A QUESTION OF SURVIVAL

Road along the Facade

Albion Brechalov,
Advisor to the State Duma Committee
On the North and Far East

         In the Far North, spring comes as late as the end of May or early June along with the drifting ice. But by the end of April the sun shines so brightly that going outside without a pair of sunglasses is not recommended. Little by little, the sun that never sets, and the spring wind start gnawing at the snowdrifts, sharpening sheets of ice into thin, snowy daggers in the open spaces, especially on the vast white surface of the frozen northern rivers, like the Yenisei, where the author lived for almost a quarter of a century.
        It was on one of these days, at the very end of April more than twenty years ago, that I happened to admire the frozen Yenisei from the captain's bridge of the "Kapitan Sorokin" icebreaker, which was leading a convoy of two ships in the first arctic winter navigation from Murmansk to Dudinka. In the Gulf of Yenisei on the Kara Sea and on the river Yenisei itself, there was still ice several metres thick. On its snow-white surface, merging with the riverbanks and the sky above, there was a blackened channel of clean water as straight as an arrow, which had been made by the icebreaker and was slightly steaming in the frost while two large ships and a beautiful icebreaker slowly moved along it. More than a month after this historic event, there were the long-awaited ice floes on the Yenisei, and another routine navigation on the "open waters" began.
        The people of the North look forward to the ice floes and prepare themselves accordingly. By that time, the piers of the unique Dudinka sea port, the only one of its kind, become completely relieved of their cargo as it is lifted by the tall port cranes onto the high river banks which are not prone to flooding. On the piers, the rails are separated from the crossties and part of the crane and cargo rails are covered with gravel. All of this is done in an attempt to save the piers from the devastating power of the ice. Then, after the ice floes have passed, everything that had been altered is quickly put back to normal in order to start the navigation.
        Thus, in early June water starts rising fiercely in the great Siberian river. The ice rises to become level with the piers. Finally, the enormous mass of ice, destroying everything in its path, starts moving, and even the mightiest icebreakers are unable to resist its power. The ice floes on the Yenisei River are a most majestic and unforgettable sight. It seems that the air above the river gets thicker. It absorbs all the strange sounds while, at the same time, one can hear even the quietest cracks, rings and sighs of the slabs of ice. They climb one on top of the other, they clash with the sound of crystal clinking and, eventually, as if hissing with spite, they creep out onto the shore. The water in the river rises by 16 to 18 metres. The port piers remain somewhere down under the turbid water, covered with dirty, greenish foam.
        One can never forget the miracles of the ice floes and arctic winter navigation. They are like symbols of the power of nature and, at the same time, of the human intellect. In the 1970s and 1980s, the Northern Sea Route, on which Dudinka was one of the major seaports, was rightly considered to be one of the largest sea routes in our country. Unfortunately, now it has become history. However, a relatively short time ago, our world leadership in ice navigation was incontestable.
For as long as we can remember, Russian travellers and navigators have been risking their lives in order to develop northern territories and northern seas. Nowadays, their efforts for the benefit of the consolidation of Russia have depreciated. Apparently, the state has lost interest in its Far North. Throughout these recent years, the romanticism about the North has vanished, too. There is little romanticism when the mere survival of entire regions and their native people is at stake. However, one should remember that among the many functions determining the significance of the northern territories for Russia, there are at least five, which strongly affect their role in the fate of the state. They are:

• economic: the North provides the country with two thirds of its hard currency incomes and about 20 percent of its national income;
• defence: it is the sea "facade" of the state, almost half of the country's border, and provides access to the world ocean;
• ethnocultural: 30 minorities live here;
• reserve: the Russian North is the territorial, ecological and resource reserve not only for Russia, but for the entire planet;
• geopolitical, mainly for transport.