., commercially valuable fish stocks) and from land-based activities 

affecting marine systems (e.g., contaminants associated 

with agricultural production). What is more, the existing 

governance system for the oceans has little or no capacity 

to stem the impacts of a variety of large-scale processes, 
young / GOVERNING INTERNATIONAL SPACES • 293

like ocean acidification, arising from human activities having nothing to do with the use of ocean resources. There is 

a need for a major upgrade in the governance system for 

the oceans treated as an international space.

The case of space poses yet another set of problems. 

The 1967 Outer Space Treaty does create a constitutive 

arrangement for outer space in the sense of providing 

for public order; banning the establishment of military 

bases, installations, or fortifications on the Moon and 

other celestial bodies; and prohibiting the extension of 

jurisdictional claims on the part of states to these bodies. But there is a disconnect between these constitutive 

arrangements for space and the development of operating rules dealing with a variety of functional concerns. 

Some of these concerns (e.g., the protection of the stratospheric ozone layer, the control of climate change, and the 

use of the electromagnetic spectrum) may lie outside the 

scope of the 1967 treaty. Others (e.g., the management of 

space debris and the development of space-based forms 

of geoengineering intended to address the problem of climate change) involve issues unforeseen during the 1960s. 

There have been some successes in meeting specific needs 

for governance relating to atmospheric issues. The ozone 

regime is rightly regarded as a success story, and efforts 

to address a range of issues relating to broadcasting have 

met with substantial success. Still, we are left in the case of 

space with a fragmented or incoherent governance system 

in which the constitutive arrangements do not encompass 

efforts to address specific matters, such as broadcasting 

and climate change, and the functionally specific regimes, 

such as the arrangement for the stratospheric ozone layer, 

do not serve to strengthen the constitutive framework. A 

fundamental question in this realm is whether to make an 

effort to link these arrangements together, thereby creating 

a governance system in which the whole is greater than the 

sum of the parts.

Turning to the class of new international spaces, the 

first question regarding the supply of governance concerns 

the relative merits of assimilating these spaces into existing governance systems versus treating them as separate 

cases with regard to issues of governance. As the preceding paragraph suggests, we could treat matters relating to 

the stratospheric ozone layer, the Earth’s climate system, 

and the electromagnetic spectrum as issues of concern 

to space and seek to subsume them within an expanded 

constitutive system for space when it comes to matters of 

governance (Soroos, 1997). For the most part, however, 

this is not the approach that the international community has adopted in efforts to supply governance for these 

new international spaces. The constitutive provisions of 

the Outer Space Treaty have little bearing on the operation of the ozone regime and the climate regime. The efforts of bodies like the International Telecommunication 

Union (ITU), the World Administrative Radio Conferences 

(WARCs), and the International Telecommunications Satellite Consortium (INTELSAT) to regulate broadcasting 

and to manage uses of the electromagnetic spectrum more 

generally have little to do with the overarching provisions 

of the Outer Space Treaty. What lies ahead in this realm? 

As things stand now, it is hard to foresee any serious move 

to integrate efforts to address a variety of specific issues 

like climate change or the use of the electromagnetic spectrum into some overarching constitutive arrangement for 

space. Yet this could change as we find ourselves thinking 

more about matters like the management of space debris 

or geoengineering that pose important questions relating 

to the provision of public order (Royal Society, 2009).

WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

The challenges of governing international spaces highlight the importance of finding ways to address needs for 

governance in the absence of government (Rosenau and 

Czempiel, 1992). As human activities occurring in or affecting areas that lie beyond the jurisdiction of states intensify and as new international spaces become objects 

of attention, needs for governance in this realm are destined to grow. For this reason, it is desirable to identify 

and draw attention to success stories in governing international spaces. The Antarctic Treaty System has not only 

maintained public order in the south polar region over the 

last 50 years, it also has demonstrated a capacity to come 

to terms with major issues regarding competing uses of 

Antarctica’s natural resources and ecosystems. The ozone 

regime has proven successful in bringing about drastic 

reductions in the production and consumption of a large 

number of ozone-depleting substances; it also has brought 

about greater reductions in emissions of greenhouse gases 

than the climate regime itself (Velders et al., 2007).

Yet pointing to these successes provides no basis for 

adopting an attitude of complacency regarding the governance of international spaces. The existing arrangements 

leave much to be desired in meeting current needs for governance. They are even more inadequate when it comes 

to tackling growing challenges like the disruption of marine ecosystems caused by industrial-scale fishing and the 

dramatic consequences of climate change and associated 

phenomena, such as ocean acidification. What is needed 

in this connection is an approach grounded in the idea of 
294 • science diplomacy

stewardship, based on a tighter integration of constitutive 

arrangements and operating rules, and alert to the need 

for adaptive capacity to cope with changes that are often 

nonlinear, frequently abrupt, and commonly irreversible 

(Chapin et al., 2009). We have made progress in addressing such issues, but the challenges before us are great when 

it comes to achieving governance without governance of 

the sort required to meet the need for stewardship in the 

use of international spaces.

LITERATURE CITED

Brown, S., N. W. Cornell, L. L. Fabian, and E. Brown-Weiss. 1977. Regimes for the Ocean, Outer Space, and Weather. Washington, D.C.: 

The Brookings Institution.

Chapin, F. S., G. P. Kofinas, and C. Folke, eds. 2009. Principles of Ecosystem Stewardship: Resilience-Based Natural Resource Management in a Changing World. New York: Springer.

Eckert, R. 1979. The Enclosure of Ocean Resources. Stanford: Hoover 

Institution Press.

McLeod, K., and H. Leslie, eds. 2009. Ecosystem-Based Management for 

the Oceans. Washington, D.C.: Island Press.

Ostrom, E. 1990. Governing the Commons: The Evolution of Institutions 

for Collective Action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Ostrom, E., T. Dietz, N. Dolsak, P. C. Stern, S. Stonich, and U. W. Elke, 

eds. 2002. The Drama of the Commons. Washington, D.C.: National Academies Press.

Oude Elferink, A. G., ed. 2005. Stability and Change in the Law of the 

Sea: The Role of the LOS Convention. Amsterdam: Brill.

Rosenau, J. N., and E.-O. Czempiel. 1992. Governance without Government: Order and Change in World Politics. Cambridge: Cambridge 

University Press.

Royal Society. 2009. Geoengineering the Climate: Science, Governance 

and Uncertainty. RS Policy Document 10/09–RS 1639. September. 

London: Royal Society.

Soroos, M. S. 1997. The Endangered Atmosphere: Preserving a Global 

Commons. Columbia, S.C.: University of South Carolina Press.

Velders, J. M., S. O. Andersen, J. S. Daniel, D. W. Fahey, and M. McFarland. 2007. The Importance of the Montreal Protocol in Protecting Climate. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 

of the United States of America, 104: 4814–4819.

Young, O. R. 1999. Governance in World Affairs. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell 

University Press.

———. 2010. Institutional Dynamics: Emergent Patterns in International Environmental Governance. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.
This daylong workshop, convened 3 December 2009, provided an 

opportunity for informal discussion among approximately 40 participants in the Antarctic Treaty Summit focusing on insights from 

experience with Antarctic governance over the last 50 years that have 

current and legacy value for all humanity and particularly for those concerned 

with the transformative change now occurring in the Arctic.

The objectives of the workshop were to examine parallel or differing experiences regarding the development and implementation of the Antarctic Treaty 

System and Arctic governance systems, lessons learned from Antarctic governance that may be applicable to current efforts to deal with governance needs 

in the Arctic, and any other inferences to be drawn from the political, legal, or 

ecological management of the Antarctic that are relevant to Arctic governance.

The workshop included four separate sessions, each starting with several 

speakers invited to initiate the discussion by offering reflections derived from the 

presentations and discussion at the summit:

1. general insights from the Antarctic Treaty Summit: Robert Corell, Vladimir 

Golitsyn, and Marie Jacobsson;

2. the relevance of the Antarctic experience with regulatory measures in addressing emerging Arctic issues: Peiqing Guo and John Hocevar;

3. the role of monitoring, reporting, and verification systems in the Antarctic as 

they pertain to the Arctic: Anders Karlquist and Yeadong Kim; and

4. lessons from the Antarctic experience that may help to strengthen the science/

policy interface in the Arctic: Fred Roots and Paul Berkman.

Session 1 began with a synthesis of the summit presentations made earlier 

that week. History played a crucial role in the development of policy in the 

Antarctic. The 1959 Antarctic Treaty, for example, was influenced by the cold 

war, leading signatories to find common ground in the importance of science. 

History also played a role in the Arctic, but it did not culminate in the signing 

of an Arctic Treaty. More recent developments, including climate change and 

globalization, are now affecting Arctic policy.

Workshop on Arctic Governance: Drawing 

Lessons from the Antarctic Experience

Francesca Cava, David Monsma, and 

Oran R. Young

Francesca Cava and David Monsma, Aspen 

Institute, One Dupont Circle, NW, Suite 700, 

Washington, D.C. 20036-1133, USA. Oran 

Young, Donald Bren School of Environmental Science and Management, University of 

California, Santa Barbara, California 93106-

5131, USA. Correspondence: francesca.cava@

aspeninst.org.
296 • science diplomacy

History is not the only factor that differentiates the 

two polar regions with regard to governance. There are 

significant geographical, political, and social differences. 

The Arctic is an ocean surrounded by land; the Antarctic 

is a continent surrounded by an ocean. Governance in the 

High Arctic is an extension of the sovereign jurisdictions 

of five coastal states; governance in the Antarctic features 

a multilateral treaty that does not support specific sovereign claims. The Antarctic has no permanent residents; the 

Arctic has significant numbers of culturally distinct indigenous peoples as well as long-term settlers. Another major 

difference between the poles involves matters of security. 

By treaty, the Antarctic is demilitarized and denuclearized. 

In contrast, Arctic nations have significant security interests that extend into the Arctic. These differences, summarized in Table 1, make it essential to exercise extreme care 

in seeking to transfer experience regarding governance 

from one polar region to the other.

Session 2 extended these general findings through a 

more focused discussion of regulatory issues in the polar 

regions. The Antarctic Treaty System has grown into a 

comprehensive governance system in the Antarctic. It 

promotes the use of Antarctica exclusively for peaceful 

purposes and emphasizes the role of scientific investigation. This has resulted in a dramatic expansion of regional 

research and in insights leading to historic advances in 

environmental protection, such as the response to the 

discovery of the ozone hole through the development of 

the 1987 Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete 

the Ozone Layer. Antarctic science also has fostered efforts to achieve the common good rather than promoting 

the interests of individual nations. The conduct of science 

has promoted international cooperation and the development of shared infrastructure; it has provided a venue for 

states to work together outside the constraints of national 

policies. Participants in the workshop recommended that 

science play a similar role in the Arctic in the future, 

providing a mechanism to focus on global priorities in addition to national interests. In the next 50 years, the Arctic 

will experience massive physical and social changes, which 

will make it critical to ensure that scientific knowledge is 

incorporated into decision-making processes and that the 

interaction among science, law, and policy is strengthened.

Session 3 explored the role of monitoring, reporting, and verification systems in the Antarctic and the relevance of this experience to the Arctic. Discussion focused 

on the success of the Antarctic’s practice of sharing data 

and information. In the face of anticipated changes due to 

climate change, the Arctic nations should adopt similar 

practices as data integration and comparability become 

increasingly critical to understanding the health of the 

Earth’s socioecological systems.

In Antarctica, science has given rise to practices in 

areas such as environmental assessment and data management that allow a common approach to regional monitoring, reporting, and verification. Development of similar 

standardized data collection, management, and analysis 

procedures among the Arctic nations will be needed to 

integrate, interpret, and feed this information into policymaking processes in the future. Similar procedures will 

prove beneficial to assessments carried out by the Arctic 

Council’s Working Groups.

Session 4 of the workshop focused on whether the 

Antarctic experience can suggest ways to strengthen the 

science-policy interface in the Arctic. The growth of a 

common scientific “culture” in the Antarctic has contributed to the development of informal consultative practices 

and a less-hierarchical approach than is typical in national 

or multilateral governmental forums. In addition, this approach has contributed to progress by encouraging open 

discussions in which parties emphasize “consent” rather 

than consensus. Environmental nongovernmental organizations have also played an important role in the Antarctic, increasing decision-making capacity and advancing 

goals outside the formal structures of governance.

There may be a lesson here regarding the role of informal governmental structures as Arctic stakeholders strive 

to find common ground, define the common good, and 

achieve compromises. Future challenges in the Arctic will 

be transnational and often region-wide in scope. In some 

cases, the effects of decisions regarding Arctic issues will 

be felt at the global level and vice versa. The global dimensions of Arctic governance will challenge the capacity and 

the authority of Arctic states to exclude others from participating in decision-making regarding Arctic issues. The 

Arctic will require adaptive management strategies to meet 

future challenges, especially in the case of climate change.

TABLE 1. Polar contrasts relevant to governance.

The Antarctic The Arctic

A continent surrounded by ocean An ocean surrounded by land

No permanent residents Many permanent residents

Jurisdictional status frozen Multinational jurisdiction

No large-scale industry World-class industry

Demilitarized Highly militarized

Denuclearized Nuclearized
cava / WORKSHOP ON ARCTIC GOVERNANCE • 297

Economic development, increasing in both polar regions, is a major concern in the Arctic. It is important to 

consider adopting substantive arrangements in the Arctic, 

similar to those developed in the Antarctic for activities 

like tourism and bioprospecting. Similarly, Arctic nations 

and the Arctic Council will need to work closely with international organizations like the International Maritime 

Organization to develop regionally appropriate regulations for matters like shipping, search and rescue, and 

emergency response.

The International Polar Year (IPY) was successful in 

bringing significant investments in science involving both 

polar regions. Participants in the workshop recommended 

that ways be found to continue IPY efforts, perhaps 

through the extension of the IPY to an International Polar 

Decade.

The designation of marine and terrestrial protected 

areas is emerging in the Antarctic as an important mechanism to promote both environmental protection and scientific research. The Arctic can benefit from this experience 

through an effort to achieve international agreement to 

identify and designate sensitive areas for protection and 

further research.

Antarctica has captured the interest and the imagination of the public through the exploits of famous explorers, the plight of charismatic species (e.g., whales and 

penguins), and the impact on popular thinking of dramatic 

events like the discovery of the ozone hole. This high profile has produced tremendous public support for international cooperation in the Antarctic and should become a 

model for those concerned with the Arctic.

Workshop participants concluded that over the course 

of the next 50 years there will be a need to adapt Arctic 

governance systems to address impacts arising from the 

interaction of climate change and globalization and to 

promote the achievement of sustainable development and 

social justice for Arctic residents. The region will experience environmental change resulting from melting ice, a 

seasonally ice-free ocean, and thawing permafrost along 

with increasing pressure to develop natural resources.

In the Antarctic, by contrast, the impacts of these 

forces will not be as profound. As the Arctic changes, we 

should continue to look for lessons in both polar regions. 

The Arctic will remain vulnerable to environmental degradation attributable to activities occurring in other parts of 

the world. There is a need for increased public understanding about how changes in the polar regions will exacerbate 

climate change and greatly impact global systems. This 

workshop provided a venue to consider the importance of 

the polar regions, to look to them for lessons of broader 

significance, and to stress the need to continue to learn 

about and protect these regions for their own value as well 

as for the roles they play in maintaining planetary systems.

Acknowledgments

The Aspen Commission on Arctic Climate Change 

and the Arctic Governance Project cosponsored this 

workshop. David Monsma of the Aspen Institute and 

Oran Young of the Arctic Governance Project served as 

cochairs. Francesca Cava of the Aspen Institute was the 

rapporteur.

GOVERNING ANTARCTICA

Throughout human history, nations and empires have colonized territories 

across the Earth and claimed jurisdiction over these areas, resulting too often 

in conflicts. To end the battles and wars, protagonists have signed treaties, such 

as the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648, which solidified the concept of the nationstate, blending cultural and political authority within geographic boundaries. 

Curiously, just a few years before, in 1609, the Dutch jurist Hugo Grotius published Mare Liberum, a treatise articulating freedoms of the sea existing beyond 

the jurisdiction of nations (Bull et al., 1990). Together, these legal paradigms 

developed in the seventeenth century reveal a global governance dichotomy that 

is with us still and that features national spaces governed by states acting on the 

basis of national interests juxtaposed to international spaces in which all nations 

have common interests.

Three centuries later, Antarctica was no different than other areas on Earth 

where nation-states assert their sovereign jurisdiction (Lüdecke, this volume). 

Like a pie, the division of Antarctica started with the letters patent from the 

United Kingdom in 1907 and continued with additional claims by New Zealand, France, Australia, Norway, Argentina, and Chile by 1943. With the aidememoire and draft agreement that the United States transmitted in secret to 

the seven claimant nations in 1948, Antarctica was positioned to become just 

another domino in the history of territorial expansion.

This nation-state trajectory in Antarctica shifted course dramatically with 

the emergence of the vision underlying a Third International Polar Year (renamed the International Geophysical Year) and the statesmanship of President 

Eisenhower of the United States in the early 1950s (Berkman, this volume). The 

International Geophysical Year (IGY) of 1957–1958 provided a coordinated 

international avenue for synoptic studies of the Earth as an interconnected geophysical system combining land, air, and water with forcing from the Sun. This 

was followed by the International Biological Program (1964–1974), an attempt 

to apply the big science approach to ecosystem functioning and productivity at 

a global scale (Worthington, 1975). Biological dynamics of the Earth as an interconnected system, as illustrated by the Gaia hypothesis (Lovelock and Margulis, 

Conclusions

Paul Arthur Berkman, David W. H. Walton, 

and Oran R. Young

Paul Arthur Berkman, Scott Polar Research 

Institute, University of Cambridge, Lensfield 

Road, Cambridge CB2 1ER, UK, and Donald Bren School of Environmental Science and 

Management, University of California, Santa 

Barbara, California 93106-5131, USA. David 

W. H. Walton, British Antarctic Survey, Natural Environment Research Council, High Cross, 

Madingley Road, Cambridge CB3 0ET, UK. 

Oran R. Young, Bren School of Environmental 

Science and Management, University of California (Santa Barbara),4518 Bren Hall, Santa Barbara, CA 93106-5131, USA. Correspondence: 

pb426@cam.ac.uk.
300 • science diplomacy

1974), would be investigated subsequently on a planetary 

scale with the inception during the 1980s of the International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme and the growth of 

Earth system science. It was satellites with their unmistakable rocket relationship to ballistic missiles, however, that 

became the national security item that most engaged the 

superpowers during the IGY in the 1950s.

Ultimately, the IGY paved a diplomatic path, underlain by science, to establish the region south of 60°S, 

encompassing nearly 10% of the Earth’s surface, as an international space where all claims to territorial sovereignty 

would be held in abeyance (Jacobsson, this volume).1 Adopted on 1 December 1959 in Washington, D.C., the Antarctic Treaty articulates the premise that

establishment of a firm foundation for the continuation and 

development of such cooperation on the basis of freedom of 

scientific investigation in Antarctica as applied during the International Geophysical Year accords with the interests of science 

and the progress of all mankind.

The two world wars of the twentieth century underscored animosity on a global scale. In contrast, reflecting 

unparalleled international cooperation, institutions have 

evolved since 1945 to prevent or resolve disputes transcending national boundaries. Most of these institutions 

relate to issues that cross national boundaries. However, 

there is a suite of institutions that has emerged to manage 

regions beyond the reach of national jurisdiction in the 

high seas (1958), Antarctica (1959), outer space (1967), 

and the deep sea (1971). On Earth, these international 

spaces extend across nearly 70% of our planet’s surface 

(Young, this volume). The Antarctic Treaty reflects a new 

vision of an interconnected global society starting with 

Antarctica “forever to be used exclusively for peaceful 

purposes.”

The Antarctic Treaty was crafted by the seven claimant nations along with five nonclaimant nations (Belgium, 

Japan, the Republic of South Africa, the Union of Soviet 

Socialist Republics, and the United States of America). As 

of August 2010, there are 47 signatories to the Antarctic 

Treaty (Retamales and Rogan-Finnemore, this volume), 

including Monaco as the most recent Acceding Party 

(Albert II, this volume). The origin, development, and 

implications of the Antarctic Treaty are intimately associated with science, revealing lessons that offer hope and 

inspiration.

For the benefit of present and future generations—

the global challenge is to balance national interests and 

common interests. Science diplomacy is the international, 

interdisciplinary and inclusive process to achieve this 

global balance for the benefit of all life on Earth.

SCIENCE DIPLOMACY LESSONS 

FROM ANTARCTICA

The origin, administration, and development of the 

Antarctic Treaty are intimately associated with the conduct of science. The lessons we draw from the Antarctic 

experience regarding science diplomacy will be of lasting 

and global significance. The opportunity here is to understand these science diplomacy lessons and to identify their 

implications for meeting governance needs at the international level. In this section, we identify a number of major 

lessons emerging from the Antarctic experience. The following subsections explore these lessons with relevance 

beyond the confines of Antarctica.

Science as an Instrument for Earth System

Monitoring and Assessment

Recognizing that science extends across a continuum 

from basic to applied research (Berkman, 2002), science 

diplomacy is strongly influenced by discoveries and insights that have practical benefits for society. Such applied 

research is commonly seen in terms of monitoring and assessing human impacts on natural systems.

In the Antarctic Treaty System (ATS), environmental 

impact assessment is integrated into the 1991 Protocol on 

Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty (Madrid 

Protocol), which introduces the concept of a “minor or 

transitory impact” (Orheim et al., this volume). On one 

hand, “minor” involves subjective elements associated 

with values that have been articulated in diverse ATS measures,2

 including the “value for global baseline monitoring,” “unique ecological and scientific value,” “value of 

increasing public knowledge,” “value of cooperation,” 

and the “outstanding geological, glaciological, geomorphological, aesthetic, scenic, or wilderness value.”

On the other hand, transitory involves objective elements associated with rate-related processes defined in 

the ATS, such as “changes in the marine ecosystem which 

are not potentially reversible over two or three decades” 

(Miller, this volume), as articulated in Article II of the 

1980 Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources (CCAMLR). As a whole, the concept of a “minor or transitory impact” is a microcosm of 

the science-policy coupling that has been evolving in the 

ATS throughout its first 50 years, bringing together both 
berkman / conclusions • 301

subjective and objective elements that are necessary for 

good decision making.

Science as the Essential Gauge of

Changes over Time and Space

Science is a process of discovery based on a method 

of hypothesis testing to assess the dynamics of systems: 

natural and social, small and large, young and old. At 

the heart of this process is investigation of changes over 

time and space (Thiede, this volume). Science provides 

a framework to look backward and forward in time to 

characterize rates and durations of phenomena as well 

as their feedbacks. Science places events in context, such 

as regional weather patterns operating within our global 

climate system. Importantly, for the benefit of our global 

society, science reveals interactions between natural and 

anthropogenic processes at multiple scales.

Time and space are blurred over cosmological dimensions back to the origin of the universe. “The farthest we 

can see is 13.7 billion light years distant, to a time that was 

only 350,000 years after the big bang” (Stark, this volume).

Climate, which is a planetary process that has oscillated regularly between glacial cold and interglacial warm 

periods for the last few million years with principal forcing 

from the Sun, illustrates temporal and spatial variability 

in the Earth system (Petit, this volume). The “sawtooth” 

pattern of climate changes, seen from high-resolution ice 

cores in the East Antarctic Ice Sheet and Greenland Ice 

Sheet, reveals that the current warm period is anomalously 

long compared to previous interglacial periods during the 

past 800,000 years. The ice core records also demonstrate 

that carbon dioxide concentrations and temperatures in 

the atmosphere have been increasing since the beginning 

of the industrial era (circa 1850) to current levels that are 

well above any seen in the Earth system over the past eight 

climate cycles. The inferred atmospheric variability also 

mimics sea level changes that have been deduced from 

marine sediments. Such proxy records demonstrate variations in the Earth system over years and decades embedded within centuries and millennia.

These long-term proxies are complemented by realtime measurements that have been made by various types 

of instruments, producing records of modern events and 

phenomena as they are happening. In Antarctica, there 

is a continuous daily weather record at Orcadas Station 

going back to the Scottish National Antarctic Expedition 

in 1903 (Zazulie et al., 2010). Starting in 1958 during the 

IGY, continuous atmospheric carbon dioxide measurements have been made at the South Pole (as well as at 

Mauna Loa in Hawaii), showing seasonality and increasing global concentrations of this greenhouse gas (Scripps 

CO2 Program, 2010). Such real-time measurements reveal 

changes in the Earth system over days and seasons embedded within years and decades.

Together, the proxy and real-time records provide 

the context to understand events (e.g., a once in a century flood or warmest decade in the last millennium) that 

impact humankind. Science contributes to fundamental 

understanding about the magnitudes, rates, and dynamics 

of Earth system phenomena that must underpin any adaptation and mitigation policies. The challenge is to design 

and implement the appropriate strategies over time spans 

that far exceed the electoral cycles of the decision makers.

Science as a Source of Invention

and Commercial Enterprise

Although scientific activities may be initiated with 

national funding for basic research purposes, discoveries 

also can reveal opportunities for potential or actual commercial gain. A living resource example from the Antarctic, as from other regions beyond national jurisdictions, 

is the potential exploitation of genetic resources from 

unique species that can be amplified, patented and marketed (Berkman, 2010a). This biological cousin to the exploitation of geological deposits constitutes an emerging 

challenge known as bioprospecting (Joyner, this volume).

The more well-known challenge focuses on mineral 

resources, as illustrated by scientific results of the Glomar Challenger expedition from the Deep Sea Drilling 

Program in the early 1970s (Walton, this volume), which 

were suddenly and wildly interpreted in the Wall Street 

Journal as offering the prospect of hundreds of millions 

of barrels of oil and trillions of cubic feet of natural gas 

on the Antarctic continental shelf. The mineral resource 

potential of Antarctica awakened intense international 

interest, opened the door for questions to be addressed 

in the United Nations, and led to the development of the 

Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities, a legal instrument that has never entered into force (Scully, this volume). Subsequently, the 

Madrid Protocol prohibited any activity relating to mineral resources, other than scientific research (Golitsyn, 

this volume).

In addition to identifying potential resources, science plays a role in developing the technologies needed 

to exploit these resources. However, there is a key difference between commercial and scientific activities, which 

is demonstrated by the issue of access to information. 
302 • science diplomacy

Commercial activities restrict information access. To avoid 

this trajectory, with leadership of the Scientific Committee 

on Antarctic Research (SCAR), for marine geological resources, at least, the Antarctic Offshore Stratigraphy project (ANTOSTRAT) has been working since the late 1980s 

to share seismic data that companies otherwise would hold 

as proprietary (Cooper et al., this volume). Thus, scientific 

activities facilitate information access and transparency in 

such a way as to extend cooperation and prevent conflict.

Science as an Early Warning System

Scientific research often yields insights about impending abrupt and irreversible changes in the dynamics of natural systems (Erb, this volume). The pace of global changes 

seems often to be more rapid in the polar regions than elsewhere in the Earth system (Holland and Bitz, 2003).

Measurements of the changes in the mass balance of 

the Antarctic ice sheets will provide an early warning of 

the impacts of sea level rise (Kennicutt, this volume), a 

global change that will affect the stability of nation-states 

and the lives of billions of people. Such early warning will 

also be important to understand the changing flows of 

Antarctic Bottom Water and North Atlantic Deep Water, 

which are important drivers of the circulation and biogeochemical cycling of the ocean as well as the global inventory of carbon dioxide (Rintoul, this volume), which 

impact marine and terrestrial ecosystems across the Earth.

Data on atmospheric ozone depletion, which allows 

higher concentrations of ultraviolet radiation from the Sun 

to reach the Earth’s surface, have served as a particularly 

urgent early warning (Solomon and Chanin, this volume). 

Because of genetic damage, most notably in the form of 

skin cancers that would ensue worldwide, the 1985 Convention for Protection of the Ozone Layer (Vienna Convention) and its 1987 Protocol on Substances that Deplete the 

Ozone Layer (Montreal Protocol) were quickly adopted in 

response to this global threat (Sarma and Anderson, this 

volume). The ozone story at once reveals unequivocal anthropogenic impacts to the Earth system on a global scale, 

while highlighting the central roles and responsibilities of 

the international scientific community in providing early 

warnings about impending threats that can be translated 

into adaptation or mitigation policies.

Uncontrolled fishing in the Southern Ocean in the early 

1970s alerted the SCAR marine community to a potential 

ecological disaster of the type that had occurred elsewhere 

in the world (Walton, this volume). Rapid action to investigate these Antarctic fishery impacts provided the basis for 

international agreement and regulation through CCAMLR.

Science as a Determinant of Public Policy Agendas

Antarctica and its surrounding seas drive much of 

the Southern Hemisphere weather systems, form bottom 

waters that propel the global ocean conveyor (Broecker, 

1991), absorb a major component of atmospheric carbon, 

reflect much of the solar radiation that enters the Earth 

system, and contribute significantly to global sea level. All 

of these natural phenomena are of major importance, not 

just for the Antarctic Treaty nations, but for life on Earth.

Antarctic science has become topical, essential, and 

strategic. It may be expensive, but evidence from the last 

50 years is that we need more not less research there if 

we are to predict the future state of the world accurately 

enough to plan for our survival. Fortunately, the ATS 

has become increasingly aware of its responsibilities for 

Antarctic diplomacy and science, providing an important 

foundation for international and interdisciplinary research 

that reveals the dynamics of the Earth system with direct 

relevance to humankind.

Scientific advances often give rise to policy issues 

where they did not exist before, especially in relation to 

natural phenomena and technological innovations. In 

some cases, the policy process itself exposes solutions or 

challenges that can be generalized. Two science-policy examples from Antarctica involve ecosystems and climate.

In 1976, a SCAR Group of Specialists was formed 

on Biological Investigations of Marine Antarctic Systems 

and Stocks (BIOMASS) to assess keystone relationships of 

krill (Euphausia superba) to other species in the Southern Ocean south of the Antarctic Convergence (El-Sayed, 

1994). This assessment led to a recognition that a speciesby-species approach was insufficient to manage harvesting 

impacts effectively in the Antarctic marine ecosystem. In 

contrast to the 1972 Convention on the Conservation of 

Antarctic Seals, it was necessary to consider the interactions of species with their habitats across trophic levels 

from the phytoplankton to the krill and bird, fish, seal, 

squid, and whale predators. Embodied in Article II of 

CCAMLR, this ecosystem approach called for maintaining the “ecological relationships between harvested, dependent and related populations” (Miller, this volume). 

The underlying concept of interdependence was further 

elaborated in the 1991 Madrid Protocol to “enhance the 

protection of the Antarctic environment and dependent 

and associated ecosystems.”

Policy measures emphasizing the term “ecosystem” 

were adopted for Antarctic protected areas in 1964, well before other regions around the world, as reflected by the Digital Library of International Environmental and Ecosystem 
berkman / conclusions • 303

Policy Documents that spans the period from 1818 to 1999 

(Marine Mammal Commission, 2007). Today, ecosystembased management is a widely accepted approach applied 

to address human impacts in marine systems around the 

world (Levin and Lubchenco, 2008) as well as to issues involving freshwater and terrestrial systems.

Since World War II, international environmental and 

ecosystem agreements have grown at an exponential rate 

(Berkman, this volume), with connections to scientific discoveries that are unmistakable. These discrete solutions 

dealing with all manner of Earth system phenomena have 

expanded into an integrated fabric of policies on a planetary scale, as represented by climate. This policy trajectory also is mirrored in the Antarctic, where the value of 

the environment for global baseline monitoring was recognized in the 1960s, two decades before climate research 

was incorporated into the policy measures. These global 

science-policy developments are coupled with technological advances, most profoundly involving data collected by 

satellites that yield perspectives of the Earth system and 

its dynamics.

Climate, like science diplomacy, is merely a term for a 

process that has long been understood. In 1882–1883, for 

example, 12 European nations convened the first International Polar Year (IPY) with a national security focus on 

glacial weather conditions that had impacted their agriculture and economies for the preceding four centuries during 

the Little Ice Age (Berkman, 2003). During the nineteenth 

century, science already was tasked with contributing to 

international policies that relate to climate as we define it 

today and for the same reasons.

Science as an Element of International Institutions

Science contributes fundamentally to the implementation of sustainable development strategies that seek to balance environmental protection, economic prosperity, and 

social justice into the future. When regions or resources, 

natural phenomena, or technologies are the policy focus, 

science is built into the institution. At the international 

level, the Antarctic Treaty is a seminal illustration of scientific contributions to institutional design and implementation (Jacobsson, this volume).

Starting with the Preamble, which articulates the vision that “Antarctica shall continue forever to be used 

exclusively for peaceful purposes and shall not become 

the scene or object of international discord,” the contributions of science are incorporated into the major elements 

of the Antarctic Treaty. To construct this firm foundation, 

science is elaborated in Articles I, II and III with regard 

to peaceful purposes, scientific investigation, and international cooperation, respectively. Together, these three 

articles emphasize the freedom of scientific investigation 

along with the open exchange of scientific observations, 

results, personnel, and program plans. To further facilitate 

information exchange and provide for essential continuity between meetings, an important recent addition to the 

ATS has been its secretariat (Huber, this volume).

In addition, to ensure competent advice, cooperation 

is established with “international organizations having a 

scientific or technical interest in Antarctica” (Cohen, this 

volume). As recommended at the First Antarctic Treaty 

Consultative Meeting (ATCM) in 1961, the first scientific 

organization to be recognized was SCAR (Walton, this 

volume), whose “most valuable contribution” preceded 

the Antarctic Treaty.

This marriage between science and policy in the Antarctic Treaty generated the 1972 Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Seals with its policy-making arm 

and key contributions from SCAR to “achieve the objectives of protection, scientific study and rational use of Antarctic seals, and to maintain a satisfactory balance within 

the ecological system.” The science-policy architecture of 

the Antarctic Treaty also was transferred into CCAMLR, 

which has a commission with a Scientific Committee and 

a secretariat to achieve its objectives (Scully, this volume).

In all, the Antarctic Treaty uses the terms science, scientific, or research in the Antarctic Treaty 18 times. The 

central importance of science is integrated into Article IX, 

which refers to consultation on matters of common interest. Facilitation of scientific research and international 

scientific cooperation are two of the six common interests. 

Importantly, as opposed to any political, economic, or cultural criterion, Article IX establishes “substantial research 

activity” as the standard a state must meet to become an 

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Party (ATCP), giving rise to 

a two-tiered system that also includes signatories that have 

acceded to the Antarctic Treaty without becoming Consultative Parties (Triggs, this volume).

In practice, the complex and expensive logistics needed 

to conduct scientific research in Antarctica require ongoing support from national programs. Since 1988, with the 

involvement of the 28 ATCPs, the Council of Managers of 

National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP) has provided a 

regular forum to coordinate the ships, helicopters, planes, 

and research facilities for delivery of the science that is 

fundamental to the success of the ATS (Retamales and 

Rogan-Finnemore, this volume).

At once, the Antarctic Treaty demonstrated how 

science can imbue an international institution with the 
304 • science diplomacy

resilience needed to establish a policy-making system that 

can evolve and respond effectively to ever-changing circumstances (Scully, this volume; Wolfrum, this volume). 

This is not to say that the ATS is without a need for improvement, as noted in several contributions to this volume (Huber, this volume; Barnes, this volume). Moreover, 

there are growing concerns, as with the case of tourism 

(Landau, this volume), about the need for the ATS to improve its oversight to ensure human safety and environmental protection in the region south of 60°S latitude. 

Nonetheless, the demonstration is clear and compelling 

that the ATS has become a model of international cooperation to resolve varied and complicated issues over the 

past half century, largely because science has a been a key 

element of its design and implementation.

Science as a Tool of Diplomacy

The Antarctic Treaty emerged during the height of 

the cold war, creating a firm foundation that promotes 

cooperation and prevents conflict among adversaries and 

allies alike “on the basis of freedom of scientific investigation.” Although the scientific roots of this international 

collaboration in Antarctica are deep, extending back to 

the nineteenth century (Roots, this volume), the imperative came from the terrible losses encountered by all humankind when our world was urgently seeking strategies 

to build trust, identify common interests, and promote 

lasting peace among nations. This global imperative is no 

less critical today, and there is no room for complacency in 

learning and applying the lessons from our past.

Following the devastation of World War II, which 

President Eisenhower understood firsthand as a supreme 

Allied commander, it was vital to promote cooperation 

and prevent such conflict from ever happening again on 

a global scale, especially with the development of ballistic missiles capable of carrying nuclear weapons over intercontinental distances (Berkman, this volume). Yet the 

United States and Soviet Union, the two superpowers with 

nuclear capacities, were locked in cold war brinksmanship 

without the ability to negotiate on issues involving ballistic missiles, as demonstrated by the unequivocal rejection 

of the Open Skies proposal in 1955.

It was providential that the IGY was being planned 

for 1 July 1957 through 31 December 1958, with the anticipated initial launch of Earth-orbiting scientific satellites suggesting a need for rules involving freedom of space 

much like the freedom of the sea. Even though they were 

launched for peaceful purposes, scientific satellites were 

unmistakably related to the rockets that would become 

ballistic missiles. Satellites also were the national security 

concern that had attracted the Soviet Union to participate 

in the IGY, opening an avenue of cooperation for the two 

superpowers to collaborate with other nations in shared 

international investigation of the Earth system. The timing of the first satellite launch, accomplished with Sputnik 

during the IGY on 4 October 1957, was the historic consequence of science diplomacy with contributions from 

influential scientists like Lloyd Berkner (Needell, 2000).

With science as a tool of diplomacy, the IGY inspired 

international cooperation that enabled the United States 

and Soviet Union to take the lead in establishing the Antarctic Treaty as the first nuclear arms agreement, despite 

their inability to negotiate on this issue elsewhere. The 

Antarctic Treaty similarly stimulated peaceful collaboration between the United States and Japan on an equal 

footing when such interactions were barely imaginable so 

soon after World War II (Yoshida, this volume).

With the precedent of the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, the 

1967 Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States 

in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, Including the 

Moon and Other Celestial Bodies (Outer Space Treaty) became the next legal regime to prohibit the emplacement of 

nuclear weapons in an international space that had never 

been armed (Kerrest, this volume). The third demilitarization regime was the 1971 Treaty on the Prohibition of the 

Emplacement of Nuclear Weapons and Other Weapons 

of Mass Destruction on the Sea-bed and the Ocean Floor 

and in the Subsoil Thereof (Deep Sea Treaty). Together, 

these three regimes along with the 1958 Convention on 

the High Seas (since incorporated into the 1982 United 

Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea) established 

four international spaces that humankind has elected to 

manage beyond the reach of national jurisdiction.

The nuclear issue arose also in connection with the 

“Question of Antarctica” that India placed on the United 

Nation agenda in 1956 “to affirm that the area will be 

utilised entirely for peaceful purposes and for the general 

welfare” (Jacobsson, this volume). The scientific focus of 

the Antarctica Treaty subsequently encouraged India to 

conduct “substantial research activity” and to become an 

ATCP itself in 1983. That same year, Malaysia along with 

Antigua and Barbuda raised the Question of Antarctica 

again in the United Nations, this time due to an interest in 

mineral resources (Scully, this volume). The engaging contribution of science as a trust-building tool of diplomacy 

will be further highlighted when Malaysia accedes to the 

Antarctic Treaty.

Science also creates functional links among disparate 

institutions, even when their only formal connections are 
berkman / conclusions • 305

the policy issues they have in common. For example, the 

issue of iron fertilization in the sea, as a strategy intended 

to mitigate greenhouse warming by stimulating phytoplankton production that would sequester atmospheric 

carbon dioxide, illustrates the institutional interplay between the 1991 Madrid Protocol and other international 

agreements that relate to marine pollution (VanderZwaag, 

this volume).

Comparisons between the provisions of the Antarctic 

Treaty and the Outer Space Treaty illustrate conceptual interplay among institutions relating to international spaces 

(Race, this volume). Regimes created to govern international spaces that can be neither occupied nor appropriated by nations, where science has fundamental roles and 

responsibilities to promote cooperation as well as provide 

advice for policy making and implementation, further reveal an emerging alphabet of common interests for the 

benefit of our civilization (Wolfrum, this volume)

Over time, additional international agreements have 

arisen to deal with issues beyond the jurisdiction of nation–

states, with transboundary issues that also transcend sovereign jurisdictions. The 1992 United Nations Framework 

Convention on Climate Change, for example, acknowledges that “change in the Earth’s climate and its adverse 

effects are a common concern of humankind.” Similarly, 

the 1992 Convention on Biological Diversity, affirms that 

“conservation of biological diversity is a common concern 

of humankind.” In view of functional relationships across 

the boundaries of nations, the 2003 World Summit on the 

Information Society has determined that “knowledge is 

the common wealth of humanity” (Electronic Geophysical Year, 2007)

In general, the unique international value of science is 

reflected by its principles (Elzinga, this volume). The scientific process is open, producing results that are shared 

and transparent, promoting cooperation, and preventing 

conflict. It is telling that the 2007 Nobel Prize to the Intergovernmental Panel for Climate Change was awarded not 

for chemistry or physics, but for peace. As a lingua franca 

free of political, cultural, and economic agendas, science 

fosters international, interdisciplinary, and inclusive dialogues that are crucial to protect our common welfare and 

the world we live in.

GLOBAL SIGNIFICANCE OF THE 

ANTARCTIC EXPERIENCE

It is a natural step, then, to ask whether the experience 

in science diplomacy in Antarctica also holds lessons for 

those concerned with governance in international society 

in general terms and more specifically with the governance 

of global commons. Any lessons we are able to glean from 

the Antarctic experience will be relevant not only to those 

interested in traditional international spaces but also to 

those in search of effective approaches to governing an 

expanding range of issues (e.g., climate change) that have 

become matters of intense concern at the global level in 

recent years and that are destined to become even more 

important in the future.

In this section, we draw attention to several facets of 

the Antarctic experience that highlight strategies and precedents for the governance of other international spaces. 

We also explore similarities and differences between the 

Antarctic and the Arctic with regard to the needs for governance arising in the polar regions and the role of science 

in fulfilling these needs.

Governing International Spaces

International spaces are commons in the sense that 

they are not subject to the rights and rules that we associate with systems of public property, much less systems 

of private property (Ostrom et al., 2002). At least since 

the publication of Garrett Hardin’s well-known article 

on the “tragedy of the commons,” many have come to 

regard situations of the sort prevailing in Antarctica and 

other commons as a recipe for disaster with regard to the 

management of human-environment relations and to the 

achievement of effective governance more generally (Hardin, 1968). But no such tragedy has occurred in the case 

of Antarctica. Although there is no shortage of issues that 

generate needs for governance in the south polar region, 

Antarctica is well governed by a system that has demonstrated a considerable capacity to grow and adapt to 

changing circumstances over a long period of time. How 

is this possible? What are the implications of this success 

for efforts to govern other international spaces?

Success in situations of this kind requires both the establishment of structures of rights and rules that serve the 

interests of the major players in the relevant systems and 

the development of decision-making procedures capable 

of adjusting and adapting these arrangements to address 

changing circumstances. In the case of the ATS, this has 

meant, first and foremost, accommodating the interests of 

major claimant and nonclaimant states and setting up the 

ATCMs as a venue for collective decision making about 

matters of common interest. But there is more to this story 

that will be of interest to those concerned with the governance of other international spaces. 
306 • science diplomacy

The negotiations that culminated in the signing of 

the Antarctic Treaty on 1 December 1959 profited from 

both the knowledge and the relationships of trust emerging from the 1957–1958 IGY experience. The criterion for 

consultative party status in the resultant regime is framed 

in terms of the level of scientific effort. The governance 

system that has evolved from this point of departure recognizes the role of the science community operating through 

SCAR and accords considerable prominence to the work 

of scientists in prioritizing and framing issues for consideration at the ATCMs and in providing the information 

needed on a regular basis to assess the results of decisions 

taken by the ATCMs.

The science community has emerged also as an essential player in the implementation and administration of the 

ATS. The occupants of the research stations in Antarctica 

constitute the only human residents of this international 

space. The provisions of the Antarctic Treaty relating to 

freedom of movement for scientists and to the conduct of inspections of the activities taking place at individual research 

stations ensure a high level of transparency with regard to 

human activities in the region. There is little chance that 

any substantial violation of the rules governing human activities in the region could escape the attention of members 

of the science community. Because this community is well 

known for its international character and for its tendency 

to avoid becoming enmeshed in the pursuit of national interests, these arrangements have operated to produce both 

a high level of assurance among the members of the regime 

regarding compliance with the major provisions of the ATS 

and considerable confidence regarding the absence of unregulated interventions on the part of nonmembers.

Although no two international spaces are alike, much 

of the Antarctic experience seems relevant to other international spaces. The high seas, the deep seabed, and outer 

space are all affected by a variety of human actions. But, 

like Antarctica, they do not have long-term resident populations that form the basis for powerful interest groups.

Particularly striking in this context is the role that 

science can play with regard to the implementation and 

administration of governance systems for international 

spaces or, in other words, what we now think of as science 

for diplomacy. Because scientists tend to see themselves 

as operating in a domain that has little to do with policy 

making or governance, this role may seem alien to many 

members of the science community. Yet whether we are 

thinking of the deep seabed or outer space, scientists are 

key players in the human activities taking place in or associated with these systems. As in the case of Antarctica, 

decisions about human uses of these spaces will apply in 

many instances to the activities of scientists, and scientists 

will often find themselves in a good position to monitor 

the extent to which parties comply with the rights and 

rules of the relevant governance systems. Some may worry 

that this policy-relevant role of science will have the effect 

of distracting scientists from their main role as producers of knowledge. But as the concept of Pasteur’s Quadrant makes clear, the idea that science has a role to play 

in addressing matters of public policy is hardly a new one 

(Stokes, 1997). It is destined to grow in importance during 

the foreseeable future.

Governing the Arctic

The assumption that there are important similarities 

between Antarctica and the Arctic with regard to issues of 

governance is a persistent one (Cava et al., this volume). 

Yet, as Table 1 makes clear, the dissimilarities between the 

two polar regions are profound. Aside from the presence 

of a cold climate and the importance of ice, the antipodes 

differ from one another in most respects. In terms of our 

discussion of lessons to be derived from the experience of 

the ATS, it is critical to note that most of the Arctic (all 

except an area in the central portion of the Arctic Ocean) 

does not constitute an international space. The coastal 

states have jurisdiction not only over all the lands located 

north of 60°N but also over the waters of their exclusive economic zones (EEZ) stretching seaward from their 

coasts. The Commission on the Limits of the Continental 

Shelf is currently addressing issues relating to coastal state 

jurisdiction over the seabed extending beyond the EEZs in 

the Arctic Ocean.

Yet the thought that there are lessons to be learned 

from experiences in each polar region that are relevant to 

the other will not go away. Despite the dramatic differences between the two regions, there are still insights to 

be gained from comparing and contrasting Antarctica and 

the Arctic, with particular reference to science diplomacy. 

The key to this puzzle lies in the character of the sciencepolicy interface in the two polar regions.

Scientific cooperation in the Arctic and Antarctica has 

a long history that includes the first IPY in 1882–1883 

and runs through the IGY in 1957–1958, the fourth IPY 

in 2007–2008, and the current effort to extend this collaborative effort by launching an International Polar Decade. Just as SCAR predates the signing of the Antarctic 

Treaty in 1959, the International Arctic Science Committee (IASC) preceded the creation of the Arctic Environmental Protection Strategy in 1991 and the Arctic Council 

in 1996. The IASC, much like SCAR, has become an 
berkman / conclusions • 307

influential source of scientific knowledge underpinning the 

work of the Arctic Council. Both SCAR and IASC are affiliated with the International Council of Science (ICSU).3

A sizable proportion of those engaged in polar research 

are active in both Antarctic research and Arctic research, 

and SCAR and IASC have begun to collaborate in organizing jointly sponsored scientific meetings and in developing research agendas that make it possible to compare and 

contrast findings from the antipodes in a rigorous manner.

In the process, activities centered on the polar regions 

have come to play a prominent role in the development 

of new perspectives on the science-policy interface. Sometimes discussed in terms of the idea of the coproduction of 

knowledge, these new perspectives highlight a much more 

collaborative effort encompassing active cooperation in 

framing research questions and in setting research priorities as well as in delivering the results of scientific research to policy makers who have played a significant role 

in guiding scientific research from the outset (Jasanoff, 

2004). In both regions, an important result of this collaborative process has been the conduct of what we now 

know as scientific assessments and the infusion of the results of these assessments into the policy process (Mitchell 

et al., 2006).

The practices that have evolved in the two regions differ in some significant ways. In the Antarctic case, what 

are known as SCAR groups of specialists have emerged as 

central mechanisms in carrying out scientific assessments. 

In the Arctic, in contrast, the Arctic Council’s working 

groups, operating often in collaboration with IASC, have 

TABLE 1. Comparison of Arctic and Antarctic characteristics. Adapted from Berkman (2010b).

Characteristic Arctic Antarctic

Location The high-latitude region surrounding the The high-latitude region surrounding the South Pole 

North Pole (90°N latitude) (90°S latitude)

Geography Ocean surrounded by continents Continent surrounded by ocean

Ecosystems Strongly influenced by solar cycle poleward Strongly influenced by solar cycle poleward of Antarctic 

of Arctic Circle (66.5°N) Circle (66.5°S)

Sea ice Year-round, mostly multiyear Seasonal, mostly annual

Continental shelf Broadest, shallowest on Earth Narrowest, deepest on Eartha

Humans Indigenous people over millennia No indigenous people

Science International Arctic Science Committee Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research

Territories Recognized sovereign jurisdictions Claims to sovereigntya

Access Restricted Unrestricted

Living resources Ongoing exploitation Ongoing exploitation

Mineral resources Ongoing exploitation Exploitation prohibited

Ecotourism Extensive Extensive

Military presence Extensive since World War II Nonmilitarized region

Nuclear weapons Extensive since World War II Nuclear-free zone

Common interests Sustainable development and environmental (1) peaceful purposes only; (2) facilitation of scientific 

protectionb research; (3) facilitation of international scientific 

cooperation; (4) facilitation of the exercise of the 

rights of inspection; (5) questions relating to the 

exercise of jurisdiction; (6) preservation and 

conservation of living resourcesc

Legal framework Law of the Sead 1959 Antarctic Treatye

aDescribed and mapped in Berkman (2002).

b

Defined as “common arctic issues” in the 1996 Ottawa Declaration on the Establishment of the Arctic Council (http://www.international.gc.ca/polarpolaire/ottdec-decott.aspx?lang=en). c

Defined as “matters of common interest” in the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, Article IX, paragraph 1 (http://www.ats.aq/documents/ats/treaty_original.pdf).

d

As expressed in the 2008 Ilulissat Declaration, the five Arctic coastal states “remain committed” to the law of the sea (http://www.oceanlaw.org/down

loads/arctic/Ilulissat_Declaration.pdf). The Arctic states all have adopted the 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS Searchable Database, http://lawofthesea.tierit.com), with the exception of the United States.

e

Antarctic Treaty Searchable Database (http://aspire.tierit.com).
308 • science diplomacy

taken the lead in the preparation of policy-relevant scientific assessments. But as the delivery of the Arctic Climate 

Impact Assessment (ACIA) to the Arctic Council ministerial meeting in 2004 and the submission of its Antarctic 

counterpart, the report on Antarctic Climate Change and 

the Environment (ACCE), to the ATCM in 2009 make 

clear, this emerging relationship between the science community and the policy community is a progressive step 

in the creation of effective governance systems in the antipodes. This relationship is not always trouble free. The 

friction associated with the process of drafting the ACIA 

policy statement in the months leading up to the Arctic 

Council ministerial meeting in November 2004 provides 

a sharp reminder of the fact that the concerns of the two 

communities are never identical and can diverge substantially in specific cases (Nilsson, 2007: chap. 5). But this case 

also demonstrates that the polar regions have emerged as 

key venues for the development of new practices regarding 

the science-policy interface that are now producing major 

shifts in our thinking about the interactions between the 

science community and the policy community with regard 

to efforts to govern complex systems on a large scale.

THE FUTURE OF SCIENCE DIPLOMACY

In its 2010 report on science diplomacy, the Royal Society observes that “interest in science diplomacy is growing at a time when international relations are changing” 

(Royal Society, 2010). No one expects the state to wither 

away during the foreseeable future as the basic element of 

international society. Yet the role of civil society is growing as a force to be reckoned with in determining the trajectory of world affairs. We know that this is the case with 

regard to the influence of corporations and environmental 

nongovernmental organizations (Pattberg, 2007). But the 

science community has emerged also as an important force 

in a wide range of issue areas. Sometimes, this is a matter of enhancing human capabilities in ways that lead to 

the emergence of new issues on the policy agenda, as in 

the cases of the development of nuclear weapons and the 

creation of genetically modified organisms. In other cases, 

scientific advances help to solve problems, as the successful effort to stamp out smallpox and the development of 

alternatives to ozone-depleting substances attest.

Although it is true that the cultures of science and policy making differ sharply in some respects (Royal Society, 

2010), the experiences of recent decades in both the Antarctic and the Arctic suggest that science can thrive in settings involving extensive interactions between the science 

community and the policy community. Taking advantage 

of the resultant opportunities and steering clear of the potential pitfalls requires sophistication and vigilance on the 

part of leading members of both communities. But success 

in this realm is perfectly possible. Perhaps the broadest 

legacy of the first 50 years of the ATS is the development 

of a suite of practices that are useful in any effort to ensure that interactions between science and policy produce 

positive results for both communities in addressing a wide 

range of large-scale issues for the benefit of humankind 

and the world we inhabit.

NOTES

1. Antarctica is a transitional case in these terms. Although the territorial claims of the seven claimant states still exist on paper and are 

protected under the terms of Article IV of the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, 

Antarctica has emerged in practice as an international space for the purposes of governance.

2. Terms in measures that have been adopted by the Antarctic 

Treaty Consultative Parties can be comprehensively discovered and integrated from 1959 to 2007 with the Antarctic Treaty Searchable Database, 8th ed., http://aspire.tierit.com. Adopted measures in the Antarctic 

Treaty System also can be searched through the Antarctic Treaty Database, http://www.ats.aq/devAS/info_measures_list.aspx, from the Antarctic Treaty Secretariat.

3. Formally, SCAR is an ICSU committee, and IASC is an international associate of ICSU.

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Appendix

The Appendix contains documents that celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty. The documents reaffirm the tenets of the 

Antarctic Treaty and its contribution to science and scientific cooperation. Included are:

•	 Signed affirmation by UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon

•	 U.S. House of Representatives Concurrent Resolution, no. 51

•	 U.S. Senate Resolution, no 365

•	 Signed Forever Declaration of the Antarctic Treaty presented to the United 

Nations.

Also included are photos from the Antarctic Treaty Summit, which was convened at the Smithsonian Institution between 30 November and 3 December 2009. 
312 • appendix
appendix • 313

111TH CONGRESS 

1ST SESSION H. CON. RES. 51 

CONCURRENT RESOLUTION 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty was signed by 12 nations in 

Washington, DC, on December 1, 1959, ‘‘with the interests of science and the progress of all mankind’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty was established to continue 

and develop international ‘‘cooperation on the basis of 

freedom of scientific investigation in Antarctica as applied during the International Geophysical Year’’; 
314 • appendix

2 

•HCON 51 EH 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty came into force on June 23, 

1961, after its unanimous ratification by the seven countries (Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, 

Norway, and the United Kingdom) with territorial claims 

in the region and five other countries (Belgium, Japan, 

South Africa, the Soviet Union, and the United States), 

which had collaborated in Antarctic research activities 

during the International Geophysical Year from July 1, 

1957, through December 31, 1958; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty now has 47 nations as signatories that together represent nearly 90 percent of humanity; 

Whereas Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty states that ‘‘no 

acts or activities taking place while the present Treaty is 

in force shall constitute a basis for asserting, supporting 

or denying a claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica’’; 

Whereas the 14 articles of the Antarctic Treaty have provided a lasting foundation for maintaining the region 

south of 60 degrees south latitude, nearly 10 percent of 

the Earth’s surface, ‘‘for peaceful purposes only’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty prohibits ‘‘any measure of a 

military nature’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty has promoted international nuclear cooperation by prohibiting ‘‘any nuclear explosions 

in Antarctica and the disposal there of radioactive waste 

material’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty provides a framework for the 

signatories to continue to meet ‘‘for the purpose of exchanging information, consulting together on matters of 

common interest pertaining to Antarctica, and formu-
appendix • 315

3 

•HCON 51 EH 

lating and considering, and recommending to their Governments, measures in furtherance of the principles and 

objectives of the Treaty’’; 

Whereas common interests among the Antarctic Treaty nations facilitated the development and ratification of the 

Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources; 

Whereas the international cooperation represented by the 

Antarctic Treaty offers humankind a precedent for the 

peaceful governance of international spaces; 

Whereas in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the International Geophysical Year, the Antarctic Treaty Parties 

in their Edinburgh Declaration recognized the current 

International Polar Year for its contributions to science 

worldwide and to international cooperation; and 

Whereas the International Polar Year program has endorsed 

the Antarctic Treaty Summit that will convene in Washington, DC, at the Smithsonian Institution on the 50th 

anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty: Now, therefore, be 

it 

1 Resolved by the House of Representatives (the Senate 

2 concurring), That the Congress— 

3 (1) recognizes that the Antarctic Treaty has 

4 greatly contributed to science and science coopera5 tion worldwide and successfully ensured the ‘‘use of 

6 Antarctica for peaceful purposes only and the con7 tinuance of international harmony’’ for the past half 

8 century; and 
316 • appendix

4 

•HCON 51 EH 

1 (2) encourages international and interdiscipli2 nary collaboration in the Antarctic Treaty Summit 

3 to identify lessons from 50 years of international co4 operation under the Antarctic Treaty that have leg5 acy value for humankind. 

Passed the House of Representatives September 30, 

2009. 

Attest: 

Clerk. 
appendix • 317

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









 







 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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







 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 



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appendix • 319

III 

111TH CONGRESS 

1ST SESSION S. RES. 365 

Recognizing the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Antarctic Treaty. 

IN THE SENATE OF THE UNITED STATES 

DECEMBER 1, 2009 

Mrs. BOXER submitted the following resolution; which was considered and 

agreed to 

RESOLUTION 

Recognizing the 50th anniversary of the signing of the 

Antarctic Treaty. 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty was signed by 12 nations in 

Washington, DC, on December 1, 1959, ‘‘with the interests of science and the progress of all mankind’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty was established to continue 

and develop international ‘‘cooperation on the basis of 

freedom of scientific investigation in Antarctica as applied during the International Geophysical Year’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty came into force on June 23, 

1961, after its unanimous ratification by the seven countries (Argentina, Australia, Chile, France, New Zealand, 

Norway, and the United Kingdom) with territorial claims 

in the region and five other countries (Belgium, Japan, 

South Africa, the Soviet Union, and the United States), 


tjames on DSKG8SOYB1PROD with BILLS
320 • appendix

2 

•SRES 365 ATS 

which had collaborated in Antarctic research activities 

during the International Geophysical Year from July 1, 

1957, through December 31, 1958; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty now has 47 nations as signatories that together represent nearly 90 percent of humanity; 

Whereas Article IV of the Antarctic Treaty states that ‘‘no 

acts or activities taking place while the present Treaty is 

in force shall constitute a basis for asserting, supporting 

or denying a claim to territorial sovereignty in Antarctica’’; 

Whereas the 14 articles of the Antarctic Treaty have provided a lasting foundation for maintaining the region 

south of 60 degrees south latitude, nearly 10 percent of 

the Earth’s surface, ‘‘for peaceful purposes only’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty prohibits ‘‘any measure of a 

military nature’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty has promoted international nuclear cooperation by prohibiting ‘‘any nuclear explosions 

in Antarctica and the disposal there of radioactive waste 

material’’; 

Whereas the Antarctic Treaty provides a framework for the 

signatories to continue to meet ‘‘for the purpose of exchanging information, consulting together on matters of 

common interest pertaining to Antarctica, and formulating and considering, and recommending to their Governments, measures in furtherance of the principles and 

objectives of the Treaty’’; 

Whereas common interests among the Antarctic Treaty nations facilitated the development and ratification of the 


tjames on DSKG8SOYB1PROD with BILLS
appendix • 321

3 

•SRES 365 ATS 

Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources; 

Whereas the international cooperation represented by the 

Antarctic Treaty offers humankind a precedent for the 

peaceful governance of international spaces; 

Whereas in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the International Geophysical Year, the Antarctic Treaty Parties 

in their Edinburgh Declaration recognized the current 

International Polar Year for its contributions to science 

worldwide and to international cooperation; and 

Whereas the International Polar Year program has endorsed 

the Antarctic Treaty Summit that will convene in Washington, DC, at the Smithsonian Institution on the 50th 

anniversary of the Antarctic Treaty: Now, therefore, be 

it 

1 Resolved, That the Senate— 

2 (1) recognizes that the Antarctic Treaty has 

3 greatly contributed to science and science coopera4 tion worldwide and successfully ensured the ‘‘use of 

5 Antarctica for peaceful purposes only and the con6 tinuance of international harmony’’ for the past half 

7 century; and 

8 (2) encourages international and interdiscipli9 nary collaboration in the Antarctic Treaty Summit 

10 to identify lessons from 50 years of international co11 operation under the Antarctic Treaty that have leg12 acy value for humankind. 

Æ 


tjames on DSKG8SOYB1PROD with BILLS
322 • appendix



  







 























 



















 

 



 

 



Search Results - THOMAS (Library of Congress) Page 1 of 1

http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/bdquery/z?d111:SE00365:@@@L&summ2=m& 1/28/2010
appendix • 323

Page 1 of 2

FOREVER DECLARATION

Declaration on the Occasion of the 

50th Anniversary of the Signing of the Antarctic Treaty 

Presented for Signature on 1 December 2009 

At the Antarctic Treaty Summit Held in Washington, DC 

Presented to the United Nations to be Preserved for Posterity

28 January 2010 
324 • appendix

Page 1 of 2

FOREVER DECLARATION

Declaration on the Occasion of the 

50th Anniversary of the Signing of the Antarctic Treaty 

Presented for Signature on 1 December 2009 

At the Antarctic Treaty Summit Held in Washington, DC 

The Antarctic Treaty Summit, consisting of a group of people – as part of civil society – have 

adopted the following Declaration in the city where the Antarctic Treaty was signed on this day 

50 years ago by the original 12 Signatory States; 

Recognising that the establishment of lasting peace on Earth represents the primary condition 

for the survival of humankind and considering that the Antarctic Treaty has provided the means 

and the inspiration to ensure peace, security, environmental protection and international cooperation in the Antarctic region. 

Acknowledging that increased commitment to the objectives and principles of the Treaty has 

been demonstrated by its increased membership to 47 States Parties that together represent 

approximately two-thirds of the world’s population; 

Aware that the template and visionary nature of the Antarctic Treaty have been employed to 

good effect in other treaties seeking to promote international co-operation; 

Noting the indefinite nature of the Antarctic Treaty and that Antarctica should remain a natural 

reserve forever devoted to peace and science; 

Bearing in mind the fundamental principles of international law set forth in the Charter of the 

United Nations, and that the Antarctic Treaty Parties have pledged that: 

(a) Antarctica shall be used for peaceful purposes only; 

(b) There shall be prohibited, inter alia, any measure of a military nature, such as the 

establishment of military bases and fortifications, the carrying out of military 

manoeuvres, as well as the testing of any type of weapons; 

(c) Any nuclear explosions in Antarctica and the disposal there of radioactive waste 

material shall be prohibited; 

Noting that the environmental principles and mechanisms developed for the protection of 

Antarctica and its dependent and associated ecosystems have inspired the development of 

international environmental law at large and that such a role of the Antarctic legal regime should 

continue to be developed progressively; 

Convinced that continued scientific research in Antarctica and the effective dissemination of its 

results are vital to our understanding of the Earth’s systems, especially in relation to climate 

change, and thus is crucial to the interest of all humankind; 
appendix • 325

Page 2 of 2

THE ANTARCTIC TREATY SUMMIT: 

Reiterates the view that Antarctica should remain a continent devoted to international cooperation, the pursuit of scientific endeavour, and that it should be used exclusively for peaceful 

purposes; 

Believes that the pristine nature of Antarctica as well as its aesthetic value will provide 

inspiration to present and future generations; 

Affirms that the Antarctic Treaty, strengthened by the constituents of the Antarctic Treaty 

System, remains the effective legal means to provide for the international governance of the 

continent and its surrounding waters; 

Encourages all States with an interest in the future of Antarctica to accede to the Antarctic 

Treaty and its associated instruments, thereby strengthening international commitment to it; 

Calls on all States to align themselves with the fundamental principles of peace and 

international co-operation, including importantly co-operation through science and to recognise 

that such principles are the cornerstones that guide activities in Antarctica; 

Further calls on all States to continue to improve and broaden co-operation in Antarctica taking 

into consideration that the interests of the international community are best served through such 

means; 

Supports the efforts of the Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research: to encourage scientific 

research in Antarctica which at the same time meets the requirements of excellence and 

relevance; to continue to foster co-operation amongst the international scientific community; 

and to facilitate assistance for those with limited resources and experience; 

Urges all States, organizations and individuals to eliminate impacts such as climate change, 

pollution or over-fishing that stem from outside the Antarctic Treaty area but which are harmful 

to the Antarctic environment; 

Encourages all States to draw on the lessons learned from the Antarctic experience in creating 

effective governance systems for spaces beyond national jurisdictions: 

Calls on all States in co-operation with the relevant non-governmental and inter-governmental 

organizations, to continue to improve and broaden co-operation in Antarctica recognizing that 

the interest of the international community are best served through such means, and urges that 

far-sighted, innovative and imaginative policies be developed to ensure that activities in 

Antarctica continue to be undertaken with the view to benefit humankind. 

Encourages other like-minded people to support this Declaration. 

This Declaration shall be distributed widely and shall be communicated by the coordinator of 

the Antarctic Treaty Summit to the General Assembly of the United Nations, the SecretaryGeneral of the United Nations and the governments of all States Parties to the Antarctic Treaty. 
326 • appendix

Page 3 of 2

FOREVER DECLARATION

Original Signatories on Behalf of Global Civil Society

On behalf of civil society - the Forever Declaration was signed originally by collaborators at the Antarctic 

Treaty Summit on 1 December 2009 and remains open for digital signature by anyone anywhere in the world 

(see www.atsummit50.aq). The Forever Declaration includes 113 original signatories (please see below and 

high-resolution image on the website), which include the following individuals who were involved in the 

ceremonial signing at the Antarctic Treaty Summit: 

His Serene Highness Prince Albert II of Monaco 

Members of the Forever Declaration Drafting Committee

Ambassador Jorge Berguño (Former Ambassador to the United Nations; Council for Antarctic 

Policy, Ministry of Foreign Affairs: Chile) 

Dr. Michael Richardson (Former Head of Polar Regions Section, Foreign & Commonwealth Office: 

United Kingdom) 

Judge Rüdiger Wolfrum (Director, Max Planck Institute for Comparative Public Law and 

International Law; Former President and Current Judge, International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea 

– Germany) 

Members of the International Board for the Antarctic Treaty Summit

Professor Paul Arthur Berkman (Chair, International Board for the Antarctic Treaty Summit; Head 

of Arctic Ocean Geopolitics Programme, Scott Polar Research Institute, University of Cambridge: 

United Kingdom; Research Professor, Bren School of Environmental Science and Management, 

University of California Santa Barbara: United States) 

Dr. Marie Jacobsson (Principal Legal Advisor on International Law, Ministry for Foreign Affairs; 

Member, International Law Commission of the United Nations: Sweden) 

Dr. Yeadong Kim (Former Director of the Korean Polar Research Institute: Republic of Korea) 

Mr. Michael Lang (Director, Smithsonian Marine Science Network and Director, Smithsonian 

Scientific Diving program, Office of the Under Secretary for Science, Smithsonian Institution: United 

States) 

Dr. José Retamales, (Director, Chilean Antarctic Institute; Chair, Council of Managers of National 

Antarctic Programs: Chile) 

Professor David W.H. Walton (Vice-Chair, International Board for the Antarctic Treaty Summit; 

Professor Emeritus, British Antarctic Survey, Cambridge; United Kingdom) 

Judge Rüdiger Wolfrum (see Forever Declaration Drafting Committee) 

Professor Oran R. Young (Professor, Bren School of Environmental Science & Management, 

University of California Santa Barbara; Chair, International Human Dimensions Programme on Global 

Environmental Change: United States) 

Professor Abdul Hamid Zakri (Director, Centre on Global Sustainability Studies, Universiti Sains; 

Vice President, Third World Academy of Sciences; Former Director, United Nations University – 

Institute of Advanced Studies: Malaysia) 
appendix • 327

Page 4 of 2


328 • appendix

Antarctic Treaty Summit Participants, from left to right: Jim Barnes, Gillian Triggs, Scott Miller, Cornelia Lüdecke, Michael A. Lang, Paul 

Arthur Berkman, Olav Orheim, Nina Federoff, H.S.H. Prince Albert II of Monaco, G. Wayne Clough, Aant Elzinga, Marie Jacobsson, Michael 

Richardson, R. Tucker Scully, David Walton, Stephen Rintoul, and Jorge Berguño. 
Figures in bold; Tables in italics

Advisory Committee on Marine Resources Research, 80

Agreed Measures for the Conservation of Antarctic Fauna and Flora (AMCAFF), 8–9, 

33, 44, 78, 90, 97, 103, 210, 273

Agreement Governing the Activities of States on the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies 

(Moon Agreement), 147, 283

Agreement on the Conservation of Albatross and Petrels, 219

albedo, 177, 179

American Polar Society, 2

Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station, 160, 270

Antarctica

astronomy and, 159, 198–200

bottom water in, 181

challenges, 98–99

characteristics of, 146, 296, 307

climate change and, 40, 155–57 (see also climate: change)

Cold War and, 61 (see also Cold War)

commercial activity in, 53

conservation plan for, 273

contamination in, 114, 137–38, 143, 145, 147–50, 170

continental shelf delimitation, 47

cryosphere, 158

current activities in, 153

demilitarisation of, 3, 7

ecosystems, 11, 33–34, 53–54, 94, 100–101, 104–6, 108, 116–18, 147, 156–57, 241, 

302 (see also environment)

environmental protection of, 9–10, 32, 36, 89–100, 302

exploration of, 161

as fresh water source, 155

genetic resources, 98, 99

geographical name use, 83–84

geosciences research themes, 154

glaciology and (see glaciers; glaciology)

global politics and, 2

global processes, 69

Index
330 • index

Antarctica (continued)

global significance of, 305

governance, 1, 20, 30, 37, 42, 273 (see also Antarctic Treaty)

history and policy development of, 295

human activities in, 32, 33, 36, 212

ice sheet, 2, 62–63, 155–58, 178, 179, 185, 267, 267, 269

infrastructure and logistics in, 269–70

internationalisation of, 5

international spaces and, 288, 306 (see also international 

spaces)

internet and telephone service in, 202

legal framework for, 1 (see also Antarctic Treaty)

marine living resources, 32–33

microbes, 147

military occupation of, 30

mineral resources of, 35, 45, 55, 58

monitoring of, 296

as nuclear-free peace zone, 30

outer space and, 133, 144–48, 145, 146 (see also outer space)

ozone and, 190–91 (see also ozone)

preservation of (see Antarctica: environmental protection of)

research in, 23, 59, 61, 65, 76, 154, 156, 162–63, 266 (see 

also specific research topic)

science in (see Antarctica: research in)

scientific cooperation in, 63, 306 (see also science)

security threats within, 47

snow and ice cover of, 157

Southern Annular Mode (SAM) and, 181–82, 182

South Pole of, 200–201

strategic importance of, 23

stratosphere, 190

subglacial lakes in, 157–58, 161, 169–71, 237, 269

telescopes, 199, 203–5 (see also astronomy)

territorial sovereignty and, 41, 43

tourism in (see tourism)

Treaty (see Antarctic Treaty)

United States policy in, 23

wilderness and esthetic value of, 277

as world natural park, 60

Antarctic and Southern Ocean Coalition (ASOC), 211, 220, 

272–73, 277–80

Antarctica’s Gamburtsev Province Project (AGAP), 157, 267

Antarctic Bioprospecting Database, 98

Antarctic Bottom Water (AABW), 176, 179, 181, 302

Antarctic Circumpolar Current (ACC), 176

Antarctic Climate Change and the Environment (ACCE), 220, 

308

Antarctic Convergence, 33, 53, 77, 80, 104, 302

Antarctic Flight Information Manual (AFIM), 234

Antarctic Geological Drilling Program (ANDRILL), 156, 269

Antarctic krill, 33, 98, 101

Antarctic Mineral Resources Regulatory Committee, 56–58

Antarctic Offshore Stratigraphy (ANTOSTRAT) Project, 

224–25, 224, 226, 227–28

Antarctic Peninsula, 30, 62, 98, 100, 155, 181, 217, 220, 224, 

243, 257, 280. See also King George Island

Antarctic Seismic Data Library System for Cooperative Research, 225–27. See also seismic activity

Antarctic Submillimeter Telescope and Remote Observatory 

(AST/RO), 199–200, 202

Antarctic Telecommunications Operational Manual (ATOM), 

234

Antarctic Treaty

Article I, 30, 54, 104

Article II, 6–7, 17, 24, 25, 30–31, 33–34, 42, 78, 104–6, 

108–10, 109, 112, 114, 134–35, 300, 302

Article III, 30, 32, 37, 84, 98, 99, 226, 271, 275

Article IV, 7–8, 10–11, 31–32, 34, 36, 38, 40, 43–44, 46–47, 

51–58, 91, 98–99, 103, 136–37, 282

Article V, 30, 247, 260

Article VI, 25, 30, 33, 45–46, 53–54, 100, 134–35, 250

Article VII, 30, 45, 54, 92, 134, 247

Article VIII, 45, 100

Article IX, 7–8, 10, 31–33, 44, 54, 90–91, 93, 103, 106, 118, 

137–38, 147, 209, 231, 275, 303

Article XII, 34, 54, 139, 211

Article XV, 10, 80, 117, 145

Article XVI, 10, 37, 89–92, 94, 97–98, 100, 216–17, 278, 

283–84, 291–92

challenges to, 46

cooperation obligation of, 4, 6, 282

countries participating in, 211

data access and, 84, 225–27, 274

development of, 8

early drafts of, 3

Eisenhower and, 5, 17–19, 21–25, 41, 76, 299, 304

environmental management and, 145, 150

evolution of, 2, 5–6, 32, 44, 154, 90 (see also Antarctic 

Treaty: negotiation of)

format of, 97

future improvements to, 278–80

implementation of, 91, 94, 145, 278

inclusion criteria, 59

intergovernmental organizations and, 271–72

international status of the high seas and, 25

jurisdiction and, 45–46

liability annex in, 10, 45, 83 (see also Antarctic Treaty: 

Article XVI)

mineral resources and, 10, 35, 45, 55, 58, 226 (see also 

mining)

modus vivendi and, 5

monitoring and, 296

negotiation of, 29

nongovernmental organizations and, 274

political and scientific agendas in, 65

reporting and, 296

Rules of Procedure in, 272, 275

science and, 59 (see also science)
index • 331

sealing and, 53 (see also sealing and seals)

signatories to, 232

signing of, 18

sovereign neutrality and, 41, 43

Soviet involvement in, 23 (see also Soviet Union)

transparency in, 278

United States Condominium Proposal and, 6

verification in, 296

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meetings (ATCMs), 8–9, 31–33, 

37, 45, 52, 55, 57–58, 74, 78, 81, 89, 90–92, 98, 104, 

144–45, 210–12, 215, 220, 226–27, 233, 248, 271–78, 

284, 303

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties (ATCPs), 8–10, 31–33, 

35–37, 40, 43–45, 48, 52–53, 55–56, 58, 79, 80, 82–87, 

90–94, 98–101, 210–12, 233, 266, 272–75, 278–79, 303. 

See also specific country

Antarctic Treaty Handbook, 274

Antarctic Treaty Secretariat, 37, 89, 91–94, 219

Antarctic Treaty System. See Antarctic Treaty

Arctic, the

characteristics of, 296, 307

economic development in, 297

governance in, 295, 296, 297, 306

scientific cooperation in, 63, 306 (see also science)

stratosphere, 191, 193

Arctic Climate Impact Assessment (ACIA), 308

Arctic Council, 296–97, 306–8

Arctic Ocean, 162, 228, 258, 269, 306

Argentina, 2, 4, 29–31, 40–41, 62, 76, 237

Argo floats, 158, 184, 184

Army Ballistic Missile Agency, 17, 22

astrobiology, 147

astronomy, 66, 159, 198–202. See also telescopes

atmospheric dust particles, 167–68

atomic tests, 59, 61. See also nuclear explosions; nuclear 

weapons

Australia, 4, 29–31, 41, 45, 99, 237, 251, 267

ballistic missiles, 17, 19, 20–21, 300, 304. See also nuclear 

weapons

Balloon Observations of Millimetric Extragalactic Radiation 

and Geophysics (BOOMERANG), 199, 204

Basel Convention on the Transboundary Movement of 

Hazardous Wastes and Their Disposal, 246–47

Belgium, 4, 10, 29–31, 41–42, 51, 61–63, 76, 98, 255, 267, 

300

Biological Investigations of Marine Antarctic Systems and 

Stocks (BIOMASS), 33, 79–80, 104, 272, 302

biological prospecting. See bioprospecting

bioprospecting, 11, 47, 83, 98–99, 101, 148, 273, 297, 301

bluefin tuna, 47. See also fisheries; harvesting

Brazil, 37, 41–42, 80, 101, 235, 269

Britain. See United Kingdom

British Antarctic Survey, 63, 65, 80, 126, 190, 251, 259

bromocarbons, 190, 193. See also chlorofluorocarbons; hydrocarbons; ozone

bycatch, 35, 113. See also fisheries; harvesting

Byrd, Richard Evelyn, 257

Canada, 70, 98, 125, 128, 135, 193

carbon dioxide, anthropogenic, 171, 176–78, 178, 182, 185

Census of Antarctic Marine Life (CAML), 156, 269

Center for Astrophysical Research in Antarctica (CARA), 199

chemolithoautotrophic microorganisms, 171

Chile, 2, 4, 29–31, 40–42, 62, 237

China, 37, 76, 80, 98, 135, 267

chlorofluorocarbons, 125–27, 189–90, 193, 194. See also bromocarbons; hydrocarbons; ozone

climate

Antarctic science and, 155

change, 40, 62, 64–65, 87, 100–101, 117, 124, 155–56, 158, 

163, 165, 171, 182–83, 190, 193, 219–20, 224, 268–69, 

273, 275, 293, 296–97, 305

high-resolution records of, 155

record, 167–68

research, 279

sedimentary records of, 156

Southern Ocean and, 179 (see also Southern Ocean)

variability, 155, 167–68, 169

See also environment

coastal state jurisdiction, 54, 56

cold seep communities, 156

Cold War, 17, 19, 22–24, 30–31, 40–42, 51, 59–61, 76, 133–34, 

137, 143–44, 146, 148, 166, 259–60, 266, 274, 295, 304

Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS), 53, 

58, 97–8, 306

Commission to Study the Organization of Peace, 2

Committee for Environmental Protection (CEP), 45, 83, 86, 

114, 146, 163, 213–20, 213, 214, 236, 279

Committee on Space Research (COSPAR), 137–38, 144, 147, 

149–50. See also outer space

Panel on Exploration (PEX), 149

Planetary Protection Panel, 150

Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space (COPUOS), 

134–35, 137, 138, 140, 144, 147–48

common heritage principle, 281–84, 287–89

Concordiasi project, 269

conservation. See Antarctica: environmental protection of; Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living 

Resources; Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic 

Seals; environment

Consultative Meetings. See Antarctic Treaty Consultative 

Meetings

Consultative Parties. See Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties

contamination, 114, 137–38, 143, 145, 147–50, 170

continental shelf claims, 97–98, 101

Convention for the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource 

Activities, 52. See also mining
332 • index

Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD), 246–47, 277, 305

Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living 

Resources (CCAMLR)

Antarctic Treaty and, 34, 52, 212 (see also Antarctic Treaty: 

Article IV)

area, 105

BIOMASS and, 79–80

characteristics of, 106

climate change and, 117

Commission for, 37, 54

Ecosystem Monitoring Program (CEMP), 106, 117

fisheries and, 109–11, 110, 157 (see also fisheries; harvesting)

geographic scope of, 33, 105

history of, 33–35, 80, 210

institutionalisation of Antarctica and, 9

management, 35, 106, 108

marine protected areas (MPAs) and, 114, 115, 278

mineral resources and, 35

as model provision, 38

role and scope of, 46, 104, 106

science and, 104, 106

scientific committee of, 34

small scale management units and, 112, 113, 114 (see also 

small-scale management units)

small scale research units and, 114 (see also small-scale 

research units)

South Orkney Islands Southern Shelf, 115

spatial management by, 113–14

vulnerable marine ecosystems (VME) risk areas for longline 

fisheries, 116

Convention on the Conservation of Antarctic Seals (CCAS), 

8–9, 33, 44, 52–53, 79, 97, 103, 210, 272–73, 302–3

Convention on the High Seas, 17, 24, 25, 282, 304

Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), 9, 55, 65, 97, 

100, 135, 140, 148, 228, 272, 281–84, 289–90, 292, 304

Convention on the Prevention of Marine Pollution by Dumping 

of Wastes and Other Matter (London Convention), 289

Convention on the Prohibition of Military or Any Other Hostile Use of Environmental Modification Techniques, 290

Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource 

Activities (CRAMRA), 9–10, 35, 45, 55–56, 58, 65, 81, 

83, 85, 97, 99, 139–40, 210–12, 283, 291, 301

Cook, James, 70–71, 176

cosmic microwave background (CMB) radiation, 198–200, 

202–3, 200, 205

Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs (COMNAP), 37, 82, 84–87, 162–63, 212–13, 232–38, 233, 269, 

303

Cousteau, Jacques, 190

cryosphere, 158, 177, 267

deep seabed, 282–83

Deep Sea Drilling Project, 272

demilitarization, 59, 90, 256, 260, 304. See also military

Denmark, 98, 256, 261

Dome Concordia, 161

Dome Fuji, 62, 171

Drake Passage, 176

drift stations, 258

Dronning Maud Land Air Network (DROMLAN), 162, 

235–36

Dronning Maud Land Shipment (DROMSHIP), 162

dropsonde, 269, 269

Dulles, John Foster, 19, 23

earth system science, 154, 270, 300

ecosystems. See Antarctica: ecosystems; environment

Eisenhower, Dwight, 5, 17–19, 21–25, 41, 76, 299, 304. See 

also Antarctic Treaty: evolution of

elephant seals, 71, 103, 185. See also sealing and seals

environment

bioprospecting and, 11, 47, 83, 98–99, 101, 148, 273, 297, 

301

climate and (see climate)

ecosystems and (see Antarctica: ecosystems)

greenhouse gases and (see greenhouse gases)

Greenland records and, 168–69

hyperarid regions of, 165

ice in (see ice)

management, 145, 150

mining and (see mining)

ocean (see ocean; Southern Ocean)

ozone and (see ozone)

protection of, 9–10, 32, 36, 89–100, 302

reconstruction of past, 168

stewardship of, 149–50, 154

subglacial aquatic, 157–58 (see also subglacial lakes)

tourism and, 47 (see also tourism)

Environmental Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 

(EPBC), 45

Environment Protocol (Article XVI, Antarctic Treaty), 10, 37, 

89–92, 94, 97–98, 100, 209–11, 216–17, 278, 283–84, 

291–92

Escudero proposal, 3–4, 7, 12, 41

European Antarctic Project (EAP), 61–63, 127–28

European Committee for Ocean and Polar Science (ECOPS), 

64–65

European Project for Ice Coring in Antarctica (EPICA), 62–65, 

156, 162, 168, 171

European Science Foundation (ESF), 64, 162

European Space Agency (ESA), 150

European Space Foundation (ESF), 150

European Space Policy Institute (ESPI), 150

European Space Research Organization (ESRO), 259

Falkland Island Dependencies Survey, 259

Falkland Islands. See Malvinas

finfish, 101, 104, 109, 111. See also fisheries
index • 333

fisheries

illegal, 11, 35, 111, 279

management, 109, 109, 111, 116, 279

See also specific fish

Forum of Arctic Research Operators (FARO), 163

France, 4, 29–31, 40, 76, 256

Freedom of Space doctrine, 17, 21–22, 24, 304. See also outer 

space

freedom of the seas, 17, 21

fur seals, 79, 103. See also harvesting; sealing and seals

Gaia hypothesis, 299

Gamburtsev Mountains, 157, 267

geoengineering, 185

Germany, 9, 60–63, 72, 83–84, 86, 98, 101, 149, 215, 251, 

255–56, 258, 261, 267

glaciers, 40, 101, 124, 158, 165, 170

glaciology, 29, 61–63, 166

Glaciology of the Antarctic Peninsula project, 62. See also 

glaciology

global interdependence, 24

Global Ozone Observing System, 124. See also ozone

global warming potentials (GWP), 128, 194. See also climate: 

change

governance

of Antarctica, 1, 20, 30, 37, 42, 273

of the Arctic, 295–97, 306 (see also Arctic, the)

of deep seabed, 292 (see also deep seabed)

of international spaces, 25, 289–93

Great Britain. See United Kingdom

greenhouse gases, 124, 156, 165, 168, 178, 182, 191, 193, 

291, 293. See also carbon dioxide, anthropogenic; climate: 

change

Greenland, 63–64, 158, 168, 169, 268, 301

Greenland Ice Core Project (GRIP), 64

Greenland Ice Sheet Project 2 (GISP2), 64

Group of Specialists on Environmental Affairs and Conservation (GOSEAC), 83, 213

halocarbons, 191. See also chlorofluorocarbons; ozone: hole

harvesting, 33–35, 54, 71, 104–6, 109, 110, 112, 157, 290, 

302. See also fisheries; harvesting; sealing and seals; whales 

and whaling

hazardous waste, 246. See also ocean dumping; waste

Holland. See Netherlands, the

Hughes Doctrine, 256

Humane Society International (HSI), 40, 45–46, 99

hydrocarbons, 81, 97, 224–25, 272, 291. See also bromocarbons; chlorofluorocarbons; ozone

hyperarid regions, 165

ice

accretion, 169, 170

breakers, 162

core (see ice core)

sheets, 154

Ice and Climate Evolution of the Central Antarctic Plate (ICECAP), 157. See also climate

ice core

contamination, 170

drilling, 62, 63, 165, 167

records, 40, 64, 155–56, 168, 268, 301

See also climate: change; sedimentary cores

IceCube telescope, 159. See also telescopes

illegal, unregulated, and unreported (IUU) fishing and tourism, 

11, 35, 111, 279. See also fisheries

India, 5–6, 37, 41–42, 80, 98, 251, 304

Indian Ocean Tuna Commission, 48

information availability, 84, 225–27, 274

Integrated Ocean Drilling Program (IODP), 156

intellectual property rights, 99, 226

Inter-Agency Space Debris Coordination Committee (IADC), 

147. See also outer space: debris

Intergovernmental Oceanographic Commission (IOC), 9, 272

Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), 64, 85, 

156, 171, 183, 194, 220, 250, 267

International Academy of Astronautics (IAA), 149

International Arctic Science Committee (IASC), 162, 261, 306

International Association for Biological Oceanography (IABO), 

80

International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators 

(IAATO), 47, 220, 237, 241–43, 273. See also tourism

International Convention for the Prevention of Pollution from 

Ships (MARPOL), 246, 248

International Convention for the Regulation of Whaling 

(ICRW), 46, 100. See also whales and whaling

International Council for Science (ICSU), 20, 32, 60, 76, 144, 

260, 271

International Council of Scientific Unions (ICSU), 20, 60, 64, 

76–79, 85, 144, 154, 260–61, 271, 292, 307. See also

International Council for Science

International Court of Justice, 3, 5, 41, 45, 100

International Geographical Union (IGU), 76

International Geophysical Year (IGY), 5, 7, 17, 20–23, 29, 42, 

51, 59, 61, 70, 72–73, 75, 89, 124, 133, 144, 154, 165, 

190, 231, 241, 260, 265–66, 274, 299–300

International Geosphere-Biosphere Programme (IGBP), 64, 85, 

300

International Hydrographic Organization (IHO), 91, 273

internationalism, 5, 60, 66. See also international spaces

International Maritime Organization (IMO), 237, 242–43, 246, 

249–51, 257, 277–79

International Polar Year (IPY), 20, 29, 72, 257, 299

International Research Council (IRC), 60, 257

International Seabed Authority (ISA), 282–83

International Society for the Exploration of the Arctic Regions 

by Means of Aircraft (AEROARCTIC), 257–58, 258, 260. 

See also transport systems
334 • index

international spaces

appropriation and nonappropriation of, 135

definition of, 288

governance of, 25, 289–93

human activities in, 293

legal and political status of, 289–90

security and, 291

International Telecommunication Union (ITU), 136, 138, 283, 

293

International Trans-Antarctic Scientific Expedition (ITASE), 268

International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, 45, 284

International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), 9, 47, 

81, 87, 220, 272–74

International Union of Biological Sciences (IUBS), 76

International Union of Geodesy and Geophysics (IUGG), 76

International Union of Pure and Applied Physics (IUPAP), 76

International Whaling Commission (IWC), 9, 46, 71, 99, 272, 

277–78. See also harvesting; whales and whaling

Intersessional Legal and Related Issues Working Group on 

Ocean Fertilization, 251. See also ocean dumping: ocean 

fertilization as

Ireland, 256

Italy, 10, 62, 83, 256, 269

Japan, 19, 29–31, 41–42, 46, 51, 73–74, 76, 98–101, 129, 256, 

300, 304

Japanese Antarctic Research Expedition (JARE), 73

Japanese Whale Research Programme, 100

Japanese Whaling Case, 45. See also whales and whaling

Joint Committee for Antarctic Data Management (JCADM), 85

Joint Convention on the Safety of Spent Fuel Management and 

on the Safety of Radioactive Waste Management, 246. See 

also waste

King George Island, 66, 161, 235–36, 243

krill fishery, 106–7, 110, 110–12, 117–18, 210, 279

Kyoto Protocol, 128, 193

Lake Vostok, 157, 169–71, 215. See also glaciology; Vostok 

station

Larson Ice Shelf System (LARISSA), 101, 156, 267–68

Law of the Sea Convention. See United Nations: Convention on 

the Law of the Sea

LOHAFEX ocean fertilization experiment, 245, 248, 251. See 

also ocean dumping: ocean fertilization as

London (Dumping) Convention, 246. See also ocean dumping; 

waste

longline fishing, 116. See also fisheries; harvesting

Lunar Crater Observation and Sensing Satellite (LCROSS), 148

Lunar Prospector, 148

Madrid Protocol on Antarctic Environmental Protection to the 

Antarctic Treaty, 36, 37, 45–46, 65, 212, 226, 246–48, 

251, 300–302, 305

Malaysia, 37, 304

Malvinas, 41, 47, 257, 257

marine acoustics, 84

marine mammals, 35, 71. See also harvesting; sealing and seals; 

whales and whaling

Marine Protected Areas, 114, 115

McCarthyism, 18

McMurdo Ice Shelf, 269

medical care and evacuation, 91. See also search and rescue

methane, 81, 168, 189, 191

microwave background anisotropy measurements, 201

military

activities in outer space, 139

bases, 30, 52, 137, 293

expeditions to Antarctica, 2

fortifications, 30, 52, 137, 293

manoeuvres, 52, 137

nuclear weapons and (see nuclear weapons)

mining, 35, 45, 47, 81, 139, 149, 210, 254, 256, 259, 283–84, 

291–92

Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer 

(Montreal Protocol), 123–24, 127–30, 193, 296, 302

Moon Agreement. See Agreement Governing the Activities of 

States on the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies; outer space

multichannel seismic reflection (MCS), 225–28, 225. See also 

seismic activity

NASA, 136, 202

National Academy of Sciences, 30, 76, 125, 126, 271

National Science Foundation (United States), 63, 79, 82, 199, 

202, 265

National Security Council (NSC), 20

Netherlands, the, 61–62, 98, 124, 256

New Zealand, 3–6, 9, 19, 29–31, 41, 47, 51, 53, 55, 62, 76, 

78, 81–82, 97–98, 162, 215, 237, 251, 270

nitrous oxide, 124, 191, 251

Non-Consultative Parties (NCPs) to the Antarctic Treaty, 10, 

37, 43, 80, 133–37, 140, 147, 148, 272, 274–75, 282

North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 259

Norway, 3–5, 19, 29–31, 40–41, 51, 60, 62–63, 72, 76, 78–79, 

91, 98, 193, 254, 256, 258–59, 280

territorial sovereignty and, 40

Norwegian-British-Swedish Expedition (NBSX), 72, 259

Norwegian Polar Institute, 256, 259

nuclear explosions, 23, 42, 52

nuclear weapons, 18–19, 22, 24, 136, 143–44, 290, 304, 308 

(see also ballistic missiles)

ocean

acidification, 158, 293 (see also carbon dioxide, anthropogenic)

acoustics, 84

dead zones, 291 (see also Southern Ocean)

deep seabed, 283–84

dumping (see ocean dumping)
index • 335

salinity, 180

Southern (see Southern Ocean)

temperature, 180

Ocean Biogeographic Information System (OBIS), 156

ocean dumping

control of, 245–46, 248

laws, 246

national, 246

ocean fertilization as, 245, 247–51

waste discharge and, 292

See also waste

Office of Polar Programs (OPP), 82

Open Skies doctrine, 21, 23–24, 304

Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), 35, 81

outer space

compared to Antarctica, 133

control of activities in, 134

debris, 134, 137, 138, 139, 140, 147, 148, 293

human activities in, 136, 293

international cooperation in, 137 (see also Outer Space Treaty)

as international space, 288 (see also international spaces)

law, 134, 138, 283 (see also Outer Space Treaty)

military activity and, 136

mineral resources and, 147–48

protection of, 137

regulation of, 138

weaknesses of, 137

weaponisation of, 22, 136

Outer Space Treaty, 134–35, 137, 139, 144–45, 146, 147–48, 

289–90, 292–93, 304–5. See also outer space

ozone

cancer and, 124–25, 130, 190

-depleting substances (ODS), 124–30, 193 (see also bromocarbons; chlorofluorocarbons; hydrocarbons)

depletion, 190–93

hole, 40, 101, 124, 126–28, 155, 161, 190, 193–94, 237, 297

layer, 123–30, 190, 192, 193, 291, 293

monitoring network, 128

Montreal Protocol and, 193 (see also Montreal Protocol on 

Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer)

records, 191, 192

-safe technologies, 128

paleoclimatology, 64

paleohistory, 154

Panel on Planetary Protection (PPP), 138

Panel on Potentially Environmentally Detrimental Activities in 

Space (PEDAS), 138

penguins, 73, 101, 181, 297

Peru, 41, 269

phytoplankton, 158, 177, 181, 185, 248, 250, 302, 305

Planning Group on Antarctic Data Management, 84

Polar Earth Observing Network (POLENET), 157–58, 267

Polar Front, 77

polar regions

astronomical observations and, 158 (see also telescopes)

characteristics of, 146, 296, 307

climate and (see climate)

ecosystems of (see Antarctica: ecosystems)

global significance of, 305

governance of, 1, 20, 30, 37, 42, 273, 295–97, 306 (see also 

Antarctic Treaty)

as international spaces (see international spaces)

mining activities in (see mining)

oceans in (see Southern Ocean)

ozone and (see ozone)

research nations in, 161 (see also science)

science and (see science; specific discipline)

tourism in (see also tourism)

waste handling in (see ocean dumping; waste)

wilderness and esthetic value of, 277

See also Antarctica; Arctic, the

Polar Year. See International Polar Year

Portugal, 69

prospecting, 55. See also bioprospecting; mining

Protecting the Environment of Celestial Bodies (PECB), 149

Protocol on Environmental Protection to the Antarctic Treaty, 

10, 24, 36–37, 45, 52, 58, 65, 81, 86, 89–90, 97, 135, 139, 

146, 210, 212, 216, 219, 241, 246, 278, 283, 291, 300

Protocol to the London Convention, 246, 248

Rainbow Warrior attack, 47

remote sensing, 133, 136, 147, 224

rescue coordination centers, 237

research

Antarctica and, 23, 59, 61, 65, 76, 154, 156, 162–63, 266

(see also specific research topic)

challenges to, 161

climate, 279

organizations for, 98–99 (see also specific organization)

stations, 66, 161 (see also Vostok station)

vessels, 79, 84, 162, 269

See also science

Ross Ice Shelf Project (RISP), 62

Ross Sea, 79, 81, 116, 215, 224, 272, 279. See also Southern 

Ocean

Royal Society of Britain, 70, 76, 293, 308

runways, blue ice, 162

Russia. See Soviet Union

satellites, 17, 21–22, 24, 128, 136, 139, 144, 147, 158, 202, 

205, 268, 283, 300, 303–4. See also outer space

science

as confidence-building activity, 125

cooperation in, 306

diplomacy and, 127, 300–301, 304, 308

early warning role of, 124

as force for change, 125
336 • index

science (continued)

freedom of, 3–7, 30, 32, 38, 99, 42, 52, 101, 103, 123, 265, 

300, 303–4

future trends in, 154–56 (see also specific discipline)

industry and, 126

internationalism in, 60

international value of, 305

for monitoring, reporting, and verification, 128

political agendas and, 65

public participation in, 272, 274–75

regulatory performance and, 128

See also polar regions; research; specific discipline

Scientific Committee on Antarctic Research (SCAR)

Antarctic Climate Evolution (ACE) program, 156, 176, 179, 

183

Antarctic Seismic Data Library System for Cooperative Research (SDLS), 226–28, 226 (see also seismic activity)

Antarctic treaty and, 78, 80, 226

BIOMASS program of (see Biological Investigations of 

Marine Antarctic Systems and Stocks)

conservation and, 80–81

geographical names and, 83–84

goals of, 231–32

history of, 32, 60, 76–77, 77, 144, 231–33, 273

IASC Bipolar Action Group (BipAG), 163

logistics and, 82–83, 162–63, 269

Marine Biodiversity Information Network (SCAR-MarBIN), 

156, 219

membership in, 161, 163

minerals and, 81, 210

organization of, 261

reorganisation of, 85–86

research library of, 226–27, 226

role and influence of, 32, 34, 80, 86, 163, 219, 260

sealing and, 33, 53, 79

Working Group on Logistics (WGL), 232

Scientific Committee on Oceanic Research (SCOR), 9, 80, 104, 

272

Scott Polar Research Institute, 62, 63

seabed. See deep seabed

sea level increases, 124, 158, 177, 179, 181, 267, 268, 302

sealing and seals, 2, 33, 35, 71, 79, 210, 254, 260

search and rescue (SAR), 47, 91, 235, 237, 238, 297

Sea Shepherd Conservation Society, 47

Second International Polar Year, 20, 257. See also International 

Polar Year

sedimentary cores, 155. See also ice core

seismic activity, 62, 84, 157–58, 224, 227–28, 268, 302

Shackleton, Edward, 2, 266

Shallow Drilling on the Antarctic Continental Margin 

(SHALDRILL), 156

small-scale management units (SSMUs), 108, 112, 113, 113, 

118

small-scale research units (SSRUs), 114, 114, 247

South Africa, 4, 6, 29–31, 41–42, 47, 51, 76, 78, 162, 235–37, 

300

Southern Annular Mode (SAM), 181–82, 182

Southern Ocean

acidification, 158

carbon dioxide absorbance by, 176, 179, 182–84

characteristics of, 179–83, 269

current systems, 177

definition of, 176

dumping (see ocean dumping)

earth system and, 175–79

food webs, 157

future change in, 183

models, 158–59, 183–84

oceanography, 176

overturning circulation, 176–77, 178, 183

research on, 161, 184–85

science policy and, 185

surface wind over, 183

upwelling, 176

warming, 155, 176, 179, 183

Southern Ocean Observing System (SOOS), 185

Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary, 99–100

South Georgia, 44, 71, 77, 255

South Pole, 166–67, 199. See also Antarctica; polar regions

South Pole Station, 199, 201–2, 260, 270

South Pole Telescope, 199, 203. See also astronomy

sovereignty. See territorial sovereignty

Soviet Antarctic Expedition, 166

Soviet Union, 5, 22, 29, 41, 256, 267. See also Vostok station

space. See outer space

Spain, 69, 98

Special Meetings on Antarctic Mineral Resources, 74. See also 

Convention on the Regulation of Antarctic Mineral Resource Activities; mining

Sputnik, 17, 22, 78, 133, 304. See also Soviet Union

stable isotopes, 167

Straddling Fish Stocks Agreement, 289. See also fisheries; 

harvesting

subglacial lakes, 157–58, 161, 169–71, 237, 269

Subsidiary Group on Management Plans (SGMP), 218–19

Super Dual Auroral Radar Network (SuperDARN), 159

superpressure balloons, 269

Svalbard Treaty, 253, 256, 258–60

Sweden, 62, 72, 86, 98, 125–26, 193

telescopes, 149, 159, 202–3, 205. See also astronomy

territorial sovereignty, 30–31, 34, 40–41, 43–44, 47, 52–56, 99, 

300

toothfish, 111, 113–14, 116, 279

tourism

Antarctic Treaty Consultative Meeting (ATCM) and, 8, 91

control of, 278

cooperative nature of, 241–43
index • 337

development in Antarctica, 11, 242–43

environmental risks of, 47

incidents, 243

regulation and management of, 242

ships for, 91–92

tour operators and, 241–43

Transitional Environmental Working Group (TEWG), 212

transport systems, 162. See also International Society for the 

Exploration of the Arctic Regions by Means of Aircraft

trawler fleets, 79. See also fisheries; harvesting

Treaty Banning Nuclear Weapon Tests in the Atmosphere, in 

Outer Space and Under Water, 136

Treaty of Tordesillas, 69, 257

Treaty of Westphalia, 299

Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the 

Exploration and Use of Outer Space, including the Moon 

and Other Celestial Bodies, 136, 289

Union Radio Scientifique Internationale (URSI), 76

United Kingdom, 2, 4, 29–31, 40–41, 62, 76, 256, 267

United Nations

Agreement Relating to the Conservation and Management of 

Straddling Fish Stocks and Migratory Fish Stocks, 284

Commission on the Limits of the Continental Shelf (CLCS), 

97–8

Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), 9, 53, 47, 53, 

55, 137, 145, 148, 228, 246, 272, 281–84, 289, 292, 304

Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization 

(UNESCO), 2, 60, 66, 138, 246, 272

Environment Program (UNEP), 81, 126–28, 220, 273

Environment Program Coordinating Committee on the 

Ozone Layer, 126 (see also ozone: layer)

Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), 9, 126, 272, 274

Outer Space Treaty, 143 (see also outer space)

Trusteeship Council, 2

United States, 2, 21, 29, 31, 41, 256, 267

Antarctic Development Project, 2, 259

Condominium Proposal, 6

Draft Declaration on Antarctica, 4

upwelling, 155, 176–77, 183

Uruguay, 41, 80, 269, 280

Vienna Convention for the Protection of the Ozone Layer, 123, 

126. See also ozone: layer

Viper telescope, 199, 202–3. See also astronomy; telescopes

Vostok station, 165–68, 166, 171. See also glaciology; ice core; 

subglacial lakes

waste

ocean dumping of (see ocean dumping)

hazardous, 246

incineration, 248

management plans, 92, 248

weaponisation, 22, 139–40

weapons, 52. See also nuclear weapons

Weddell Gyre, 266

Weddell Sea, 224, 266

West Antarctic Ice Sheet (WAIS), 158. See also Antarctic: ice 

sheet

Whale Protection Act (Australia), 99

whales and whaling, 2, 7, 35, 40, 45–47, 71, 99–101, 103, 

253–57, 260

Wilkins Ice Shelf, 101

Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, 2

Working Party for European Polar Research (WPEPR), 62

World Data Centres, 77, 84

World Meteorological Organization (WMO), 76, 124, 126, 

128, 190, 193, 272–74

World Plan of Action on the Ozone Layer, 126. See also ozone: 

layer

World Wildlife Fund (WWF), 81

zeppelin expedition, 258
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