The Russian Arctic continues to expand, like a bear stretching its paws from the north to the south. In March 2024, its territory grew further with new additions from the Khanty-Mansi Autonomous Okrug. Now, the Russian Arctic Zone (RAZ) resembles a giant puzzle, pieced together from regions with disparate economic and demographic features. Like the Russian proverb of the ‘seven nannies’—where the child under the supervision of seven nannies is missing an eye—there are too many systems of authority here, all trying to pull the Arctic in different directions. One region, Chukotka, remains in a perpetually frozen and windy state, while another, the Murmansk Oblast, endeavors toward modernization and development under the glow of the northern lights.

However, differences aside, these jurisdictions share a common feature and, as a result, a common problem: their governance system is fragmented. This, even though the stated goals of the Russian Federation are clear: the exploitation of natural resources and the establishment of Russian dominance in the Arctic. As it turns out, no one is actually addressing these objectives in practice. Government programs, such as the Arctic mortgage initiative, resemble a shiny new toy house that no one wants to play with. Such programs are announced, but then nobody takes interest, because in practice they don’t deliver what they promise. This is how the Russian Arctic operates—across the vast chasm between slogans and reality.

But the Arctic’s patchwork composition is not its only problem. Its regulatory system resembles an endless matryoshka doll: one figure hidden inside another, each with its own role and interests. To be sure, the economic dominance of Rosatom has long assumed control over the Northern Sea Route (NSR), transforming it into a key artery for cargo transportation. However, political power in the Arctic is a different matter; until recently, control over the region was marked by dualism. On one side, Yury Trutnev, Chairman of the State Commission for Arctic Development, focused on the Far East, only occasionally glancing at the Arctic. Indeed, the priorities of the Ministry for the Development of the Far East and the Arctic have always been centered on the East: the fact that the ministry's office is located in Vladivostok, thousands of kilometers from Murmansk—considered the capital of the Arctic—speaks volumes about its focus.

On the other side, Dmitry Medvedev, Deputy Chair of the Security Council, has been involved in Arctic policy from a national security perspective. Until August 2024, he oversaw the commission within the Security Council for protecting national interests in the Arctic, but made little impact. However, as often happens in Russia, when a weak supervisor is present, a replacement soon follows. Economic control over the Arctic has long fallen under Rosatom, but the political situation is shifting. The main reason is the growing militarization of the region. The Arctic, long considered a wild, almost mythical land of ice and polar bears, is beginning to play a new role under the leadership of Nikolai Patrushev, a man with a cold grip, accustomed to seeking out and eliminating "enemies of the people."

Patrushev, who was appointed Presidential Aide for Shipbuilding in May 2024, might appear to have been demoted. However, for a man accustomed to holding many invisible threads of power, this is merely a disguise. Supported by his sons—Deputy Prime Minister Dmitry Patrushev and former Gazprom Oil executive Andrey Patrushev—Nikolai Platonovich doesn't need high-profile positions to maintain control and leverage his connections with the security apparatus.

Andrey Patrushev, quiet and unassuming, like a shadow behind his father, is already involved in Arctic shelf drilling and holds a stake in the Arkhangelsk port. Dmitry Patrushev, on the other hand, as Deputy Prime Minister, oversees issues on behalf of the Russian government related to natural resources, the fishing industry, and Arctic ecology. This family triumvirate, like three icebreakers, is slowly but surely carving out a path of control in the region for themselves and their allies. Dmitry oversees key agencies like Rosnedra (Russia's subsoil resource agency), Rosvodresursy (water resources), Rosleskhoz (forestry), and Rosprirodnadzor (environmental supervision), while Nikolai Platonovich chairs the Maritime Collegium, which includes the Council for the Protection of National Interests in the Arctic, securing military and political control over the region.

The dissolution of certain commissions, the restructuring of the Maritime Collegium, and the removal of Dmitry Medvedev and Denis Manturov from Arctic oversight within the Security Council and the government respectively, are steps that point toward one clear message: the Arctic is now exclusively under the control of the Patrushevs. And they, in turn, have direct access to Putin. Within the Presidential Administration, Nikolai Patrushev oversees national maritime policy, managed by his former deputy at the Security Council, Sergey Vakhrukov, who heads another bureaucratic dynasty—his sons work in the Ministry of Economic Development and the Yaroslavl Regional Duma.

The restructuring of the Maritime Collegium in August 2024, now led by Presidential Aide for Shipbuilding Nikolai Patrushev, has evident priorities. The collegium is positioned to become a hub for security forces aligned with Patrushev, as one of its key tasks is the protection of national interests in the Arctic. On September 19, the first meeting of the corresponding council took place, and according to media reports, this council will oversee almost all infrastructural and transportation projects: the Northern Sea Route (NSR), the icebreaker fleet, inland waterways, and land connections. Patrushev, with his iron grip, seems intent on making the region even more closed-off and guarded.

In Russia's Maritime Doctrine, last updated in 2022, the Arctic is described as a "region of global competition not only economically but militarily." Clearly, Patrushev's appointment is not just a reactive measure in response to changing political circumstances, but an attestation to shifting state priorities—among them an intentional acceleration of Arctic militarization and securitization, which raises the stakes in the new "Great Game" of geopolitical control over the Arctic, and the so-called "Cold Fever" rush for logistical assets there. Such a focus on military power and control over key resources is difficult to underestimate. Arguably, without control of the security apparatus and establishing itself in a position of corporate domination, Russia cannot sustain its presence in the region.

For their part, civil society institutions are almost non-existent in the Arctic. Extractivist corporations treat the indigenous populations as a means to achieve their goals, while environmental issues remain neglected in the face of international isolation. Under Patrushev’s leadership, the Arctic is likely to become an area of strict control, with even fewer opportunities for civic dialogue and transparency. Climate change, environmental concerns, and indigenous rights are of little interest to the presidential aide—as is evident from the priorities he is not shy to voice.

In a way that recalls the old Soviet joke—"No matter what parts you take from the factory, when you assemble them at home, it always turns into a machine gun"—anything Nikolai Platonovich is appointed to oversee somehow turns into the KGB—whether it's the Security Council, the Maritime Collegium, or Russian shipbuilding. With the emergence of each new security organ, Russia’s prospects in the Arctic become all the more dark—as does its new overseer.