The Arctic at risk: Here’s everything you need to know

The Arctic National Wildlife Refuge isn’t just another protected area on a map, it’s one of the few places left that still feels truly wild. Spread across nearly 20 million acres (about 81,000 square kilometers) in Alaska’s far north, it’s the largest and most untouched piece of publicly owned land in the United States. The landscape is a mix of tundra, rivers, mountains, and open coastal plains that have remained almost unchanged for thousands of years.

The wildlife here depends on that stability. Polar bears den along the coast. Wolves and grizzly bears move across the tundra in search of food. Offshore, whales and seals travel through the icy waters. Every summer, millions of birds from around the world migrate to the refuge to breed and feed, making it one of the most important bird nurseries on Earth.

The most critical part of the refuge is the coastal plain. This is where the 197,000-member Porcupine Caribou Herd returns each year to give birth. The plains provide the safety, space, and food the newborn calves need to survive.

For the Gwich’in people, this area is deeply meaningful. They call it “the Sacred Place Where Life Begins.”

Many scientists describe the Refuge as a living laboratory, a place still shaped by natural forces rather than human development. But that description doesn’t fully capture what it represents.

This ecosystem is one of the last intact Arctic habitats on the planet, and its health is connected far beyond Alaska.

It’s not just a protected area it’s a vital life-support system, and once it’s disrupted, there’s no replacing it. We’ve told you the news, but we want you to truly understand what it means.

How the refuge was created and protected

This landscape didn’t end up protected by chance. It took decades of work from conservationists who knew what was at stake. In 1960, President Dwight Eisenhower, pushed by ecologists like Olaus and Mardy Murie, set aside 8.9 million acres as the “Arctic National Wildlife Range,” recognizing its unique wildlife and wilderness value.

Twenty years later, President Jimmy Carter signed the Alaska Lands Act, expanding the area, renaming it the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, and giving more than 8 million acres full wilderness protection (what’s now the Mollie Beattie Wilderness).

But the most important part, the 1.5-million-acre coastal plain, was left in a special category. It wasn’t opened to drilling, but it wasn’t permanently protected either. Congress was supposed to study it first and decide later.

The idea was simple: if drilling were ever to happen there, Congress would have to explicitly approve it. And for decades, that safeguard held. Conservation groups, scientists, and Indigenous communities pushed back every time politicians tried to open the coastal plain to oil development.

Congress debated it nearly fifty times, and every attempt failed.

The coastal plain stayed off-limits… until it didn’t.

Wild wonders of the Arctic

The Refuge’s interior and coastal areas are alive with wildlife. Its alpine foothills and river valleys host boreal forests and tundra where moose, muskoxen, Dall sheep, wolverines, lynx, foxes, and more find food and shelter. In winter, female polar bears dig maternity dens in the snowy coastal plain to give birth, while in summer, retreating ice allows brown bears to roam the beaches.

By May, the muskeg ponds and rivers are packed with life. “Every pond or puddle is covered in ducks and geese,” reports biologist Natalie Boelman, and the skies are filled with countless shorebirds. Threatened species like Steller’s eiders and Ross’s geese also breed here, making the coastal plain one of the most important bird nurseries on Earth.

More than 700 species of plants and animals rely on the refuge, from tiny Arctic poppies to towering spruce. Wolves hunt across the tundra and cliffs, while whales — gray, beluga, and bowhead — migrate past the coast.

In autumn, salmon run up the rivers, feeding grizzlies, eagles, and other wildlife. Scientists call ANWR a complete, intact Arctic ecosystem. Its abundance has led Alaska’s senior US senator to describe it as a “literal breadbasket” for the millions of waterfowl that depend on it each summer.

Both scientists and local residents see it as a living blueprint for how nature sustains itself, a functioning Arctic world that has remained intact for millennia.