Friðrik Thorsson’s Discussion Reflection
Youth as the Future’s Foremost Stakeholders
 
We have the pleasure and honour of publishing a reflection on the discussion delivered at the Arctic Frontiers conference. The conference was held in February 2026 in Tromsø, Norway. The discussion was part of the panel session organised by the CAP-SHARE project, entitled ‘Intergenerational Capacity Sharing: The Connection Between Nature and Youth’.
 
The text was originally written in English.

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Discussion Reflection:
Youth as the Future’s Foremost Stakeholders
Friðrik Thorsson
Project Manager & Deputy Director, IACN – Icelandic Arctic Cooperation Network
 
Why I admire this project.
My attendance at the 2026 Arctic Frontiers conference in Tromsø was marked by the wonderful opportunity granted to me by the CAP-SHARE project team to discuss a matter that is dear to me: ensuring that stakeholder perspectives and values are heard, understood and acted upon by those empowered to make final decisions.

Of course, this is something most people agree is important, at least in principle. However, it is when one looks at the practicalities that things tend to appear amiss. Like in a whispering game, a compounding process runs the risk of losing parts of the bigger picture with each step. Things are lost in translation, overlooked, affected by practical constraints, or are misunderstood or misinterpreted. Resolving this requires taking into account structural aspects relating to the development of effective communities of practice centred on the practical use of frameworks and tools that streamline and empower the knowledge-policy interface – from stakeholders and local communities to scientists, experts and policymakers.

This is where my appreciation for the work that CAP-SHARE does comes into play, as I find that their efforts to empower this process to be crucial for the sort of effective Arctic governance that is so necessary in these rapidly evolving times.

Why this matters to me.
To put into context why this matters to me personally, I will begin by telling you a little bit about myself. I had the privilege of growing up on a rural farm in the valleys of West Iceland. With this privilege came opportunities to surround myself with nature, tend to animals, swim in the river and catch charr. Having no other frame of reference, I took this all for granted. It didn’t come with any awareness – it was just life. Normal stuff.

The moment of realization came when a landmark glacier visible from my valley was declared dead back in 2014; the first to go extinct in Iceland since settlement. The depth of one’s relationship to something rarely ever becomes as apparent as when it has been lost. I realized, in retrospect, that these phenomena which we take for granted as part of normal, daily life are indeed exactly that. My normal – both a fundamental aspect of my identity and the vector through which I perceived reality – suddenly proved to be mortal.

It took a reality check for me to finally realize the fragility of my natural environment – something well understood by the many Arctic, and particularly Indigenous, communities who are even more closely connected and reliant upon it than I ever was. I do not intend to lose yet another piece of it without putting up a fight. I recognize that I have a say in terms of how the ship is steered. But being heard is another thing entirely.

The part I try to play.
Today, I work as project manager for the Icelandic Arctic Cooperation Network, an organization based in Akureyri, which serves as Iceland’s hub for Arctic governance and knowledge production. Our close involvement in this process has afforded us the opportunity to observe how the interface operates: what works, what doesn’t, and what often isn’t even considered. I was therefore happy to provide some insight on the first question posed to me in the panel in particular:

What experiences have you had collaborating with researchers, policymakers or authorities? What has worked well, and what needs to change?

I was thankful to receive such a good question. After all, effective capacity-sharing includes learning where processes fail and redesigning them.

In regard to what needs to change, one of the most glaring pitfalls in this process is a far too frequent misalignment between national policies and goals and regional realities. This fragmentation is especially evident in the Arctic and in rural areas. Accordingly, there is a need for a clearer, cross-cutting vision that encompasses all policies. Human realities cannot be reduced to singular concerns and solutions, so there needs to be increased efforts aimed at the mutual alignment of youth, gender, environmental and climate policies, to name but a few.

We note that such alignment, especially for cross-border attempts at governance on a human scale, requires data that is compatible across regions. Moreover, this data needs to be appropriately disaggregated to statistically represent how different strata intersect not only with one another, but also with the environment, in the case of climate change mitigation policy.

Lastly, but perhaps most fundamentally, there needs to be greater awareness of the inherent value of true stakeholder engagement. Capacity-sharing is not simply a transfer of skills from ‘experts’ to a subject group. Every stakeholder – or ‘youth’, as is the case in this project – is an expert on their own lived realities. Therefore, stakeholder engagement must occur right from the very beginning of the policy process. Proper engagement, involvement and tools such as Free, Prior, and Informed Consent (FPIC) are not mere box-ticking exercises – they are guarantees of efficiency and risk-mitigating factors.

Alongside this acknowledgement comes the need to address the frequent incompatibility between research funding windows and the time required to establish trust and good faith. Resources must also be allocated to provide adequate support and ensure that rights holders, knowledge holders and stakeholders are duly compensated for their participation. This is no pipe dream; it is practically feasible and proven to work.

In your work at the IACN, how has what you mentioned earlier regarding youth participation been put into practice?

A good example of our attempt to actualize the sort of engagement I mentioned – both in terms of what worked and what we learned from it – is our work on the Pan-Arctic Report on Gender Equality in the Arctic. It serves as a good example of what one may expect from the knowledge-policy interface, due to its policy impact. Since its publication through the Arctic Council’s Sustainable Development Working Group, it has been reflected in subsequent Arctic strategies of Iceland and the Arctic Council, as per the Reykjavík Declaration of 2021.

However, as a case study in process design, it made very genuine efforts to ensure extensive youth engagement. Rather than simple ‘comments at the end’, the report embedded a Youth Advisory Group throughout the process, with talent drawn specifically from the Arctic Youth Network. This included theme selection, chapter review, feedback sessions and representation on the Editorial Committee.

This engagement was a real no-brainer from a research perspective. As a demographic group, youth are crucial to understanding ongoing social processes, regardless of the subject. Even if we were to limit ‘youth’ to the ages of 15-29, this group would still comprise a quarter of the Arctic’s total population. Also, not only is it the strongest predictive group for long-term demographic, mobility and labour trends, but it is also the section of the population in which Indigeneity, gender, geography and opportunity structures intersect in by far the most visible way. And who knows more about such things than those currently experiencing them?

This focus is especially relevant considering the glacial pace at which policy can react to reality. Ten years of engagement, research, deliberation and, finally, policy implementation can feel like the blink of an eye. But to a person just finishing school, such a span of time can easily determine the rest of their life.

The importance of centring policy around youth when it comes to long-term sustainability makes the inherent value of their engagement so readily obvious. As mentioned previously, this value must be reflected in the allocation of resources and direct compensation to the stakeholders with whom one needs to collaborate.

Isabel Louise Cadec’s Discussion Reflection
Shaping Trails and Futures

We have the pleasure and honour of publishing a reflection on the discussion delivered at the Arctic Frontiers conference. The conference was held in February 2026 in Tromsø, Norway. The discussion was part of the panel session organised by the CAP-SHARE project, entitled Intergenerational Capacity Sharing: The Connection Between Nature and Youth.

The text was originally written in English.


Discussion Reflection:
Shaping Trails and Futures
Isabel Louise Cadec
Project Coordinator, The Þórsmörk Trail Volunteers, Land and Forest Iceland
 
It was a privilege to not only attend the Arctic Frontiers conference earlier this year, but to be invited by the CAP-SHARE project to participate as a panellist representing Iceland in a discussion about capacity sharing and biodiversity on 6 February 2026. Although I am not from Iceland myself, I have spent the last six years immersed in the Icelandic Highlands, leading groups of international volunteers in landscape restoration and hiking trail construction through sustainable approaches. This is with a project called The Þórsmörk Trail Volunteers, which is coordinated by Land og Skógur. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to discuss my experiences as a trail builder who works alongside groups of young people from across the world, including Taiwan, Canada, Finland, and Norway, to name but a few countries.

I thrive and feel most at home in the birch forest of Þórsmörk and Goðaland, a nature reserve in South Iceland, where I continually have soil-covered hands, grass-stained trousers, muddy boots, and windswept hair. I welcome the disconnection and stillness of the Icelandic Highlands. Smart business wear and public speaking are certainly out of my comfort zone, and I would be lying if I said I was not nervous in the minutes leading up to the panel discussion. However, I am enthusiastic and passionate about building trails, restoring Þórsmörk and Goðaland, and teaching our young volunteers about these strategies in a changing environment. Thus, despite the nerves, there was an undercurrent of excitement to be able to discuss a topic I deeply care about.

Early in the discussion, the panel was asked:  
How do you relate to land and water - such as rivers, lakes, coasts, tundra, forests, or fells - and how do these relationships shape your identity and sense of the future?

As I listened to my fellow panellists, I was moved by the different stories and experiences they shared about land and place. When it was my turn to speak, I realised that the question was not asking for a single kind of connection, but opening space for different relationships, histories, and experiences to be expressed.

Our volunteer camp in Þórsmörk is basic. This has always been the intention. We are now going into our 15th year of this project, but at the very beginning there was nothing but a dusty scrap of land where our camp is situated. Over the years, our camp has been slowly built with low impact, sustainability and the landscape in mind. Our camp features turf roofs which now have small birch trees growing on them, and our huts are constructed with Icelandic grown timber. A colleague even referred to our camp as a hobbit village.

In the panel discussion, I explained how a significant part of this development has been about nurturing the forest in and round our camp. We have taken a lot of care to plant, relocate and nurture the native birch and willow.  With this, the nature and wildlife are much closer to our door. Addressing the audience, I tried to paint the image that shows how we have fostered and created a camp that is part of the landscape and forest.

My relationship to this land, which has shaped my identity, has not come from being born into an Arctic country like my fellow panellists. I grew up on the sunny, populated south coast of England. Instead, my connection and relation to the land have developed over time, mediated through our basic camp lifestyle and passing on knowledge, inspiration, and passion, whilst creating a space for learning and escapism from our busy lives. I call this “the Þórsmörk bubble”. It has become a place to temporarily escape whatever concerns, worries, or stresses our volunteers have, through reconnecting with the land and nature.  This is what I would like to continue in the future – not just a trail maintenance programme, but rather a place nestled in the Icelandic forests, rivers and mountains where people can come for a short while to disconnect, learn something new, reconnect with nature, and contribute something good to the landscape.

I was then directly asked:
How do you experience young people’s opportunities to influence biodiversity protection and environmental decision making in your community? What barriers exist?
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For this, I had prepared some photographs to help illustrate a very small part of what our volunteers are involved with when they join our project. In Iceland, the term ‘youth’ encompasses people aged six to 25. Most of our volunteers are aged 20–25. 

We are an entry level programme, a stepping stone for young people in their early career development. An opportunity for them to learn about biodiversity protection and restoration in a different capacity. However, what exactly does biodiversity protection look like in relation to trail management, and how are these two elements linked? Trails are an essential infrastructure for our access into these nature destinations, to national parks, to protected areas, to semi-wilderness places. Yet, a poorly maintained trail is bad news for the plant biodiversity surrounding that trail.

Many areas of Þórsmörk feature fragile moss communities and slow growing flora. Biodiversity in Iceland is characterised by wide interspecies diversity. When answering this question, I explained how the moss species in Iceland are extremely vulnerable and take a long time to recover if trampled by hikers. This then exposes the soil beneath, which leads to continual soil erosion if this cycle of off-trail trampling is not fixed. It creates an ugly scar in the landscape.

This is where trail maintenance comes in. Well-maintained trails protect our vegetation biodiversity, because people walk on the trails and not on the moss.  The slide I presented in the panel discussion shows what happens when the trails do not receive the continual support and maintenance required (photo 1). Photo 2 shows The Þórsmörk Trail Volunteers efforts in restoring this same section of trail. It gives the plants the opportunity to grow again.

I would also briefly like to point out the importance of community engagement in our trail maintenance strategy. This is illustrated in photos 6 and 7, a before and after look from 2025. At first glance, it is just another trail. However, the story behind it is grounded in a regenerative tourism approach based on community, stakeholder, and user engagement in our trail network development for both tourism and local use. Hiking guides who operate in the area worked with us to restore this section of trail, while we simultaneously cooperated with the local mountain biking community to develop an alternative route for keen bikers in the area.

In answer to this question, I hope it clarified for the audience that trail maintenance and its impacts go beyond just a one-metre path. Restoration and trail development are strengthened with community engagement and young people’s opportunities to learn about the diversity in biodiversity protection methods. As for barriers, we strongly believe in free volunteering to make these experiences and learning opportunities more accessible to a wider audience of young people. I for one was inspired after joining The Þórsmörk Trails Volunteers as a volunteer myself in 2020. Six years on and I am still in the valley of Þórsmörk and Goðaland, hopefully inspiring the next young graduates.

The final question was addressed to everyone in the panel:
What does a hopeful, just and resilient Arctic future look like from your perspective?

For me, I believe it is one that strongly recognises and acts on the understanding that we are part of nature, not apart from it – an Arctic region that actively responds to the environmental and societal concerns of everyone who lives in the Arctic, not just passively listens. We are all connected in this wider Arctic, and if we can all play our part to be inclusive, respectful, and environmentally conscious, that will lead to a more hopeful future.

I would also like to see improved youth mobility. An Arctic that promotes more environmental programmes which offer holistic training and mentoring for capacity sharing in a way that is accessible and financially viable for youth. After all, this is what influenced my own life, and I am all the more thankful for it. 

Camilla Aviaja Olsen’s Keynote Speech
Make the “co” make sense
 
We have the pleasure and honour of publishing a keynote speech delivered at the Arctic Frontiers conference. The conference was held in February 2026 in Tromsø, Norway. The keynote speech was part of the panel session organised by the CAP-SHARE project, entitled Intergenerational Capacity Sharing: The Connection Between Nature and Youth.
 
The speech was originally given in English.

Keynote speech:
Make the “co” make sense
Camilla Aviaja Olsen
Chair, Arctic Council’s Sustainable Development Working Group (SDWG)
 
Good morning everybody and thank you for being here with us.

My name is Camilla Aviaja Olsen, and I work at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Research of the Government of Greenland. I am part of the Kingdom of Denmark’s Arctic Council Chairship team, and I also serve as Chair of the Arctic Council’s Sustainable Development Working Group. I would like to thank the organizers for the opportunity and begin by sharing my appreciation of the format.

I feel like it makes sense to meet in this space, which brings together people who are too often separated in decision-making processes: Indigenous Peoples and their communities, youth, elders, scientists, policy makers – all of you. Today’s conversation is about biodiversity, youth and resilience. But I would say that, more fundamentally, it is about who gets to define the issues, whose knowledge counts, and how decisions about the Arctic are made. I will focus my speech on one single syllable, which can prove incredibly complex to articulate and implement. That syllable is, simply, “co”.

Consultation, inclusion, stakeholder engagement.

These are terms we typically hear in policy development processes. They are not necessarily bad, but they are not enough. Participation in these processes alone does not equal power over them. Consultation does not equal consent, and listening does not equal concerted decision-making. Adding the prefix “co-” to ongoing processes without a genuine transformative intention can easily become a mere box-ticking exercise. There is a very thin line between meaningful engagement and tokenism.

• Co-creation means that knowledge is shaped together, from the very beginning, and not just added at the end.
• Co-development means that priorities are defined collectively, not explained or translated after decisions have been made.
• Co-implementation means communities are not just informants, but leaders and partners.
• Co-governance means that authority, accountability and responsibility are shared.

For Indigenous Peoples, this is not a new idea. It reflects the way in which knowledge has mostly been held and shared: through relationships, collectivity and across generations. But for many institutions, the “co” still challenges deeply rooted habits. Who sets agendas, who controls data, whose timelines matter, and whose knowledge is considered credible. I see this session as an attempt to take the “co” seriously. Not as a buzzword, but as a practice that requires time, trust and humility. Co-creation is necessary and, more often than not, is based on good intentions. But it is not enough. The “co” has to be extended to the implementation process, as well as to the very definition of the issues that are being addressed.

What is needed, in this particular context, is co-governance on equitable terms. This means recognizing Indigenous peoples as rights-holders, not just as one of many stakeholders. It means creating appropriate structures for co-leadership. It is not just a matter of them being consulted, so that only what is convenient is taken into account if it fits the project timeline. Indigenous Peoples are often on the receiving end of policies and frameworks that focus on the Arctic. I believe that it is only right that they should be in the driving seat, rather than being relegated to the back seat amongst other stakeholders. To achieve this, we need to invest in capacity-building and education. We need to invest in youth leadership and in structures that can outlast individual funding cycles. I noted my appreciation for the format earlier, and I think it is great to be able to create spaces like today’s discussion, which are rooted in this understanding. The challenge lies in sustaining them and allowing them to shape the way we do things.

Another challenge of working in a collaborative way lies in the fact that different knowledge systems can be seen as competing. I too often hear it presented as an either/or choice: Indigenous knowledge or scientific knowledge. Traditional versus modern. I don’t think we should let our reality be limited by this framing. Indigenous knowledge systems are adaptive, rooted in long-term observations, and closely tied to the land and our responsibility towards it. The challenge is not whether Indigenous and scientific knowledge systems can work together. The challenge is whether we are willing to create the ethical and synergistic conditions for its co-production.

• That means free, prior and informed consent.
• It means respecting Indigenous data ownership.
• It means understanding that knowledge is not just information.
• It is a responsibility, and often an identity.
• It involves a relationship.

And here we are today, trying to find ways for “intergenerational” to mean continuity, rather than rupture. When youth and elders are brought together in co-learning and co-leadership, knowledge is not just transferred, it evolves. Capacity is not only built, it is shared. This is why today’s panel session should not be a symbolic one-off. The youth are not here to represent a future idea; they are here as present-day knowledge holders. We have to make sure we are able to transform this engagement into actionable solutions, moving towards more thriving communities. This is done not by adding a “perspective” on already-shaped policies, but by a recognition of a deeper shared responsibility.

But again, this requires co-governance structures, not one-off consultations. It means that parties, institutions and individuals need to allow themselves to be transformed by the relationships they enter into. Even if that means moving away from the comfort of your day-to-day. Thriving communities create better policy. Thriving ecosystems sustain livelihoods, culture and identity. These outcomes are inseparable.

As we delve into this discussion, I invite us to shift the focus of our questions.

• Not only: How do we protect Arctic biodiversity?
  But also: How do we ensure that communities can thrive with it?
• Not only: How do we include Indigenous knowledge?
  But: How do we co-lead with Indigenous Peoples in shaping the future?

Thriving is not passive. It is practised. Through co-creation, co-governance and shared care for our environment.  So how am I hoping this session will contribute? First, it is around the voices of Arctic Indigenous youth. It also creates space to explore practical pathways for integrating Indigenous knowledge into biodiversity governance: ethically, respectfully, and effectively. And finally, it seeks to generate concrete outcomes: co-created principles for knowledge integration and co-governance. Youth-led ideas for education and policy engagement. And a pathway for continued cooperation between communities, scientists and decision-makers across the Arctic. But, just as importantly, it aims to model a different way of working together – one based on shared responsibility for the future of the Arctic.

As we move on to the panel discussion, I invite everyone here to listen a little differently. There may be a difference between what you want to hear and what you need to hear.  Let’s be honest: this isn’t your first discussion on the future of the Arctic, and nor will it be your last. We can do better. We have to do better. Allow yourselves to be inspired, but also challenged, and even provoked. The Arctic does not need more well-intentioned decisions made without the participation of those who live there. It needs shared leadership and relationships that are strong enough to withstand disagreements and uncertainty.

Make the “co” make sense.

I challenge you, for today’s discussion and for the rest of the conference, to remember that we are not talking about abstract concepts here. We are talking about people’s livelihoods, lands and languages. We are talking about heritage and culture. In my case, I am talking about home. Remember this when futures are being negotiated, often without the full involvement of the people who will be directly impacted.  We cannot afford that.

With that, I would like to thank you all and it will be a pleasure to continue this discussion with my fellow panellists.

Qujanaq. Thank you. 

Sustainability expert and doctoral researcher Auni Haapala has started work as a planner in the CAP-SHARE project of the University of Lapland on 14 April 2026. Haapala will participate in the implementation of the project's workshops and other activities and produce project content, such as educational materials and policy recommendations, related to strengthening the participation of young people and local communities in the Arctic region in biodiversity issues.

Haapala's background is in multidisciplinary environmental research. She has previously worked in research and development projects dealing with the impacts of climate change at, for example, the City of Helsinki and the Finnish Meteorological Institute, examining in particular the intersections of land use, climate change and inequality. Since 2021, Haapala has been delving into local and regional environmental governance issues in the Arctic region as part of her doctoral research at the Gender Studies Unit of the University of Lapland.

The central objective of the Interreg NPA-funded CAP-SHARE project is to strengthen the agency of young people and local communities as well as intergenerational communication on issues of strengthening biodiversity in the Arctic region. In addition to the University of Lapland, the project – which runs until 2027 – is implemented by the Icelandic Museum of Natural History (coordinator) and the Norwegian Arctic Frontiers.

Vesa Orassalo’s panel speech 
 
Tiõrv! 

We have the pleasure and honour to publish Vesa Orassalo’s speech at the CAP-SHARE panel Intergenerational Capacity Sharing: The Connection Between Nature and Youth. The panel was held at the Arctic Frontiers conference in February 2026 in Tromsø, Norway.

The speech was originally given in Finnish, and it has been translated into English, Northern Sámi, Inari Sámi and Skolt Sámi.
 
Panel speech: Tiõrv! 
 
Vesa Orassalo, Skolt Sámi Fisherman and Preservice Teacher, University of Lapland

Tiõrv!
 
I was given a wonderful opportunity to attend the Arctic Frontiers 2026 conference in Tromsø. In this article, I will tell you about my participation in the CAP-SHARE panel discussion. The topics discussed include the Sámi identity, the Arctic and education.
 
First, I want to tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Vesa Orassalo and I study education at the University of Lapland. Deep down, I am a hunter and a fisherman. I am interested in the Arctic, the rights of indigenous peoples, and nature and its conservation. I come from the small village of Neiden in the Skolt Sámi region at the border of Finland and Norway.
 
The timing for the conference was perfect, as on 6 February, we celebrated the Sámi National Day. I was invited by the CAP-SHARE project of the Faculty of Education of the University of Lapland to participate in a panel discussion on young people’s views on the changing Arctic environment. I also participated in a student forum consisting of students from different parts of the Arctic region. I was also honoured to speak at the True North – Who is the Arctic? event. I was able to speak to a large audience at the event’s final Big Picture event, entitled Stories from the Coast, and I spoke about the changes in salmon fishing from the perspective of a Skolt Sámi youth.
 
CAP-SHARE panel discussion
On Wednesday morning on 4 February, I arrived nearly on time at the Saga hotel where the panel took place. I was not nervous since I was used to the situation and the concept. I had also prepared well for the questions. The topics discussed were biodiversity and the resilience of communities in the northern and Arctic regions. Two young Sámi persons, as well as Icelandic and Greenlandic youths took part in the panel discussion.
 
The first question was addressed to me.
 
What does biodiversity and the resilience of communities mean to you in your everyday life and in your home region? 

For me, biodiversity means a more interesting life. In my region, people enjoy nature in many ways. Older people, such as my grandmother, care for small animals, such as birds and rabbits, where they live. This could be the highlight of their day. As a hunter, I pay attention to aspects of diversity that affect my own way of life. By this I mean that when I see a lot of moles, I know that small predators are hunting them instead of young willow grouse. Dense willow thickets, on the other hand, mean a good hiding and feeding spot for many game animals.

Biodiversity means opportunities for me. Biodiversity and the resilience of communities mean having the capacity to face short-term and long-term changes affecting local opportunities. How does climate change and other challenges, such as overgrazing, mining, forestry, and the green transition, affect nature and how do we keep up with it? How does nature keep up with it?

What does a hopeful, fair and sustainable Arctic future look like from your perspective?

For me, it looks like a region with scars left by the current problems we are facing today. However, the region is recovering. Winters are still freezing cold. Summers continue to be tolerable to biodiversity. Salmon still head up the river to spawn. Drought is not a constant threat. Birds can still hatch in stable weather conditions. Large animals, such as reindeer and elk, can handle the heat.

The Arctic continues to exist as a place we can still recognise.

How do you feel connected to land and water, such as rivers, lakes, coastal areas, tundra, forests, or fells, and how do these relationships shape your identity and vision of the future?

The answer to this question was very similar among all Sámi panellists. In my opinion, this illustrates how we indigenous peoples experience nature as an integral part of our lives.

In my turn, I said that I feel a deep connection with nature. When nature suffers, I suffer too. Even before I started upper secondary school, I told my family and friends that when I die, I want my ashes to be spread into the wilderness. I want to be part of nature forever. These environments and the opportunities they offer have already shaped my future. To this day, every decision I have made has supported my life in the Arctic. Whether it was about school, career or relationships, I always choose the option that will guide me back to nature.

Like a salmon returning to its native river. Like a goose returning to a wild pond after the winter, I will always return to my home region. But first, I must survive the “winter” of my life, that is, university and finding direction for my life.

What role should education play in empowering young people to contribute to protecting biodiversity, adapting to climate change, and strengthening the resilience of communities?

This question was the only one that was directly related to my studies and not to my close relationship with nature. I discussed my bachelor’s thesis in class teacher education entitled “The significance of a positive relationship with nature in education”. My research revealed that especially the positive experiences of nature gained at an early age, younger than 11, are extremely important for the development of a positive relationship with nature, which in turn leads to more positive environmental behaviour.

In my answer, I stressed that teachers and the curriculum have a significant educational impact on young people who will protect the environment and act responsibly. The importance of education is growing significantly in cities and for families that do not have the same opportunity to take their children to enjoy nature as families in smaller localities.

In my opinion, school education and the curriculum should include time spent in nature.

In your opinion, how is information related to indigenous peoples and local information currently included in biodiversity management and policy-making processes?

I agreed with the other Sámi panellists that people and authorities do listen to the locals but not enough. One panellist compared the situation to consulting young people and children. They are asked for their opinion, but it rarely affects the final decision. I brought up an example of authorities ignoring local information about River Tana a few years ago. The locals reported that the location of the dam was bad, but their opinions went unheard.

Today, I am also a deputy member of the Neiden Skolt Council. Based on my experience as a member of the Council, I can say that local opinions are heard on many issues related to biodiversity and nature. However, I do not know how often the locals actually influence decisions and to what extent, because I have only held this position for a short time. Nevertheless, I think that we are moving in a good direction.

Conclusion
Arctic Frontiers was not just a conference for me, but a reminder of why I am doing what I do. Nature, my home region, and its people are not just themes for me – they are the foundation of my life. That week filled me with renewed enthusiasm and the young people I met gave me inspiration and hopefully useful contacts for the future.

If we want a future for the Arctic, we must listen to those who live there. I will do my part to make those voices heard. We must also raise new generations to join our choir.

I am incredibly grateful to the CAP-SHARE project for allowing me to participate in the conference.
 
Vesa’s WHO IS THE ARCTIC speech on YouTube:
 https://www.youtube.com/live/LEoZ7u-EOM0?si=De-Z09tvRc4VvMAS

4.2.2026
We are delighted to publish the keynote speech delivered at the Arctic Frontiers Conference in February 2026 in Tromsø, Norway, as part of the CAP-SHARE project session Intergenerational Capacity Sharing: The Connection Between Nature and Youth

Keynote: The Cloudberry Theory of Capacity Sharing

Hans Ravna-Pieski Sámi Youth Council, Sámi Parliament, Finland


the cloudberry theory of capacity sharing

I like cloudberries. Yeah, those orange ones. I mean that first one of the season, freshly picked... oh yeah.

However, if one is to store these berries for the cold, long winter, I think you need a secret ingredient. So let me start this off, by dropping some real certified Indigenous knowledge on you, right here, right now... You gotta add some sugar, man.

And, okay, many may already know this, but maybe the secret is actually not so much in the ingredient, but the quantity. You don’t just add a little bit. You add… You add it like this:

The cloudberry season is only once a year. And so is this conference. And to get the most out of this event, I think there are some secret ingredients and quantities involved here, too.

My name is Hans Ravna-Pieski. I’m from the river valleys of the far North in Finland, from a small village called Ohcejohka, which lies by the river Deatnu.

I’m also from The Sámi Youth Council in Finland and I have a background in journalism at Yle Sápmi. Currently, I’m studying Information Technology at Tampere University and I’m specializing in AI and language technology.

So I spend my days teaching machines human language. But in my experience, the hardest work isn't getting the machines to understand us, it's getting us to understand us. And that requires more than just presence. Because being here today is not just about sitting in a room at Saga Hotel.

Many of you have made a great journey to join us today, though. I would assume most of you woke up pretty early, too. That’s effort, and it shows that you care. And seeing all this effort here today... amusingly, it reminds me of going out to pick cloudberries.

There are some differences, though. We all knew the exact date for this event a long time in advance. But you don’t know exactly when the cloudberry season begins.

I mean, obviously, one could use all their Indigenous knowledge and know-how and think "Oh, the snow melted pretty early this year... the summer has been quite hot... and there were so-and-so many mosquitoes..." And then you just get a feeling. Hmm, yeah. The berries could be ripe in that place right now.

And so you decide: Tomorrow I will wake up early, and I will go there. Like how all of you came here today.

And so, you put your boots on, your backpack, and you grab your bucket. You start walking. You leave the road and step onto the springing moss. You trudge through the wetlands where the ground tries to suck the boots right off your feet, šchlop šchlop šchlop.

Eventually, you get to your super-secret spot... but no. No berries. So you think: "Hmm, okay, well, there’s this other place nearby."

You walk there. Now the sweat is running down your back. The mosquitoes have found you, they are buzzing in your ears, biting your neck. It’s not fun. And some people have this theory about the Sámi, “Nooo, they don’t feel the mosquitoes…!” But you keep going.

You arrive at the… jeaggi – the swamp. But the berries aren’t ripe, or maybe they’re already too old. And you look here, and you look there... and nothing.

And you start looking down at your feet as you walk, and this is where you start questioning your own cultural identity. Am I even Sámi? I’ve miscalculated everything. I have lost the connection. My elders have abandoned me.

But just before you decide to abandon your whole culture, move south for the rest of your life, get a southern wife, never teach your kids to speak Sámi, and die an old, bitter, miserable man...

You see one shiny cloudberry. And then you see a few more.

You raise your head, and in front of you, the whole swamp is glowing. Like an amber blanket, there’s a sea of orange gold stretching out against the green moss.

And you are so happy. "Yes! I found them! I’m Sámi after all!"

I hope many of you are also happy to be here today. And let me assure you: You have come to the right swamp. However, to tell you the truth... coming here was the easy part. You still have all these berries to pick.

And here is the final thing about the cloudberry.

You know the berry is truly ripe... not when you need to forcefully pull it from its stem. But when you merely touch it, and it detaches effortlessly. It wants you to take it. It wants to be shared.

So, let’s make sure our ideas are prepared to do the same. Let's make our knowledge accessible, add a little sugar if we have to, and let's fill those buckets.

Thank you.

We are delighted to publish the keynote speech delivered at the Arctic Spirit Conference in May in Rovaniemi, as part of the CAP-SHARE project session Building Future Security Together: Transdisciplinary and Intergenerational Capacity Sharing for Community Development in the Arctic.

Keynote:
The Boys of Frost from Lapland
Pauli Taulavuori and Aaron Yliniemi
Muonio high school/general upper secondary school, Finland 

Dear participants and organizers of the Arctic Spirit Conference: 

We are Aaron Yliniemi and Pauli Taulavuori from Muonio. We’re here to share what safety in the Arctic region means to us as young people, as well as the challenges and opportunities we face in our environment. Muonio is a unique place—you can tell just by the ‘penguins’ that live here in winter. These are not the penguins you’re probably picturing, but young locals wrapped in long black snowmobile jackets, fur hats and warm boots, looking like penguins in the freezing cold. In summer, the style shifts to another characteristic Muonio look: caps, hiking pants and rubber boots. 
After the harsh winter comes the North’s finest moment: spring. Nature slowly awakens, and the sun shines dazzlingly. Early spring can even bring snow blindness, and sometimes rapidly changing conditions cause the roads to freeze, posing trouble for cyclists and drivers. I have slipped on ice despite using studded bicycle tyres, and the worst wasn’t the fall—it was getting soaked in icy water from head to toe! Still, I wouldn’t trade Lapland’s nature for anything. The Arctic offers incredible outdoor experiences, such as snowshoeing under the Northern Lights or climbing a fell in the spring sun. 
Life up North is tough in many ways. Mosquitoes can keep you awake into the early hours, swatting them away in the endless summer light. In winter, we pile on every blanket we’ve got, heaters cranked to the max, as the frost rules our daily lives for most of the year, even longer than the dark winter days. Beyond our winter gear, we often bike or walk to school. Homes need fireplaces alongside electric heating because electricity alone doesn’t cut it. Thankfully, Finland has plenty of wood. 
Our sense of safety is shaped by big things outside of our daily lives, such as geopolitical issues. The conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East in recent years have led us to read more news, and we constantly see updates about Russia’s actions or other global tensions. These don’t exactly scare us but instead make us wonder how they might affect us up here and where these conflicts are headed. Since joining NATO, our sense of security has definitely grown--we’ve even watched military exercises in the Arctic from the sidelines. We also view NATO and defence as potential future job opportunities. So, despite serious global conflicts, we believe and want the Arctic to stay safe.  
On a practical level, safety comes from the people of the Arctic community. It’s amazing to see how everyone knows each other, sharing knowledge and skills. In schools, our strong team spirit stems from this familiarity, making it easy for us to work together. Tourism is a big employer here—reindeer are now more of a tourist attraction than just something used for food. It’s essential to continue developing tourism, but not to the extent that it harms nature or disrupts the locals’ peace. 
As young people, we want to keep the Arctic lively and clean for ourselves and future generations. Having opportunities to study and work here is vital. The North can offer a solid foundation for life, and despite the distances, opportunities allow us to connect with others. 
For us, Arctic safety is about beating the cold, pondering global events under the Northern Lights, and cherishing our community spirit. We believe we can keep this unique place a safe home. Thank you, and let’s make the North even stronger and safer!

At the beginning of 2025, I had the opportunity to apply for an academic excursion just as I had started working as a project employee in the Cap-Share project at the University of Lapland. I was asked if I would be interested in participating in the selection process for an academic excursion that would take me from Greenland through the Canadian Arctic all the way to the southern coast of Alaska. The excursion, organised by the University of Tromsø, is called Arctic Future Pathfinders – A Journey Through the Northwest Passage. The studies conducted during the excursion focus on environmental changes in the Arctic and their socio-economic impacts from a multidisciplinary perspective. Participants develop both probable and preferable future scenarios for the Arctic region. The journey was planned to take place aboard a sailing ship, although at that time, the duration and full scope of the excursion were still unclear to me.

Thoughts of a sailing ship in the Arctic brought to mind old photographs from books featuring Ernest Shackleton sailing to Antarctica aboard the Endurance, and the voyages of Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, the first to navigate the Northwest Passage. Without much deliberation or concern for the unknown, I replied simply, “Yes, I’m interested.” I assumed the chances of being selected were relatively low, but the idea of experiencing Northern Canada and Alaska was incredibly appealing.

The first months in my new job during the winter of 2025 were filled with themes of Arctic futures, planning an international collaboration seminar for the project, and organising a session for the Arctic Spirit conference. As winter began to fade and spring inevitably approached, I received the news: I had been selected to participate in the Arctic Future Pathfinders study trip. The idea of traveling along the Northwest Passage felt surreal—I could already picture myself on the deck of the ship, wondering what I would encounter along the way. The journey would take place aboard the s/s Statsraad Lehmkuhl, a sailing ship that has crossed seas for over 100 years. I imagined what it would be like to sail aboard a steel-hulled, three-masted ship built in 1914, following in Roald Amundsen’s footsteps.

The Arctic Future Pathfinders route begins in Greenland before heading toward the Canadian Arctic Archipelago and continuing to the United States along the Alaskan coast. Participants were divided into two groups: Group 1 would sail the leg from Nuuk, Greenland to Cambridge Bay, Nunavut, Canada. Group 2, which I would be a part of, would travel from Cambridge Bay, Canada to Anchorage, Alaska, USA. The route follows the Northwest Passage and transitions through the Bering Strait to trace the Alaskan coastline to the small town of Whittier. Anchorage, the final destination, lacks a deep-water port, so we would travel there by land from Whittier. Whittier is known for its large apartment building where nearly all of its residents live. The building also houses essential services such as a school, a store, and a post office. The only land route to Whittier passes through a tunnel under Maynard Mountain.

The mountains and nature of Northern Canada and Alaska have been a dream destination of mine since childhood. I felt incredibly fortunate that my academic excursion would take place in these landscapes. Preparing for the journey required each participant to complete a long list of individual tasks, including vaccination certificates, a certificate from a maritime doctor, and travel permits such as a visa. The U.S. visa application is submitted online, followed by a visa interview. The interview at the U.S. Embassy in Helsinki, Finland was an interesting experience. Entry requirements for Canada, on the other hand, can be completed online in as little as 30 minutes.

One exciting detail revealed in the packing list was the ship’s accommodation: we would sleep in hammocks in a large hall with about 60 other participants. Although the hall is heated, it may be chilly at night. I had anticipated the voyage to be a traditional sailing experience with ship duties, watch shifts, and sail handling—but sleeping in a hammock was a pleasant bonus.

By summer, I had acquired the necessary items from the packing list, and my gear was ready. Group 1 had departed from Nuuk on 5 August 2025, and was already sailing toward Cambridge Bay. However, as August progressed, gray clouds gathered on the horizon of the study trip: the route of the Statsraad Lehmkuhl was changed.

We received a message from the ship stating that ice conditions made sailing through the Northwest Passage too dangerous, and the vessel would instead head toward Bermuda and the Panama Canal. Soon after, we received further updates from Tromsø: the excursion would still take place, but it would be conducted on land. We would travel from our home cities to Edmonton on 26 August, and from there fly to Cambridge Bay at the end of August. We would spend approximately a week in field conditions in Cambridge Bay and travel to Anchorage in early September. The planned return home is scheduled for mid-September.

As I write this blog post, there is only one day left until departure for Northern Canada. Despite the changes, the atmosphere is exciting and full of anticipation—I will experience many new things, and the journey will surely be unforgettable. This time, however, no wetsuit was needed. Reflecting on the connections between Arctic Future Pathfinders and the Cap-Share project, I can conclude with the following: Biodiversity is not only about the diversity of nature, but also about strengthening the bonds between people and places. When students, researchers, and communities from across the Arctic—from Northern Finland to Anchorage—share their experiences and learn from one another during this upcoming journey, new perspectives and hope emerge. Together, we can influence the future of the Arctic region.

Heikki Tiilikka, Junior Researcher, University of Lapland, CAP-SHARE