The Orbital Funnel

Black and white. That is the world modern competition lives in, while two clocks count the pace of nations working ceaselessly for leverage.

The place is the Arctic; and the space above it. The ticking of clocks poses a pressure of timeline; one measured in years, the other in minutes and seconds.

In the most desolate regions accessible to humanity, there is strategy, there is power, and there is politics. Not unlike the plastics which have been found in the deepest reaches of the world’s oceans, mankind leaves a mark truly universally. The paradigm of a white landscape contrasted with one almost entirely black is a remarkable juxtaposition, one which, nevertheless, serves as a modern point of friction. The Arctic serves as an orbital funnel in two ways, firstly as a zone with maximal satellite traffic density as well as maximal global navigation satellite systems (GNSS), thus making it a distinct proving ground for electronic warfare as well as a competition in two of the most recent frontiers.¹ Space and the Arctic, both unclaimed, serve as proving grounds for rising powers, such as China, and vulnerable spaces for nations which, despite their power, have not seized them, such as the United States. The physical strategy employed in the Arctic is traditional; like most traditional warfare, one purely of hardware, constructed of icebreakers and ships, not distant satellites. Despite that, and due to the ever-hastening timeline of AI advancements and increased necessity for satellites, this pressure, as such technology becomes increasingly ubiquitous, applies to the Arctic and, more importantly, the space above it.

The transit time of the Northern Sea Route is measured in multiple weeks,² while the procurement and commission of icebreakers is measured in years,³ and the Coast Guard’s SAR response time is measured in days. A polar orbital period of a polar satellite is, by contrast, roughly 90 minutes; while the utility of those satellites for GPS and GNSS is measured in sub-seconds; data transferred from space to a system of location and pathfinding, which can be jammed or spoofed by an attack, thus deactivating all the advantages of knowing one’s location. These ticking clocks are not only a matter of speed, but also distance; they hold little direct influence on one another. That is to say, a nation can have a formidable icebreaker fleet, as Russia does, and still be strategically and navigationally blind, while another state which may not come near the ice floes of the Arctic is able to exercise its presence through electronic warfare (EW) capability and space-based intel.

The lack of connection, wherein the approach to the Arctic has been primarily physical, based in the practicality of icebreakers and utility of resources in the Arctic, without acknowledging the critical nature of the systems which hover just above, leads to a blind spot. One cannot measure geopolitics merely in the cost or tonnage of an icebreaker, nor the count in a fleet, and believe they hold a holistic picture, while discounting a critical technology.

The practical criticality of orbital mechanics lies in the unique shape and nature of Earth’s poles. Nowhere else does the world converge, like at its poles, creating the perfect environment to establish a consistent local solar time without fail. Simply put, the reason most communications satellites roam the poles, or are otherwise near-polar, is that it provides information valuable for imaging, weather monitoring, and systematic surveillance.⁴ Orbits which provide consistency in turn provide quality; polar orbits do both. Because satellite ground tracks are widely spaced at the equator due to the Earth’s width, they are able to record long stretches of Earth without the same depth of data. As such, satellite tracks necessarily converge when approaching the poles, so that every polar-orbiting satellite crosses the North Pole region on every single orbit, regardless of which longitude its ground track is established on.⁵ Effectively, for satellites, all roads lead to the North Pole.

The Polar Scout mission established this geometric notion, as two 6U CubeSats were launched in 2018, with a sun-synchronous orbit at roughly 575km altitude, with a 98-degree inclination, which were built to detect and geolocate emergency beacon transmissions from Arctic vessels.^{6 7 8} Each satellite passes over the North Pole every 90-100 minutes. That is 15 to 16 orbits a day, with over 3 total hours of cumulative Arctic SAR coverage per day; because the Arctic is so small and serves as a pinpoint of the globe, as a pole, satellites can orbit it faster.⁹ That means more data, more depth, more clarity, and higher quality. The equator, by contrast, has no such benefits.

The Coast Guard’s Polar Scout mission serves as an indication of the viability of polar satellites, despite the fact that it was deliberately constructed as a low-cost gap-filler to buy time ahead of the more complete Medium Earth Orbit Search and Rescue (MEOSAR) capability the US Coast Guard (USCG) was working towards.^{10 11} This also reflects how thinly spread the resources for Arctic-space-related endeavors are, and the criticality of the US Arctic domain awareness, all the while orbital geometry resting just above the Arctic is in fact favorable to dense coverage. In short, Polar Scout is not only an example merely of the quality specific to polar-orbiting satellites, but also exemplifies the problem with the Arctic-Space Domain in US strategic policy; it ignores what is out of sight and out of reach, by resting in space.

The consequences of evolution fall in line with the benefits. The strategy of GPS sits at 55 degrees, no higher. Until, of course, it did, in the Arctic. This high-latitude geometry, which allows for dense satellite overflight, in turn degrades the accuracy of GPS, as every satellite for GPS sits inclined 55 degrees to the equator.¹² This configuration was optimized to provide strong, evenly spread satellite geometry, while other satellites overhead or otherwise spread out around the horizon mapped the globe. And yet, exceeding 55 degrees latitude, the geometry of satellites shatters; no GPS satellite passes directly overhead, and by the time a receiver reaches the Earth’s pole, visible GPS satellites are clustered no higher than 45 degrees above the horizon. And so, little black dots sit in the evening sky, invisible until they catch and reflect the light of the setting sun, and trickle past in dreams like the soft tears rolling down the face of the sky, as it lies on its side.

That image is a striking one, and yet there are more striking images still, or, perhaps, the lack of images. A loss of GPS, of satellites, of Western authority over space and EW; that is what polar satellites and their nature change. The threat of technological darkness is hopefully as memorable as those teardrops.

Russia is structurally positioned better to exploit the gap in GPS operations in the High North than any other Nordic or Arctic state. The practical result of the satellites sitting higher than 55 degrees is a loss in positioning accuracy, particularly in the vertical dimension, for any GPS-dependent platform which operates in the increasingly volatile region of the Arctic. Russia is able to outplay other states in this domain. GLONASS, a Russian constellation of satellites, is specifically engineered to outperform GPS and Europe’s Galileo at high latitudes, its orbital inclination of roughly 64.8 degrees, nearly ten degrees steeper than GPS, gives it materially stronger observation geometry above the Arctic Circle.¹³ it is supplemented by additional satellites in high-inclination Molniya orbits. These Molniya orbits are a Cold War-era orbital design which have been optimized precisely for reliable coverage of polar territories.¹⁴ Russia’s armed forces have paired this navigational advantage with sustained, active EW deployment. EW centers operated by Russia’s Northern Fleet are reported to project jamming and spoofing effects across ranges as far as 8,000 kilometers; a blanket over the globe, gone dark.¹⁵

Everyday life for people navigating;-pilots of planes and ships alike, military and trade, commuter ferries, so on and so forth, made lost. The maps which Scandinavian nationals utilize to map their trade routes or military deployments, without a clue to location.¹⁶ GPS has become ubiquitous, so much so that the world relies, perhaps, too much upon it. Nonetheless, such dependence will be terribly consequential should Russia engage in electronic warfare attacks against the satellite systems established over the world. More than anywhere else, however, such a threat is present in the Arctic. As Russia has progressed to capitalize on the Arctic and master navigation within it, it has also created a system which allows it to shut off those same capabilities for the rest of the world. In short, there is only so much space above the 14 million square kilometers of the Arctic to position satellites, which orbit it, without becoming cramped. Should Russia take up the majority of that orbital space, the West is forced to have a permanent blind spot; or else have to negotiate for an eye in the sky. GPS jamming and spoofing have been extensively documented throughout the world, namely the Baltic Sea and Middle East, contemporary theaters of conflict. However, the Arctic is unique in that it holds a GPS vulnerability which has a specific, direct weakness in GNSS geometry, which exists nowhere else on Earth to the same degree. Additionally, it is home to the only nation which has an independent satellite structure which is designed to exploit that very vulnerability.

Given Russia’s strength, the West’s weakness, and the modern race to claim both space and the Arctic, as well as the acceleration of technology including satellites, with limited orbital convergence, there is a clear tension brewing. Three main reasons accelerate this tension and amplify it: firstly, satellite traffic density is highest at the poles; therefore, more sensors, cross-links, and more opportunities for coordination or interference are concentrated in the Arctic.¹⁷ Think of it not as an abyss of cold, thin air above and thick, churning ice below, but instead as a crowded room. Perhaps that makes it easier to make friends; it is a more sociable atmosphere due to proximity and density, or perhaps it leads to increased altercations. Then add in the fact that one nation holds more or less the controls to leave most of the room in darkness, who already hold a distaste and mistrust of that nation for its invasion of Ukraine, and run the numbers again. Clearly, confrontation and therefore its manifestation in EW interference in satellites is inevitable. Secondly, the underlying infrastructure of GPS is weakest, particularly where the traffic is the densest; therefore, there is a combination of both maximum activity and maximum vulnerability which occurs at no other latitudes. Lastly, Russia has both the capability to secure its own navigation systems through GLONASS, while closing it off to others through electronic warfare. This is not just an advantage against the United States, but against all members of NATO who are reliant on the American GPS. The EW will likely not be a physical strike on infrastructure the same way bombing a power grid may be; instead, it is fundamentally digital. The strategic implications of a contest for Arctic operational advantage are not merely in icebreakers, no, but instead in orbital periods and electromagnetic range rings, wherein the assumptions which govern surface-based Arctic security apply weakly, if at all.

War is fought over three main domains: space, time,e and scale. As Russia has enhanced its EW systems to combat GPS in the High North, particularly as a result of the usage of EW in the Russo-Ukrainian War, it gains leverage in these domains. Russia has shifted from centralized strategic jamming systems to tactical, AI-integrated layers which are designed to adapt to shifting communication frequencies, additionally, they are positioned in smaller, local jamming nodes. The Arctic is a smaller, more localized region, despite its incredible scale; the potential for EW in the Arctic, due to its electronic density, is high. Additionally, Russia has incorporated an automated command-and-control (C2) system developed through initiatives such as Svod to automate spectrum surveillance.¹⁸ These innovations, spurred on by the war in Ukraine, bled into the Arctic policy of EW as well. The Murmansk-BN Complex, for example, serves as a strategic mega-jammer which targets high-frequency bands off the Kola Peninsula, not far from the Finnish border. It can range up to 8,000 kilometers, enabling it to disrupt long-range communications systems, as well as the capability to blind NATO warships and aircraft moving through the High North.^{19 20} The Divnomorye Platform acts as a second station of EW near the Kola Peninsula, as it is designed to spoof and suppress airborne radars, radar spy satellites, and drone navigation arrays over thousands of square miles.^{21 22}

Combined with the fact that the US Coast Guard is pursuing specifically these kinds of drone swarms to make up for its lack of icebreakers in the Arctic, the implications are dire.^{23 24 25} Russia is building strength exactly where the United States is weak.

Additionally, with operational centers of EW positioned at entrance points to the Russian Arctic, Murmansk in the west and Kamchatka in the east, Russia creates a clear digital border, which protects its submarine fleet. This submarine fleet is therefore insulated within Russia’s walls of EW capability, disrupting any powers that attempt to strike its second-strike capability nuclear submarines, while expanding influence in the Arctic.²⁶ These centers work as both shields of insulation for defense, and mark an expansion of Russian power in the region; a wall, slowly pushing outward. And it isn’t pushing out alone. As Russia and China expand joint maritime and aerial patrols in the High North, the maneuvers are utilized to calibrate electronic signatures and practice exchanging signals intelligence (SIGINT) and coordinated radar-jamming techniques against NATO detection nets; such are employed in the Greenland, Iceland, United Kingdom and Norway Gap (GIUK-N) to keep surveillance on the Russian Northern Fleet and submarine warfare.^{27 28 29 30} To blanket the world’s Arctic Circle in darkness for NATO and the Western powers, due to a GPS EW wall which serves to scramble US reconnaissance and coordination, is undoubtedly a threat to Western influence in the High North. As the Arctic expands in terms of its strategic value, such a barrier to Western coordination and communication must be overcome to ensure Russia and its ally in China do not overtake the West in unclaimed waters.

Russia utilizes a policy of sword and shield; it creates its own GLONASS web for navigation, while threatening GPS; it creates an EW barrier to the West in the High North, which strategically works against US Coast Guard utilization of robotics and drones in that very region, while continuing to develop and field-test its own unmanned systems and electronic-warfare hardware for reliable operation in sub-zero Arctic conditions.

The black and white of the High North is slowly going dark, as Western vision and navigation go blind, due to Russia’s power not merely in the region, but specifically in the space above it. In the thinnest stretches of air, Russia’s influence over EW, GPS, and communication between NATO nations becomes most volatile. The action that must be taken, therefore, is GNSS-independent position, navigation, and timing. Navigation and positioning provide the space aspect of warfare, which takes place not only in the Arctic, but above it. The timing of signal-authentication technologies deserves the same sustained investment priority that Arctic defense planning has seen in icebreaker recapitalization given the structural weakness and corresponding density of GPS satellites in the Arctic. The chokepoint of space in the Arctic is unique and critical as it is narrow; nonetheless, it is the eyes of the Western world. The time which ticks by constantly for both the hardware and software only accelerates as Russia develops Arctic space systems such as its EW wall. Time is a valuable asset or costly liability in competition, as a dimension of war, particularly in the Arctic, where the melting of ice and rising temperatures only increase the risk of lethargy. A response then should be allied GNSS diversification, leveraging what already exists in Galileo, while pursuing authentication and anti-spoofing upgrades, as an Arctic-specific requirement, not a general resilience measure.^{31 32} GPS is demonstrably the weakest performing major constellation at the latitudes in and around the Arctic Circle.³³ Following the mold set by Polar Scout, low-cost CubeSat and smaller constellations offer a comparatively affordable path to increased allied space-domain awareness density in the Arctic, with expanded investment based on merit given how favorably orbital geometry already concentrates coverage at the poles.^{34 35 36} Furthermore, because Northern Fleet EW effects are able to reach up to 8,000 kilometers, allied Arctic exercise, planning, and civil aviation as well as maritime strategy and safety coordination should assume GNSS interference as a planning baseline, rather than an anomalous event.³⁷ When the opponent directly displays EW technology, that is not the time to turn a blind eye and assume it will not be used. It is exactly that thinking which leads to the blinding of Western military power, such as NATO, if and when EW is used to blind GPS systems to the Western world. It is then, while half the world sits in darkness, that Russia is able to strike disoriented, uncoordinated, and isolated units in the Arctic, risking immediate disaster.

Icebreakers and patrol vessels remain visible, countable, and politically legible measures of Arctic capability, which is precisely why they dominate public and legislative debate. But orbital mechanics ensures that an entirely different, largely invisible contest is unfolding directly above the same ice: a convergence of satellite traffic that is structurally denser at the poles than anywhere else on Earth, layered onto a GPS positioning system that is structurally weaker at the poles than anywhere else on Earth, exploited by an adversary whose own satellite architecture and electronic-warfare posture are specifically built for exactly that environment. A complete accounting of Arctic strategic competition has to include this orbital layer, not as a footnote to the icebreaker debate, but as a parallel contest operating on its own clock, largely indifferent to how fast, or how many, ships any nation can put through the ice.

The black and white of the Arctic and space are desolate, brutal regions of combat. Nonetheless, the tension remains, and such contrast and difficulty does not excuse a lack of Western initiative to combat EW where it matters most.

The key to remaining in power is not by ignoring chokepoints, but by fortifying them, one by one, until they are chokepoints no longer, but points in a constellation of empire, not leveraged or threatened by other nations. Relieve the pressure on a chokepoint, relieve its critical nature, and you relieve the risk; a chokepoint is valuable only because it is vulnerable. The systematic fortification of chokepoints, then, is critical to any nation’s national security. Nonetheless, the Arctic as a chokepoint is complex and holds further chokepoints within it, and some are only now thawing out of the ice.

Notes & References

References

Notes