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SVALBARD

Norway’s Svalbard cleans up act as last coal power plant closes

Coal brought fortune to Norway's Svalbard archipelago, but that bonanza became a curse for the remote group of islands due to climate concerns. Now, Svalbard is trying to clean up its act.

Pictured is a rusty rail cart in Oslo.
Most traces of the human settlement in the area have been removed following a decision by the Norwegian government to turn it into a natural reserve. The restauration, which covers a zone the size of the city of Oslo, is the largest project of that kind ever conducted by the Nordic country (Photo by Viken KANTARCI / AFP)

At the old Svea mine in the Arctic, broken railway tracks overgrown with weeds lead nowhere. Of the hundred buildings that once made up the town, there’s almost nothing left.

Coal brought fortune to Norway’s Svalbard archipelago, but that bonanza became a curse for the remote group of islands, now the most harmful fossil energy for the climate.

Svalbard, today home to 3,000 people and located in the fastest-warming region on the planet, is bit by bit erasing all traces of its mining past.

A 40-minute helicopter flight from the main town of Longyearbyen, the Svea mine and its surrounding settlement have been returned to Mother Nature after a massive, recently-completed restoration project.

“At its peak there were barracks for 300 people, with a canteen, an airfield with 35,000 passengers yearly, a power plant, a workshop, and storage,” said Morten Hagen Johansen, in charge of the project at the mine where he was once employed.

The Svea site is the biggest natural restoration ever undertaken in Norway. Only a handful of man-made objects remain, preserved because they are considered historic.

They include a few dilapidated brick buildings, a rusted track vehicle, and railway tracks that once transported wagons loaded with coal.

The area “was home to many miners who were working here for decades,” Hanna Geiran, head of the Norwegian Directorate for Cultural Heritage, told AFP.

“Preserving these artefacts helps to better understand what this place was,” she added.

– Avalanches –

The mine was opened by a Swedish company in 1917 and officially closed 100 years later after producing 34 million tonnes of coal.

The site has since been returned to its natural state at a cost of around 1.6 billion kroner (about $140 million) to the Norwegian state.

“The concept is to try to let nature take it back,” said Hagen Johansen. “That means to let creeks run freely. To make sure that avalanches do
happen, because that will transport more sediment down and it will make new creeks.”

The part of the Barents Sea where the Svalbard archipelago is located is warming up to seven times faster than the rest of the planet, according to a study published in last year.

At Svea, a spectacular landslide recently created a deep crevasse down  hilly slope.

“It is the result of a very heavy rainfall last summer where they got maybe 50-60 millimetres (2-2.3 inches) of rain in just 24 hours,” geologist Fredrik
Juell Theisen said.

“That was very unusual before climate change started changing the climate up here,” he added.

– Russian presence –

The climate backlash is for the archipelago now trying to rid itself of fossil fuels.

Seven other mines located in the hills of Longyearbyen have almost all been closed, with the last one due to shut in 2025.

The town also disconnected its coal plant for good this month in exchange for a less-polluting diesel plant, ahead of a transition to renewable energies at a later stage.

Going forward, Svalbard’s economy will rely on tourism and scientific research.

The only coal still being mined on the archipelago will be a vein in Barentsburg, a Russian mining community with just under 500 Russians and Ukrainians, most of them from the Donbas region.

Under the 1920 international treaty that recognises Norway’s sovereignty over Svalbard, all signatories are entitled to exploit the region’s natural
resources equally.

As a result, Russia has for decades maintained a mining community om Svalbard, via the state-run company Trust Arktikugol, in a strategic region
belonging to a NATO member.

According to some observers and Russia itself, strict environmental regulations that Norway has introduced in the region — about two-thirds of Svalbard land is protected in one way or another — are at least partly aimed at limiting Russia.

It’s impossible to know whether such considerations played into Oslo’s decision to restore the Svea mine at great cost, said Mats Kirkebirkeland of Norwegian think tank Civita.

“But there’s no denying that some of the Norwegian environmental policies and the geostrategic policies on Svalbard are aligned.”

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BUSINESS

Dying salmon worry Norway’s giant fish-farm industry

They are hailed for their omega-3 fatty acids and micronutrients, but Norway's salmon are not in the best of health themselves at the fish farms where they are bred.

Dying salmon worry Norway's giant fish-farm industry

Almost 63 million salmon — a record — died prematurely last year in the large underwater sea pens that dot the fjords of Norway, the world’s biggest producer of Atlantic salmon.

That represents a mortality rate of 16.7 percent, also a record high and a number that has gradually risen over the years — posing an economic and an ethical problem to producers.

The salmon succumb to illnesses of the pancreas, gills or heart, or to injuries suffered during the removal of sea lice parasites.

“The death of animals is a waste of life and resources,” Edgar Brun, director of Aquatic Animal Health and Welfare at the Norwegian Veterinary Institute, told AFP. “We also have a moral and ethical responsibility to guarantee them the best possible conditions.”

Norway’s salmon exports exceeded $11 billion last year, with the 1.2 million tonnes sold representing the equivalent of 16 million meals per day.

The 63 million prematurely dead salmon represent almost $2 billion in lost income for the industry.

Not so appetising

Salmon that die prematurely are usually turned into animal feed or biofuel.

But according to Norwegian media, some fish that are in dire health at the time of slaughter, or even already dead, do sometimes end up on dinner plates, occasionally even sent off with a label marked “superior”.

“I see fish on sale that I myself would not eat,” a former head of quality control at a salmon slaughterhouse, Laila Sele Navikauskas, told public broadcaster NRK in November.

Eating those salmon poses no danger to human health, experts say.

“The pathogens that cause these illnesses in the salmon cannot be passed on to humans,” Brun explained.

But the revelations damage the salmon’s precious image.

“If you buy meat in a store, you expect it to come from an animal that was slaughtered in line with regulations and not one that was lying dead outside the barn,” said Trygve Poppe, a specialist in fish health. “Otherwise, as a consumer you feel tricked.”

The Norwegian Food Safety Authority said it observed anomalies at half of the fish farms inspected last year, noting that, among other things, injured or deformed fish had been exported in violation of Norwegian regulations.

In order to maintain its strong reputation, only salmon of ordinary or superior quality is authorised for export.

The lower quality fish — which accounts for a growing share of stocks, up to a third last winter — can only be sold abroad after it has been transformed, into fillets for example.

Matter of trust

Robert Eriksson, head of the Norwegian Seafood Association which represents small producers — generally considered less at fault — said the irregularities reported at some breeders were “totally unacceptable”.

“We live off of trust,” he said.

Taking shortcuts means “you get punished by the market and the economic impact is much bigger than the few extra kilos you sold.”

The Norwegian Seafood Federation — representing the biggest fish farming companies, those most often singled out over quality — insists it is addressing the matter but says more time is needed.

“On average, it takes three years to breed a salmon,” said the body’s director, Geir Ove Ystmark.

“So it’s very difficult to see immediate results today, even though we have launched a series of initiatives and measures.”

It is precisely the speed at which the fish are bred that is the problem, according to fish health specialist Poppe, who criticised the “terribly bad animal conditions” and who has stopped eating farmed salmon.

“The salmon are subjected to stress their entire lives, from the time they hatch in fresh water until their slaughter,” said Poppe.

“For example, during the first phase in fresh water, the light and temperature is manipulated so they’ll grow as quickly as possible,” he explained.

“In the wild, this phase takes two to six years. When they’re bred, it takes six months to a year.”

New technology

Truls Gulowsen, head of Friends of the Earth Norway, said recent years’ higher mortality rates were the result of aggressive industrialisation.

“We have bred a farmed fish that has poor chances of survival and which is dying from a combination of stress and bad genes because it’s been bred to grow as fast as possible and subjected to a major change in diet.”

The Norwegian Seafood Association aims to halve the mortality rate by 2030, and industry giant Salmar has allocated $45 million to tackle the issue.

Among the frequently mentioned possibilities are greater spacing between fish farms, and new technology, including so-called closed facilities.

The latter, where sea water is filtered, would help prevent sea lice but are more costly.

The government insists it is up to fish farms to respect the rules.

“Not all producers have the same mortality rates, so it is possible to reduce them,” said Even Tronstad Sagebakken, a state secretary at the fisheries ministry.

In the meantime, the Norwegian Food Safety Authority says it has not yet received any reports of salmon not fit for export being sold abroad.

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