Not one inch: keeping Russia at bay

Sten Rynning and Anne Ingemann Johansen look at the day-to-day work being done in Norway as a frontline state to counter the threat posed by Russia and how this contributes to European security.

What a difference a few decades make. In 1990, “not one inch” reflected an idea, most famously tried by Secretary of State James Baker to soothe Soviet sensibilities, that European stability depended on Western restraint. Today, the tables have turned: stability will follow to the extent Western countries can impose restraint on Russia.

The geopolitical enormity of the shift is obvious. Less obvious is the burden this has placed on frontline governments busy fighting a shadow war with Russia. We recently concluded a three-year research project on Norwegian and Danish NATO policy with a research visit to Norway’s Finnmark. It confirmed what we had learned from many conversations in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Oslo: that concerted action between Norway and allies is key, that it increasingly happens to warn off Russia, but that the bread and butter of “not one inch” rests on comprehensive and agile strategic thinking at home. And this is by no means easy. Four conclusions stood out.

First, the effort to counter Russia must rest on a solid military foundation that once was allowed to wither but which now in haste must be reconstituted. Thus, Norway is standing up a Finnmark Brigade located to the rear, in Porsangmoen near Lakselv, with a forward-deployed battalion at the border. This brigade is placed to block Russian incursions into the national territory and, more importantly perhaps, to counter a Russian land offensive through the more geographically permissible Finnish and Swedish Finnmark.

The new brigade is a type of frontend bulwark backed by Norway’s main land force, the Northern Brigade, headquartered further south. It is likewise backed by intense cooperation with US and UK forces. When we visited, the brigade was about to inaugurate its artillery battalion equipped with self-propelled Howitzers, alongside new air defence and signal units. To speak softly, the Norwegians have realised, they must carry a big stick.

Second, from this foundation, Norway engages a broad set of policies to prevent societal discontent and thus societal divisions that Russia will exploit. This is not straightforward, as Norway’s Sami (indigenous) population has historically had a strained relationship with the central government. Norwegian Sami have a type of parliament in Karasjok, which articulates Sami interests and distributes funds. However, decades of assimilation policy run out of Oslo have taken a toll: the Norwegian parliament issued a formal apology in 2024 in the wake of a painful truth and reconciliation commission report. Thus, even if current relations are manageable, history remains alive.

The main cleavages in the region now seem to turn on wind power (many Sami are opposed to it, believing it infringes on their territorial rights and pastures) and electricity. The region simply does not have enough grid and transmission capacity, making electricity a sore point of distributive politics. When the government decided in 2023 to privilege transmission to a large LNG (liquid natural gas) plant on Melkøya, next to Hammerfest, it was being environmentally astute (the plant emits large amounts of greenhouse gas) but regionally reckless (local governments strongly objected to being sidelined). The governing Labour party suffered in ensuing local elections and since fast-tracked legislation to accelerate the regional expansion of the grid. At this point, arguments over regional energy policy seem contained, but the potential for disruptive regional and identity politics remains significant.

Third, Russian minorities reside in Norway, mostly in and around Kirkenes, right next to the only functioning border post, Storskog. There are about 400 Russians in Kirkenes, a city of 3,400 people, with 1-200 additional Russians in the wider area. The authorities do not seem unduly worried by their presence, perhaps because the authorities feel well informed of where local loyalties lie.

History is the battle space, though. Norway and Russia have never been at war with each other, and Russia (the Soviet Union) liberated Northern Norway from Germany in 1945—and then retreated to Soviet territory. But there is a rub: there are memorials dedicated to these events, and today, their significance is disputed. The “liberation memorial”—aka, Russian memorial—in central Kirkenes is a case in point. Supposedly depicting a Soviet solider liberating Norway, it is today portrayed variously as an occupier or, tongue in cheek, a Ukrainian fighting for freedom.

Fourth, Russian diplomats continue to enter Kirkenes and to operate freely in the region. Norway has not closed Russia’s consulate in the city, granting diplomats an opportunity to go about their business (it is centrally located and contains residential facilities for a group of diplomats). Since they have very little to do in terms of issuing visas, they are more likely mapping the human terrain and, among other things, stoking local Russian concern with memorial politics.

Understanding and tracking Russian authorities—inside Norway or along the border—thus remains an acute task. From their watch towers, Norwegian troops can observe training and firing ranges where Russia prepares newly recruited units for war in Ukraine. In the air, they observe Russia’s sometimes erratic behavior in terms of GPS jamming. Some of this behavior is driven by fear, the Norwegian authorities believe: fear that Ukraine will manage to sneak drones past Russian defenses and strike at their strategic (nuclear) forces on the Kola peninsula (the Russian nuclear submarine base, Zapadnaja Litsa, is a mere 45 km from the border).

Much Western attention has recently been devoted to the haze of US strategic thinking and Trump’s anger with NATO. Much less to the day-to-day hard work being done in Norway and other frontline states to keep Russia at bay. This is a pity. These states are living an experiment in rethinking societal security and in retooling government for an environment of competitive geopolitics. It is from their hard work that Europe—Norway and its partners—can reach agreement on where Russia’s political mindset lies between the outer bounds of paranoiac and aggressive. If they can agree on this, they can determine what to do about it and, in time, hope to wrestle a degree of geopolitical control from its capricious flanks.

By Sten Rynning, Professor, University of Southern Denmark and Anne Ingemann Johansen, Assistant Professor, University of Southern Denmark.