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This article is based on interviews and informal conversations in Tasiilaq and Kulusuk, supplemented by the analysis of written sources. It further draws from my ethnographic fieldwork in Tunu (East Greenland) since the early/mid-2000s, including visits to several towns along the Greenlandic West Coast. Between 2005 and 2008 as part of my PhD field research, I lived for 16 months in Tasiilaq and in the village of Sermiligaaq. In my language apprenticeship of Tunumiusut (the East Greenlandic language), I explored the value of personal autonomy in the ways people communicate with each other, and more broadly in human-environmental relations (Elixhauser 2018a). In a shorter project that provides a backbone for this article, I researched the impacts of Arctic militarization on East Greenlandic society (Elixhauser 2018b). Since the times of my PhD fieldwork, I travel to Tunu every couple of years to see friends. More recently, I returned to Tasiilaq for a transdisciplinary research project on climate and environmental changes, with two field trips in summer 2022 and spring 2023. While I have heard about the hopes for a new airport in Tasiilaq for almost 20 years now, and I once and again engaged in conversations about it, the field research for this article took place in 2023. Interviews were conducted mostly in English, while shorter conversations were held in Tunumiusut, supplemented by some Danish.

As climate change negatively affects travel and transport throughout the Arctic, Greenland is on its way to improving its aviation infrastructure to better serve its social and economic needs. Greenland’s large airports, built by foreign military forces, are located far from Greenlandic towns, though new communities have emerged around most of them (Christensen et al. 2020; Lutz 2009; Mikkelsen 2006). One such example is Kangerlussuaq, the country’s main hub and international airport, located at the site of a former U.S. Air Force base. Kulusuk airport, the entry to the remote East Coast of Greenland, was built along with an American radar station on an island 21 kms from Tasiilaq, the regional capital. As in other regions of the country, Tasiilaq and Kulusuk are connected by helicopter shuttle (Ancker 1999; Lauritzen 1985). While plans to build new airports closer to Greenlandic towns have been discussed for years, they became more concrete in 2014. Inatsisartut, the Greenlandic parliament, decided to build new airports in Nuuk, the capital, as well as in Ilulissat, Qaqortoq, and the two East Greenlandic towns of Tasiilaq and Ittoqqortoormiit (Naalakkersuisut 2014). Yet, as construction of the three airports in West Greenland began—the international airport in Nuuk plans to open in late 2024 and Ilulissat airport in 2025—discussions around their counterparts on the East Coast grew silent (Christensen et al. 2020; Vanek [unpublished]).

In this article, I take up the perspective of the Tasiilaq region on the sparsely populated Greenlandic East Coast (called Tunu in Greenland), only a two-hour flight from Iceland (see Figure 1). The region is comprised of the town of Tasiilaq and five surrounding villages (see Figure 4). Due to its social problems, Tunu often receives negative press, leaving little space for reports about positive developments. Many residents are frustrated by this one-sided reporting, arguing that political decisions are being made above their heads in the distant centers of West Greenland. This feeling of disenfranchisement is exacerbated by the low priority given to air traffic to/from Tunu, experienced by the residents (Højsgaard 2023; Petersen 2017). Much hope is placed on a new airport in Tasiilaq that would not only allow for a direct connection to the region’s largest community but also negate the cumbersome and often cancelled helicopter flights from Kulusuk. Only those residing in the village of Kulusuk, home to the current airport, are critical of this proposed construction and fear the downgrading or even closure of their airport (and village). Describing Tunumeer’s (residents of East Greenland) 1 hopes and fears and their socio-political contexts, this article shows how aviation infrastructure is never just about the material infrastructure but is always enabled by and embedded in societal processes. While one airport (Tasiilaq)—and with it, connectivity—is in its making, the other airport (Kulusuk) is in its unmaking.

Since the turn of the century, anthropologists’ engagement with infrastructure has significantly increased (Buier 2023; Harvey, Jensen, and Morita 2017). Infrastructures, according to Larkin (2013, 328), can be understood as “built networks that facilitate the flow of goods, people, or ideas and allow for their exchange over space.” Anthropologists have focused on transport infrastructures such as roads (Harvey and Knox 2015), railways (Povoroznyuk et al. 2023), or airports (Adey 2010), thus directing attention to the various other domains that are connected to forms of infrastructure, such as government practices, power structures, sociality, and the entanglements of human and non-human actors. Reeves (2017) has developed the category of “infrastructural hope”, highlighting the affective life of infrastructures, namely, the “more-than-material” that forms part of infrastructural relations, which includes desires and fantasies that, as Larkin writes, “can sometimes be wholly autonomous from their technical functions” (2013, 329). Ren points out that airports are being “cared for,” as they can “fuel on and generate affect, hopes and fear” (2023, 207). Reeves (2017), moreover, draws attention to the instability of infrastructures that results in part from the unpredictability of the material forms themselves. I will illustrate that infrastructures exhibit a distinct temporality, as they not only gesture towards the future but are deeply connected to past infrastructural visions and projects of social transformations (ibid.; Roseau 2012).

An increasing number of scholars highlight the “simultaneity of the material and the social in the coming-into-being of infrastructural forms” (Reeves 2017, 713; cf. Abildgaard et al. 2022; Ren 2023). This relational approach recognizes that all things and humans as well as non-human creatures arise within a “current of materials” and contribute to their transformations (Ingold 2007), while materials, likewise, take an active part in shaping subjective perceptions and attitudes (Bennet 2010; Latour 2005). Building on Ingold’s (2013) appeal that we have often treated products of processes as objects to be analyzed whilst neglecting the practices that produce them, in this article, I focus on the processes involved in the “making” and “unmaking” of airports in Tunu and their political implications, which include both social and material aspects and forces.

Speaking of political, I must mention a corpus of literature highlighting the links between infrastructural developments and the hallmarks of capitalist globalization characterized by increased connectivity and the acceleration of life in general (Urry 2007; Virilio 2006). Some authors have focused on ruptures and infrastructural breakdowns and the shortcomings of the modernist promise of progress and efficiency (Graham 2010; Latour 1993). They argue that building infrastructure is far from neutral, as it may not only serve political interests but also enforce regimes of control or lead to inclusion, exclusion, or even abjection (Anand, Gupta, and Appel 2018). The latter has been framed in terms of “infrastructural violence” by Rodgers and O’Neill (2012), a concept that I find useful in relation to the East Greenland case.

Discussions about a new airport in Tasiilaq once and again revolve around the wish for greater connectivity to the centers in West Greenland and beyond. Following Saxer and Schorch (2020), I regard connectivity not merely as a connection between two discrete entities but as a mode of becoming. While things develop through the connections in which they are engaged, connections may also be “imbued with material qualities” (ibid., 2). In Greenland, accelerating climate change has a deep impact on connectivity and the economy at large, generating questions about resource extraction, new routes of travel, transport, and forms of tourism, as well as sovereignty issues closely linked to Greenland’s wish for independence from Denmark (Bjørst and Ren 2015; Hall 2020; Nuttall 2017; Sejersen 2015). Greenlandic discourses regarding improved connectivity often center around strengthening social cohesion, economic development, and better access to medical and educational services (Abildgaard et al. 2022). However, respective initiatives often implement technical solutions in rural regions in a top-down manner and fail to consider local views and circumstances, be it in the field of transport or communication infrastructure. Focusing on the latter, Abildgaard and colleagues (2022, 73) call for “a careful balance of local needs and technological possibilities to make the most of existing resources while providing valuable and flexible solutions.” Building on this call, this article aims to amplify Tunumeer’s voices in the run-up of infrastructural projects and provide an overview of the diversity of standpoints and the circumstances within which they emerge.

The Arctic is often conceptualized as a remote region of the world, where transport infrastructure is particularly important. Indeed, infrastructure is often seen as a tool to “overcome remoteness” (Schweitzer and Povoroznyuk 2019, 236). Because cities and towns in Greenland are not connected by roads and the country has no railroad, aviation is the main means to travel longer distances. Ships and boats are above all used for the transport of goods and shorter-distance travel (except for cruise ships from outside the region). When speaking about the “remoteness” of the Arctic region, however, one must be careful not to reproduce romantic notions of a harmonious isolate devoid of connection to the outside world. Greenland and other places in the Arctic have always been and are deeply enmeshed within manifold social, (geo-)political, and economic global processes and realignments (e.g., Andersen and Flora 2019). Moreover, remoteness cannot be reduced to spatial dimensions and equated with marginality, as Ardener (2012) puts forth. It is not a “timeless condition ‘fixed in place’” but rather a “process actively made and remade across political, material and historical scales” (Saxer and Andersson 2019: 143). Remoteness is always entangled with history and power, and it involves distancing and the breaking and forging of new ties (Schweitzer 2021). I explore these processes in East Greenland, where many residents feel “remote” from political and nation-building activities that take place above all in the centers of West Greenland.

Figure 1

Map of Greenland

Map of Greenland
by Peter Heermes Furian 7 iStock

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I begin by highlighting current issues with air traffic in the region. After some background about Tunu and the development of air traffic, I focus on the plans for a new Tasiilaq airport and on residents’ hopes and concerns, respectively. I explore how the residents’ desire to have better connectivity and being included in the social and economic development of the country are linked to the proposed airport, the feelings of dejection and abandonment that have accompanied the project’s many delays, and the threats this new airport poses to the village of Kulusuk. The feelings of exclusion expressed by East Greenlanders, as shown thereafter, are based on long-standing disparities between East and West Greenland. Bringing together ethnography and theoretical approaches, I then discuss the socio-material dynamics of hope and connectivity in the making and unmaking of airports in Tunu. The conclusion provides a brief look at the role of these future prospects for Tasiilaq.

Difficulties with Current Air Traffic

Traveling to Tasiilaq in April 2023.

We are approaching the East Coast of Greenland from Keflavik (Iceland) with a twin-engine turboprop regional airliner Dash 8-400 (Figure 5). The aircraft contains 10 other passengers. These are two Greenlandic men on their way home, a group of U.S. ski tourists planning on backcountry touring near the village of Kuummiit as well as two American guys aiming at crossing the Greenlandic ice cap with their skis. The East Greenlandic coastline comes into sight. Approaching Kulusuk, the fog is getting stronger. Landing and take-off at Kulusuk are only possible visually, hence under visual flight rules. My neighbouring passengers and I are getting a little nervous that the aircraft might have to turn around, as it happened to me a few times in previous years. I then had to add some extra days in Iceland waiting for better weather. The aircraft is already flying quite low when, finally, the fog goes away, the small East Greenlandic airport comes into sight, and we are landing. A short walk on the landing strip brings us to the arrival hall in the terminal building (see Figure 2). In the summer months, with a lot of tourist groups arriving and departing, the small terminal can sometimes be chaotic and packed with people.

I have booked a helicopter shuttle to proceed to Tasiilaq that is meant to leave an hour after my arrival from Iceland. Knowing that the departures of the helicopters often change, due to the weather or other constraints, I take a seat in the arrival hall. I observe the buzzing one-room airport hall, with various people coming and going, once and again encountering familiar faces. There is a kiosk where you can buy coffee, soft drinks, sweets, and fast food such as hot dogs. Different people are around: Indigenous Tunumeer speaking to each other in Tunumiusut, local Danes (or some residents carrying other nationalities), be it passengers, tour operators, or airport staff, and the tourists recognized easily through their outfits, equipment, and languages spoken. A big screen above our heads shows arrivals and departures. The fog outside is back and visibility once again is poor. After a while, the screen says that all helicopter flights are postponed. We shall wait for further announcements. The ski mountaineers and their guides are leaving the building; two snowmobile drivers will bring them to the ice edge where they will be picked up by boats from Kuummiit. Some more people are arriving, including some Greenlandic ladies speaking the West Greenlandic language. The departure of the planned flight to Nuuk is approaching.

An hour later, I talk to the airport employee in charge, and he does not give much hope for flights still happening today. Soon after, the screen above our heads shows that all helicopter flights and the flight to Nuuk are cancelled. It is late afternoon, and many people leave the building. A small group of people including myself stay behind. We are the ones without the possibility of private accommodations in the nearby village or alternative transport options. The airport employees try to organize our lodging, which seems to be challenging. There is only one hotel in Kulusuk, yet they are already fully booked. It is heliskiing season. Then we are being told that all the females, three Greenlandic women and I, will be accommodated at Hotel Kulusuk for the night. The two American ski tourists shall stay at some nearby workers’ accommodation. Their lodging will be simpler than ours, a lady from the airport will prepare food for the night, and they will have breakfast back at the airport kiosk. At the hotel, I enjoy the evening menu with my Greenlandic companions. The two ladies from Nuuk are on their way home having given a teacher’s training course in Tasiilaq, and a young Tunumeer aims to attend a course in social work in Nuuk. The next day, the weather is sunny. It still takes until 17:00 before a helicopter is available to fly to Tasiilaq and I finally reach my destination. (Elixhauser, field diary, April 2023)

Figure 2

Kulusuk airport

Kulusuk airport
Photo by Sophie Elixhauser, May 2023

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This vignette highlights some of the troubles caused by the many flight delays and cancellations in Tunu. Such irregularities are quite common throughout Greenland and much of the Arctic region (Lauritzen 1985) and appear to be particularly pronounced in the Tasiilaq region, due to the combination of planes and helicopters. The weather in both Kulusuk and Tasiilaq is decisive for a flight connection to work out; weather conditions often differ from one location to the other and may also quickly change. Passengers often get stranded. The airline responsible for the cancellation must pay accommodations and food for the stranded passengers. This is not only expensive for the airlines, but for Greenlanders on the route this means regularly losing days they planned to spend with family, friends, or for job meetings, trainings, etc. Most obviously, these unpredictabilities are detrimental to tourism. Finding lodging and food for the passengers who cannot proceed as planned can also be a problem, particularly in Kulusuk, a small village of 227 inhabitants (Statistics Greenland 2024c), where the only hotel does not always have enough capacity, as was the case for the two Americans described in the vignette. In the winter, with no supply vessels arriving, the local shops can sometimes be rather empty and organizing food can be challenging.

In June 2023, a similar incident was reported by Greenlandic Broadcasting Company, KNR (Liv 2023). A helicopter that was meant to transport passengers from Kulusuk to Tasiilaq was called up to act instead as an ambulance. After this, there was too much fog, and the remaining flights were cancelled. As there was not enough space in Hotel Kulusuk, some passengers had to sleep on mattresses on the terminal floor, with their dinner being one French hot dog and a red sausage each. As one of the passengers, Aviaja Ikila Abelsen, explained: “If there is not a new airport for Tasiilaq immediately, they must find solutions in Kulusuk. … This is not the first time this has happened. It is not fun. They need to be better prepared, if they realize there is a lack of space in Kulusuk, why even fly us there? (ibid.; author’s translation).”

Another related incident happened around Easter 2023. Due to unusually large amounts of rainfall, the landing strip of Kulusuk airport was flooded, and the airport closed for a total of 12 days. A group of Scottish students on an educational trip to Tasiilaq were therefore stuck in Kulusuk on their way back home. As the hotel was fully booked, they were accommodated in the local sports hall. It proved difficult to organize camp beds and food, as Justus Hansen, a Greenlandic politician, explained to me. I had a long interview with him in April 2023 (in part together with the district manager Hjørdis Viborg). Born in Tasiilaq, Justus is the Vice-Mayor of Sermersooq municipality, a member of the Greenlandic liberal party Democrats, and also serves as a tourism and business consultant in Tasiilaq.

Another problem, Justus brings forward, is that there is only one helicopter available all year round for the Kulusuk–Tasiilaq route. In the peak of summer travel, even if airplane flights to Kulusuk are available, helicopter flights onto Tasiilaq may be sold out. This can leave residents with no flights home. The cause of the problem is usually attributed to high costs, Justus continues, wondering about this explanation, as “The airplane flights are public, but the helicopters go with a service contract” (interview J. Hansen, April 2023). Hence, helicopter flights are government-subsidized, and the cost-benefit principle does not apply. In previous years, a local operator was contracted to provide a boat shuttle before and after each flight. That said, boat transport is not always possible, due to pack ice or other weather-related issues (Figure 3). At the same time, the Tasiilaq–Kulusuk helicopter connection is prioritized over the connections to the villages around Tasiilaq, and “the villagers have to take what’s left,” as Justus puts it.

Figure 3

Flying from Kulusuk to Tasiilaq

Flying from Kulusuk to Tasiilaq
Photo by Sophie Elixhauser, May 2023

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I also spoke several times with Hjørdis Viborg, the District Manager in Tasiilaq for East Greenland. Her position was a recent creation, driven by the desire of East Coast residents to have an intermediary representative when dealing with politicians in faraway Nuuk. In the joint interview with Justus Hansen, both stated that there is poor communication between Air Greenland and Icelandair, though they were hopeful this would change in time. The two airlines have different booking systems and boarding passes, and it is not uncommon for a helicopter flight to be rescheduled on short notice, causing passengers to reach Kulusuk only after their plane to Iceland has already departed—something I also personally experienced in 2022. Here, the flight connection to Nuuk appears to be prioritized over the connection to Iceland, both asserted. Yet during an infrastructure conference in 2022 in Kulusuk, Air Greenland and Icelandair decided to work better together in the future and to mutually open their booking systems (interview H. Viborg and J. Hansen, April 2023).

Moreover, the East Coast is affected by numerous flight cancellations on the route between Nuuk and Kulusuk, which for many Tunumeer, does not seem justified. In 2021, almost 45% of the flights on this route were cancelled, and 89% of the cancellations were explained by Naalakkersuisut (the Greenlandic government) as being due to weather, the newspaper Sermitsiaq reported (Rytoft 2022). In many cases, the article continues, Air Greenland does not inform the passengers as to the reasons for the cancellations, which gives rise to harsh criticism. Harald Bianco and Knud Mathiassen, both members of Inatsisartut and originally from Tunu, argue that this criticism will hardly be diminished when airplanes from Iceland often land in Nuuk at the same time. Justus Hansen shares this opinion, speaking of far too many strange cancellations due to the fact that people often do not arrive or return as planned when travelling to and from East Greenland. Aware of possible delays due to weather and technical problems, he argues, “cancellations to the East Coast are often due to the East Coast being given lower priority compared to the West Coast” (Petersen 2017; author’s translation). This feeling of being given little priority in transport issues was repeated in many of my conversations and has led a number of East Greenlanders to feel a closer connection to Reykjavik, or Iceland more broadly, than to Nuuk or West Greenland. Justus explains: “Tasiilaq feels closer connected to Reykjavik. It should be Nuuk. People feel … to the outside. These 10 minutes to Kulusuk make it real difficult” (interview J. Hansen, April 2023).

I am under the impression that this feeling of connectedness to Iceland relates mostly to practical issues, such as a medical emergency or infrastructure provided for travelling abroad and less to a distinct social cohesion among Tunumeer and Icelanders. At the same time, prosperous Iceland is sometimes regarded as an economic role model, both for Tunu and Greenland in general (Ren and Jóhannesson 2023). But before I delve into Tunumeer’s hopes and fears regarding the proposed airport in Tasiilaq, I will provide a bit of background on the development of air traffic in East Greenland.

East Greenland and the Development of Air Traffic

The East Coast of Greenland is a sparsely populated region with only 3,079 inhabitants, compared to the more populated West Coast of Greenland, where the remainder of Greenland’s 56,699 inhabitants reside (Statistics Greenland 2024d). East Greenland is called Tunu in Greenlandic, which means the “backside” of the country, and the inhabitants refer to themselves as Tunumeer. While most Tunumeer are Inuit—Iivit in Tunumiusut—the region is also home to a non-Inuit, mainly Danish community of between five and ten percent. Among the residents of East Greenland, Tunumiusut is considered to be its own language and is related to but distinct from Kalaallisut (West Greenlandic), the official Greenlandic language (Elixhauser 2018a). 2

Tunu has a humid, low Arctic climate and is characterized by a fjord landscape with peaks rising to 1,000 m above sea level, interspersed with small glaciers. Storms/winds are quite frequent; two prominent storms are pilerngar (wind coming from the inland) and neqqajar (wind coming from the sea). Rapid climate change has many impacts, with rising temperatures, shrinking glaciers and sea ice, and changes in mobility patterns and ways of transport being just some examples (Buijs 2010; Elixhauser and van der Schot [unpublished]). The local economy is based on fishing, tourism, and some handicrafts, as well as on jobs in the public sector. East Greenland features two inhabited regions: the Tasiilaq region—or Ammassalik district—counting 2,665 inhabitants as of 2024, and the town of Ittoqqortoormiit, a further 1,000 kilometres north, with only 364 inhabitants (see Figure 1; Statistics Greenland 2024b). Both districts were previously separate municipalities until January 2009, when they were incorporated into Sermersooq, the largest municipality in the country with its seat in Nuuk.

The colonization of Tunu took place as recently as 1894. For centuries, the sea ice current carrying huge amounts of pack ice down from North Greenland had prevented ships from reaching the eastern part of Greenland. Even today, the region is only accessible by ship during half of the year. In the winter, bringing in fresh food and other goods/supplies via the sea is impossible. The short shipping period therefore makes air traffic an even greater necessity. Following colonization, Denmark pursued a protection policy supporting a local seal hunting economy. The isolationism ended with World War II, when Greenland became a protectorate of the Unites States for five years. Airports, military facilities, and weather stations were constructed throughout the island. In East Greenland, the Americans set up a radio/meteorological station in Tasiilaq in 1941. In 1942, the American military airport Bluie East Two was built in the Ikateq Fjord (halfway between the villages of Kuummiit and Sermiligaaq) to provide a stopover for American airplanes to refuel on their way to the front. Though the airport was abandoned in 1947 only a few years after its construction, the influx of American workmen and soldiers did bring about social and cultural changes of various sorts (Dzik 2015).

From 1956–58, due to the Cold War, construction of the DYE-4 radar station and an airstrip began on Kulusuk island. DYE-4 formed part of the Distant Early Warning Line, a series of radar stations stretching across the entire Arctic region. Managed conjointly by American and Danish authorities, it was placed atop a mountain, not far from the village of Kulusuk. The airport was established 9.5 kilometres further north, with a 2.5-km gravel road connecting airport and village.

The presence of the Americans and the Danes had manifold impacts on the village of Kulusuk. Although official, contact with the villagers was severely restricted, the reality was quite different, as Arvid Thastum, a Dane and former Chief of DYE-4 and Kulusuk airport explained, when I met him and his now deceased wife Anna Kuitse Thastum in Kulusuk in 2008. Anna was from the village and a famous drum dancer. She told me about the many parties at DYE-4 station and the fun she had had when visiting the site (conversation A. Kuitse Thastum and A. Thastum, September 2008). Clandestine interactions between local women and the workers were an open secret. DYE-4 was also the starting point for the souvenir industry in Kulusuk (Elixhauser 2018b).

Figure 4

Map of the Tasiilaq region

Map of the Tasiilaq region
by Sophie Elixhauser

See the list of figures

The airport soon permitted civilian passengers, and in the 1960s, an air route to Kangerlussuaq was established: the first regular air connection between East and West Greenland (Petersen 1977). From the 1960s onward, the number of tourists started to increase. Kulusuk established a one-day tourism package with travelers from Iceland; a successful business that continues to this day. Tourists get to experience a snapshot of life in an Inuit settlement by walking through Kulusuk village, going to the souvenir shop, visiting the small museum, and experiencing a traditional drum dance performance before flying back to Iceland in the evening. In 1991, DYE-4 was closed and Kulusuk airport was handed over to the Greenland Airport Authority (Mittarfeqarfiit A/S) to become a civilian airport. Featuring a 1,199-meter-long landing strip covered with gravel, Kulusuk airport serves both light and medium fixed-wing aircrafts. It has only one building consisting of a departure/arrival hall and a waiting/check-in hall. Nowadays, with the exception of one-day tourists, the only experience most passengers have with Kulusuk is the airport, where they wait for helicopter connections to Tasiilaq (Dzik 2015).

Modernization of the regional capital Tasiilaq began after Kulusuk airport was built in 1958/59. Modernization and westernization efforts were linked to a general “Danization” policy by the Danish colonial administration. This “Danish cultural imperialism,” Petersen argues, was accompanied by a “West Greenlandic cultural imperialism.” West Greenlanders working in Tunu were trying to “improve” local conditions by drawing on West Greenlandic and Danish models rather than on the needs or desires of the community (Petersen 1977). In 1963, a municipality system like that in West Greenland was introduced, but the municipalities under the supervision of the Ministry for Greenland in Denmark exercised few real powers. Social and political pressure to achieve greater independence from Denmark led to Home Rule (hjemmestyre) in 1979, with Greenland taking over its own administrative affairs. Self Rule (selfstyre) was granted in 2009 (Petersen 1984; Rud 2017).

The rapid social upheaval experienced throughout Greenland in the second half of the 20th century was perhaps most pronounced in East Greenland. Indeed, shifting from primarily a hunting to a wage-based economy, combined with relocations, physical distance from most seats of power in the country, and discrimination, have all contributed to the ongoing stress experienced by communities on the East Coast, even as they worked to address these challenges. This region also features a high unemployment rate and social issues that include alcohol abuse, child neglect, and many suicides. Substantial economic and social differences remain between East and West Greenland, and the East Greenlandic population has the lowest per capita income in the country (Krogh Andersen 2008). At the same time, during my fieldwork, many Tunumeer expressed feeling politically underrepresented, arguing that political decisions are being made above their heads in the distant power centers of West Greenland. These feelings are even more pronounced since Tasiilaq has been incorporated into Sermersooq municipality.

Tasiilaq accommodates various public institutions, including schools and pre-school establishments, and a hospital. Students from the surrounding villages move to Tasiilaq at the age of 13 for their last two years of primary school. Tasiilaq also hosts Majoriaq, a secondary school for students who have not completed primary school or who need additional qualifications to start a career. For further education or training, young people must either move to Nuuk, another city in West Greenland, or Denmark. Accordingly, many Tunumeer are quite regularly on the move between East and West Greenland, be it for educational reasons or for events related to public sector jobs. Treatment at the hospital in Nuuk is another prominent reason why Tunumeer fly to the West Coast, while taking an airplane for vacations or other recreational purposes—within the country or for travelling abroad—is reserved for the few East Greenlanders with the financial means to do so (Elixhauser 2015).

Kulusuk airport functions as a mini-hub for Tasiilaq, with a 10-minute helicopter flight with Air Greenland that takes passengers to the district capital. Tasiilaq heliport serves the other villages in the district with one to two helicopter flights a week. From Kulusuk, Air Greenland flies to Nuuk once a week in winter and twice a week in summer, and Icelandair operates a regular air service to Keflavik, the Icelandic international airport, between one and five times a week, depending on the season. The Tasiilaq region is popular with tourists, and those arriving by air are supplemented by an increasing number of cruise ships. 3 All helicopter flights on the East Coast run with service contracts. The system of service contracts is based on subsidies by Naalakkersuisut for airlines serving the non-profitable regions to make the tickets cheaper and affordable for people throughout Greenland (Christensen et al. 2020). Nationwide, much hope lies in tourism activities to supplement Greenland’s main revenue (fishing) and to generate the financial means for a desired future independence. National forecasts expect a substantial rise in tourism for East Greenland when the two airports in Nuuk and Ilulissat are completed and a new airport in Tasiilaq becomes a reality (Visit Greenland 2021).

Figure 5

De Havilland DHC-8 aircraft, Kulusuk airport

De Havilland DHC-8 aircraft, Kulusuk airport
Photo by Sophie Elixhauser, May 2023

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Plans and Hopes Regarding a New Airport

Discussions about an airport in Tasiilaq have been ongoing for more than 30 years. In 2011, they became more concrete when the Transport Commission Greenland (2011) recommended this airport, finding it would not only significantly reduce costs related to helicopter transport from Kulusuk but also improve tourist access. A plan to construct five airports in Greenland was drafted in 2014, which included Tasiilaq and Ittoqqortoormiit in East Greenland. As late as 2016, Naalakkersuisut continued to speak about the construction of an airport in Tasiilaq within five years (Nielsen 2016). In 2017, this plan was put on ice, with only the three airport projects in West Greenland being started. Disappointed reports from Tunu appeared in the media, such as the headline in Sermitsiaq, “Det slår folks drømme ihjel” [It kills people’s dreams] (Düwel 2017). In the following years, vague statements were made by government representatives on this topic (e.g., Sermitsiaq 2018). Finally, in June 2022, concrete steps were taken once again when Naalakkersuisut’s Finance Committee released an amount of 2.5 M DKK for new studies to examine the possibilities for the two East Greenlandic airports. At the time of writing this article, these studies are ongoing (Berthelsen 2023; Hyldal 2022).

Different locations for an airport in Tasiilaq have been considered over the years, including a location in a valley behind the town, although now a location closer to town and not far from the current heliport is under discussion. The location in the valley, as Hjørdis Viborg explained, would have required a long road through cracked and rocky terrain, which would have been difficult to maintain in the winter. The discussed length of the runway has also been changing, varying from ca. 800 to 1500 metres. Every couple of years (especially after new elections), planning teams from Naalakkersuisut come to the region to evaluate the issue. As an alternative to a new airport in Tasiilaq, improvements to the runway in Kulusuk and its extension to 1500 metres have also been envisaged (interview H. Viborg, May 2023).

Many Tasiilarmeer (residents of Tasiilaq) place great hope in a new airport. Hope is a key aspect of the anticipation that frames daily life in Greenland, as Nuttall explains, because “hunting and fishing involve not merely procurement, but also anticipating, waiting, hoping, pondering, and imagining the movements of seals, narwhals, fish, and other animals to be caught, as well as anticipation and apprehension of the return home” (2010, 25). I experienced similar practices when accompanying East Greenlandic friends on fishing and hunting trips, encountering “a great awareness of the changeability and instability of the world” (Elixhauser 2018a, 19). Tunumeer do not regard the future as something than can be controlled, which also means that they are highly prepared for uncertainty, disappointment, or even failure. In present-day Greenland, many hopes and ambitions as well as anxieties and resistances are connected to “a broader process of the reimagining of the Arctic as a resource frontier and a space for economic possibility” (Dodds and Nuttall 2017, 151), all of which provides the backbone for the hopes regarding a new central airport in Tasiilaq. Generally speaking, Bryant and Knight (2019) argue that hoping as an orientation to the future always reveals a deficiency or a shortcoming. In contrast to anticipation and expectation grounded in experience, hope often arises “when experience is frustrated” (ibid., 142). “When we hope, we hope for something and in this sense, hope is about change. It is about wishing, believing, focusing on the possibility to actualize potentiality”. (ibid., 141).

This wish for a better future is quite evident in conversations with Tunumeer about the new airport and the possibilities it could offer (cf. Reeves 2017 on “infrastructural hope”). The tourism industry in Tasiilaq also strongly advocates for this construction. As tour operator Line Kristiansen explains:

The tourist operators in the region are ready to expand and serve more guests, but we need the infrastructure and logistics to make it happen. (…) We will get people directly into Tasiilaq from where most of the activities start and there will be one less thing to delay—helicopter or boat from Kulusuk to Tasiilaq.

email communication, May 2023

Considering the time needed to plan and build a new airport, she however suggests to improve Kulusuk airport in the meantime and extend the current runway so larger planes can land and take off. Hjørdis Viborg also gives her full support to a future Tasiilaq airport and sees many advantages and possibilities; however, she is not convinced about the idea of extending Kulusuk runaway as an interim solution. This might prolong the process of getting a new airport, as politicians might argue that they already took care of the East Coast (interview H. Viborg, May 2023).

Justus Hansen, one of the biggest advocates for this project, cites the potential socio-economic benefits. A 1500-metre-long landing strip would allow for larger airplanes to land. Tasiilaq wants more tourism and economic growth, and an airport would have a big effect on unemployment:

We are famous here for our smile, and grateful for every visitor (we don’t want to call them tourists). In our culture, we are curious to meet someone we haven’t met before. We are grounded here, isolated. We have to get closer to the global world. We want this airport. Young people, after education, want to come home.

interview J. Hansen, April 2023

The cruise ship industry would also be interested in the airport, as they would like to build a hub in Tasiilaq. Likewise, a planned fish processing plant in Tasiilaq would strongly benefit from this welcomed infrastructure. According to Justus, this airport would give young people a career perspective and a new positive self-image.

We lose a lot of young people here, who leave. It would be very good to pick up on young people from Majoriaq, etc. On the West Coast, they only focus on the mere costs, not on the human consequences of the project. But what you get out of the airport is as much ‘human’, not only the costs. It’s very hard to define a price for this human component. It is easier to give money to a harbour or something like that, but if it’s people, you cannot set a price. It would make this community a better place, with very positive effects on the social side.

ibid.

In Tasiilaq, regulations are strict regarding new investments. Residents wanting to start a business generally have no possibility of getting a loan. “Many private houses were set on value zero, because Tasiilaq is so remote,” Justus explains (ibid.). He hopes for easier access to loans with a new airport, as the banks would see new business. The East Coast wants to contribute to the state revenue, he further argues, and not only be in need of and receive money. “We want to be proud, a place, not to be the ‘backside’. To have a positive place in the media, not only about suicide, raping, child abuse, etc”. (ibid.).

The remoteness of East Greenland or the “being made remote” thus manifests itself in challenging the financial conditions for starting a new business, and most literally shows in the name Tunu, which means the “backside” of Greenland.

Local museum curator Jonna Klemensen, originally from Narsaq (South Greenland), with whom we collaborated in a recent research project on climate and environmental changes, sees the advantages of having a new airport to connect people from East and West Greenland. Tasiilarmeer could travel more easily to Nuuk, and West Greenlanders could more easily visit the East Coast. Some West Greenlandic passengers, she recounts, would just turn around in Kulusuk when helicopters to Tasiilaq were cancelled, or even fly to another country instead. During the travel restrictions imposed by the COVID-19 pandemic, more West Greenlanders spent their holidays in Tasiilaq (conversation J. Klemensen, April 2023).

The connectivity for the village inhabitants would also improve, adds Justus Hansen. Now villagers must buy two helicopter tickets when travelling from Tunu: one to Tasiilaq and another one to Kulusuk. This is expensive. With an airport in Tasiilaq, the available helicopters could prioritize the needs of both tourists and locals from the villages, Hansen says, referring to the above-mentioned prioritization of the Tasiilaq–Kulusuk connection. After all, with a new airport, ambulance flights could reach the hospitals in Nuuk or Reykjavik much faster (interview J. Hansen, April 2023).

Hence, the residents’ hopes for an improved connectivity encompass different angles, ranging from economic and social aspects to issues of East Greenland’s position within the country and the world at large. Trying to “catch up” with industrialized nations, East Greenlanders’ aspirations for a new airport are also enmeshed with the virtual race for higher levels of performance in our globalized world (Virilio 2006). Harris has well described the tension between the technological advancement of global aviation and the current context in a less-advanced country (in her case Nepal), where “aviation discourses … are often characterized by the language of ‘lagging behind’ or needing to ‘catch up’ with the rest of the world” (2021, 85).

Figure 6

Tasiilaq

Tasiilaq
Photo by Sophie Elixhauser, May 2023

See the list of figures

These feelings of “lagging behind” I know well from listening to Tunumeer. Their hopes for a new airport and a better connectivity are linked to other individual and regional efforts to reduce the remoteness of the region and the feeling of not being recognized. This stands in sharp contrast to other Arctic communities, who actively choose remoteness and vote against transport infrastructure (cf. Schweitzer and Povoroznyuk’s [2019] example from Siberia). In the Tasiilaq region, the lengthy process of discussing and deciding on a new airport—and once again suspending the plan—adds to the long-standing feelings of exclusion, both socio-politically and physically, and may even be understood as “infrastructural violence” (Rodgers and O’Neill 2012). The latter not only includes infrastructure designed to be violent but also a “passive” infrastructural violence, labelled “‘passive’, insofar as the socially harmful effects derive from infrastructure’s limitations and omissions rather than its direct consequences” (ibid., 407), which fits the situation of Tunu quite well.

Concerns about a Future Tasiilaq Airport

While most residents in Tasiilaq and the surrounding villages 4 appear to support the plan, many have also voiced concerns and fears, particularly in Kulusuk. Some Tasiilarmeer are afraid of the vast expenditure of time, effort, and costs that will accompany the construction, or a mass influx of outsiders to the region. For example, Robert Peroni, hotel owner in Tasiilaq, likes the idea of a new airport but argues for an airport with a short runway suitable for small airplanes, at a similar size of those operating at Kulusuk airport, so that the region will not be overrun by tourists (conversation, April 2023). Robert is the only one I have spoken with who sees a danger in too many tourists.

Several residents predict environmental difficulties in constructing an airport in Tasiilaq. A teacher argues that the rocky landscape might need a lot of dynamite to create a long runway. A helicopter pilot thinks that the Tasiilaq mountains will make it hard for planes to land, as it is already sometimes difficult with the mountain behind Kulusuk airport (conversations, April 2023; see Figure 6). An assistant teacher speculates that parts of the mountains around Tasiilaq would have to be removed, which would not pay off for at least 40 years (interview, April 2023). Bendt Abelsen, who was Administration Manager at Kulusuk airport in 2020-23 also sees a problem in the mountains and narrow valleys in Tasiilaq. Like many Kulusumeer (residents of Kulusuk), he advocates for a longer runway in Kulusuk (conversation B. Abelsen, April 2023). An employee of Hotel Kulusuk sees the advantages and disadvantages of both locations. There are less winds and storms in Tasiilaq than in Kulusuk, which is often hit by a neqqajar. Tasiilaq is sheltered through the Sermilik Fjord, which would allow planes from West Greenland to land with greater ease. On the other hand, tarring and extending the Kulusuk runway for jets to land might also be a good option (conversation hotel employee, April 2023). Various concerns are thus related to environmental features and forces, such as mountains, rocks, valleys, and winds, in their interplay with the technological prerequisites for a new airport and the operating airplanes. Some of the residents’ concerns, for example, revolve around the necessary environmental conditions for the landing approach of airplanes operating under visual flight rules.

In Kulusuk, sentiments about a new airport in Tasiilaq are generally not good (see Figure 7). This is quite understandable, given that Kulusuk airport is the main employer for the village. As Kulusumeer Kristine Boassen summarized, in an article in Sermitsiaq, “We face an uncertain future if an airport is built in Tasiilaq… It is not good for us at all” (Nielsen 2016). The one-day tourist business, so important for the island’s local economy, would be deeply affected, and a new airport in Tasiilaq would most certainly lead to a decline in population, with airport workers moving to Tasiilaq. A tourist agent from Kulusuk reacted quite vividly: “I don’t give a shit! Not in my lifetime. … It would destroy the whole community here. People would slowly move away, and not much would stay. Similar to other settlements”. (conversation, April 2023).

Figure 7

Kulusuk

Kulusuk
Photo by Sophie Elixhauser, July 2007

See the list of figures

This tourist agent regards a new airport in Tasiilaq as a threat, relating it to the large-scale resettlement activities that took place in Greenland in the 1950s and 60s when the Danish government forced the relocation of smaller settlements by withdrawing services and infrastructure (Dzik 2015). Even though the legacy of these policies continues to be felt today, they continue on a smaller scale through the closure of infrastructure and services in remote regions. Accordingly, fears about the closure of settlements are still present among Greenlanders, and ideas of closing Kulusuk airport or greatly reducing its function are being understood in this light.

Referring to interviews conducted in Kulusuk in 2017, De Jonghe and Bennett recount that concerning the idea for a new airport in Tasiilaq, many Kulusumeer expressed their impression that the government wished them to move away to Tasiilaq or even farther west (De Jonghe 2022). Hence, while Justus Hansen (interview, April 2023) maintains that even Kulusuk would get its share from an overall increasing tourism with a new airport in Tasiilaq, the inhabitants of Kulusuk are less optimistic. The tourist agent’s response, moreover, illustrates how infrastructures generate emotions and ultimately shows the affective force that accompanies infrastructural interventions (Reeves 2017).

The village of Kulusuk, developed because of the current airport built for Cold War military activities, will most certainly not be among the winners if an airport is constructed in Tasiilaq. In this case, new infrastructure might lead to the exclusion of one, albeit small, part of the East Greenlandic population. Here again, one could speak of infrastructural violence, though in a slightly different way, as this violence would be due to a new (Tasiilaq) airport negatively affecting the community of Kulusuk. Greenland is currently in the process of reconfiguring infrastructural networks to better meet the country’s needs. For this process, the autonomous region is faced with the challenges, De Jonghe argues, to accommodate “the people ‘in between’ who have been transforming colonial and imperial imprints on the landscape into their homes for hundreds of years” (2022, 104).

East Versus West Greenland: Discrimination and Feelings of Exclusion

Having discussed people’s hopes and fears from different angles, I now revisit Bryand and Knight’s (2019) argument that hope is often intertwined with frustration. Frustration and the desire for change are indeed quite evident in the Tasiilaq region. Many residents are frustrated by the negative news about and prejudices towards their community within Greenland and beyond, as the town’s creative and positive developments such as active youth associations or business initiatives receive little attention. Residents are convinced that this also plays out in the low priority given to air traffic to/from East Greenland, and that up to now, no decision regarding a new airport for Tasiilaq has been made. Langgård (1999) has shown that Tunu’s negative image is indeed quite old, commencing long before the high numbers of alcohol and sexual abuse issues became widely known. The author traces it back to the 1880s, when East Greenlanders came to West Greenland to trade and were mentioned negatively in the newspapers due to trouble with the Moravian Mission. Likewise, as Rud (2017) explains, in the wake of colonization, the Danes used East Greenland as a template for Greenland before colonization, with the colonized West Greenlanders set higher on the development ladder than were the “uncivilized” East Greenlanders.

However, the increase in domestic tourists in Tunu, particularly during COVID-19, and a more positive image of the region shared via social media have slowly begun to improve the information West Greenlanders receive about East Greenland, as Jonna Klemensen explains: “Now we have Facebook and things have gotten a little better. There is more communication, including about things that are going well here”. (conversation J. Klemensen, April 2023).

As Abildgaard and his colleagues (2022, 77) describe, online platforms in Greenland play an important role in coping with and overcoming physical and social distance, and communication infrastructure (just as transport infrastructure) is therefore never just a technological phenomenon but may strengthen social connectivity and processes of social inclusion. However, in the case of Tasiilaq, this social inclusion still appears to have a long way to go, and the “myths” about Tunu—as Justus Hansen calls “the negative stories”—sometimes prevent well-educated people from West Greenland from coming to work in Tasiilaq, despite the many incentives, such as paid holidays out of the country. At the same time, he thinks that the costs of the “teams coming to save us”, namely, West Greenlandic initiatives attempting to tackle the social problems on the East Coast, should be better spent on actual investments like new housing (interview J. Hansen, April 2023). These teams can arrive unannounced and have become more numerous after the film Byen hvor børn forsvinder [The town where children disappear] premiered in 2019, picturing a town overwhelmed by sexual assault, child neglect, and suicide. As district manager Hjørdis Viberg explains, the film had disastrous repercussions for Tasiilaq, dividing the community into the people who manage life and those who are not coping well, thus creating differences along lines of status not common in East Greenland. Hjørdis argues that while they sometimes need help and support in Tasiilaq, they would prefer being able to reach out by themselves and not having outsiders define what their needs are (interview J. Viberg, May 2023).

Tunumeer’s attitudes towards the plans for a new airport, as I have illustrated, are influenced by both future imaginaries and aspirations for a better life and historical experiences (Reeves 2017). The latter include the above-mentioned fears of Kulusumeer regarding a possible closure of their village, recalling (post-)colonial experiences of resettlement schemes. People’s hopes for (and fears of) a Tasiilaq airport are embedded within a complex postcolonial situation in Greenland, with the dream of independence and complete self-determination as the ultimate goal (Sejersen 2019). The colonizer, Denmark, historically took over the role as a “protector and introducer of modernity,” and the relationship between Denmark and Greenland has sometimes been described by the metaphor of mother and child (ibid., 7; Gad 2017). Today, as an increasing number of Greenlanders cast a critical eye on the significance of colonization for society and culture in Greenland, Ulunnguaq Markussen, PhD student at Ilisimatusarfik (University of Greenland) speaks of a paradox, as “Greenlanders themselves have become like the Danish colonialists” (in Højsgaard 2023; author’s translation). Criticizing Greenlanders’ attitudes towards East Greenland, she states: “The oppression and marginalization that we have fought for many years to get out of, we are now exposing East Greenlanders to. And it amazes me that we haven’t learned anything from our own history”. (ibid.).

She speaks of bullying, discrimination, and the ethnic marginalization of Tunumeer, and that people’s feeling of powerlessness is the barrier to development. As it was similarly told to me by many residents, Markussen describes the feeling that decisions taken by the central power in Nuuk never consider the local culture on the East Coast (ibid.). This feeling became stronger after Tunu was incorporated into Sermersooq municipality, resulting in greater centralization. Today, many Tunumeer would like to reinstate their own East Greenlandic municipality. Lars Poulsen, an East Greenlandic member of Inatsisartut, is trying to advance this idea on a political level. That said, this wish is not shared by everyone, and the Tasiilaq District Council advocates for more rights to self-determination within Sermersooq, as Hjørdis Viberg explains (interview, May 2023).

In an ongoing trend of urbanization, around 35 percent of the Greenlandic population now lives in Nuuk (Statistics Greenland 2024a), and De Jonghe speaks of an “extremely disproportionate weight within Greenland’s demography and geography” (2022, 67). Nuuk, the center of the self-government and part of the largest municipality in the country, is the heart of political decision making in Greenland. This central role has been criticized by Hermann Berthelsen, the Mayor of Sisimiut, who has argued that self-government shows much more confidence in the opportunities in the “capital municipality” of Sermersooq than it has in the rest of the country (Berthelsen 2016). Tunumeer views of and attitudes towards the potential Tasiilaq airport plans must be considered in light of this feeling of disenfranchisement. Another example for it is the phrasing “an airport for Tasiilaq” used by several of my interlocutors, which sounds like an airport is being given to them from above without their voice or input on the issue. Hence, due to the experienced link between feelings of powerlessness and the continuously suspended airport plans, I believe that one can speak of passive “infrastructural violence” here—as already touched upon above—a violence that arises due to unfulfilled promises that, for various Tunumeer, take the same line as broader processes of social and economic exclusion and discrimination.

Discussion: The Socio-Material Dynamics of Hope and Connectivity

Various “infrastructural hopes” (Reeves 2017) attached to a potential new airport in Tasiilaq relate to a better connectivity, to the world at large, and to the political, economic, and educational centers in West Greenland or even within the Tasiilaq region. The current sense of disconnection and remoteness among Tunumeer goes hand in hand with the described difficulties with air travel, yet this disconnection is to be understood in both a physical and social sense. While a better connectivity is sought for improved travel and transport, tourism development, and various other economic reasons, it is also sought to make the community “a better place” to be able to contribute to the country’s economic and social fabric, and to become a respected part of Greenland, instead of turning towards neighbouring countries, such as Iceland.

For many Tunumeer, an improved air connection between East and West Greenland would be a sign of the Greenlandic self-government’s willingness to invest in the East Coast, and not only in its transport infrastructure in a material sense but also in its social and economic future. As politician Justus Hansen argues, it is not only the material and technological aspects of a new airport that should be considered but also the human and social gains (interview, April 2023). In addition to the hoped-for new jobs and economic upswing, which could counter outmigration, high unemployment, and the many social issues in the region, improved air traffic could provide quick access to hospitals and educational institutions, improve communication between East and West Greenlanders, and reduce prejudices among the latter.

In the Tasiilaq region, specifically, hopes revolve around a reduction of transport difficulties or “mobility inequalities” (Hidayati, Tan, and Yamu 2021) for the residents of the villages (except for Kulusuk). Currently, villagers wanting to travel outside of East Greenland have to buy two helicopter tickets, which is expensive and subject to potential flight cancellations. An airport in Tasiilaq would halve these costs and might also lead to a higher availability of helicopters, as the Tasiilaq–Kulusuk feeder flights would no longer be needed.

All these examples support the argument of Abildgaard and colleagues (2022) that technological expertise is not enough when it comes to infrastructural planning and that it is important to not only listen to community members’ concerns but also integrate social and technological aspects—an approach that I have been following in this article. Abildgaard and colleagues (2022) have therefore developed the concept of “frugal connectivity” based on collaborative work and interdisciplinary dialogue, with the aim of better adapting infrastructural innovations to local contexts to create flexible and well-adapted solutions. Most of the time, the main hindrances to better connectivity do not lie on the technological side, Pirinen and colleagues (2019, 47) note, but rather in the “difficulty to find enough economic incentive and societal responsibility to make things happen in remote, Arctic, and otherwise challenged geographical locations around the globe.” These challenges draw an accurate picture of the situation in Tunu.

This article has shown how ideas for a new airport in Tasiilaq and the associated potential downgrading of Kulusuk airport generate and fuel hopes, fears, and affect among the residents, and that airports—in whatever stage of development—can be called “affective infrastructures” (Reeves 2017). One example of this affect are the disappointed and emotional reports in the Greenlandic press after the plans for the new East Greenlandic airports were dropped in 2017 (e.g., Düwel 2017). Affect and frustration, moreover, accompanied residents’ accounts of experiences of discrimination, a theme sometimes brought forth with the once and again suspended airport plans. Also in line with these examples is the described negative reaction of the Kulusuk tourist agent, when addressing the topic of a potential Tasiilaq airport, whose emotional outburst referred to Greenland’s history of imposed resettlement schemes and village closures.

These cases illustrate that while pointing to the future, airports are deeply connected to historical experiences and past social transformations (Reeves 2017), and that they are being “cared for”, as Ren (2023) describes in a chapter discussing the developments around the close-to-finished new West Greenlandic airports, and the similar situation for Kangerlussuaq community. Kangerlussuaq airport will cease to be the main air hub for Greenland upon the opening of the new Nuuk airport, which means Kangerlussuaq town faces an uncertain future (see also Vanek [unpublished]). These circumstances are somewhat comparable to the unclear situation of Kulusuk, although a decision for a Tasiilaq airport is still pending.

Airports, as we have seen, are able “to hold uncertainty in tension over decades and perhaps, as a permanent state” (Ren 2023, 207), and this long temporal horizon is most obvious when considering the East Greenland case. While I have highlighted various societal processes, I also want to briefly dwell on the material forms and non-human agents involved in the making of infrastructures. Environmental features and forces play an important role in shaping residents’ hopes and fears as well as their reflections about whether or not a new airport in Tasiilaq might be a good thing (Reeves 2017; Bennett 2010). Examples are the mountainous and rocky landscape that may create challenges for constructing an airport, as some Tunumeer fear, or the Arctic weather, such as the pilerngar and neqqajar storms affecting the localities in the region in different ways and often causing flight cancellations. Likewise, technological considerations in airport planning, such as questions about potential airplanes or the length of the runway, are influential factors, some of which play a role in residents’ hopes and fears, as briefly touched upon here.

Speaking about the (un-)making of airports, this process is defined here in a very broad way. Airports are in the making (or unmaking) already before, during, and after the emergence of their concrete material forms. Following Ingold (2007, 2013), I argue that designing, constructing, and employing other processes involved in the making of buildings—I add forms of infrastructure here—are just as important as using, inhabiting, and working alongside them. One cannot draw a clear line between the making and the using, as growth continually unfolds throughout. Hence, though a new airport for the Tasiilaq region is not yet there in its constructed form, and is not even officially decided upon, it has begun to unfold and grow within manifold social and political processes as well as the residents’ and stakeholders’ discussions, affects, hopes, and fears—all of which are closely entangled with the affordances of the technological possibilities and the non-human environment.

Let us revisit what I wrote earlier about the role of hoping in Greenlandic communities and how residents are not only used to regularly dealing with hope and failure during subsistence activities but also show flexibility in adapting to changing futures. The hopes I have sketched in this article are somewhat of a different kind, I shall argue, as they are connected to broader political processes and promises by the Greenlandic self-government, presented, and discussed within the Greenlandic media. These promises have appeared and disappeared more than once, and this for several decades now, while this process speaks directly to wider frustrations and long-lasting forms of discrimination experienced by Tunumeer and is deeply engraved in their collective identity. Only a handful of individuals in East Greenland like to speak up about these issues, such as Justus Hansen, who is well known for being someone who “roars”, as one Tasiilarmeer said to me (conversation, April 2023); in other words, someone who does not hold back in stating his opinion in a loud and direct manner. However, since my very first stay in the region, the feelings of discrimination and exclusion have come up in many conversations with Tunumeer, though they are usually expressed in a rather subtle and quiet manner. As Sejersen (2019, 3) wrote in an article about brokers of hope and the dynamics of future making in post-colonial Greenland:

When brokers use hope and promise, they also work with social inclusion and exclusion and thus engage in processes of social demarcation. Once brokers of hope mobilise an idea of a future-to-come, they also mobilise a future social imaginary, which has a complex relationship to ideas of collective identities. One can say that by producing a ‘future us’, brokers of hope also produce a ‘contemporary us’ (and an idea about how ‘we’ can become).

Various Tasiilarmeer have spoken with me about this “idea of a future-to-come,” about how Tasiilaq could be(come) in terms of its social and physical connectivity, when a new airport ever becomes a reality. I believe that due to this positive imagery and the affect it generates, this potential new airport carries tremendous weight.

This article shows that the Tasiilaq region may be considered remote not only because of its physical distance and poor air connections to the rest of Greenland and beyond but also because it is “made” remote through various socio-political processes (Saxer and Andersson 2019; Schweitzer 2021). Some Tunumeer are convinced that the negative picture of a region made up by its social problems—widespread in West Greenland, Denmark, and beyond—certainly plays a role here, and this one-sided reporting leads to discriminatory practices in political decision making that impede social and economic developments in Tunu. Moreover, the emergence of new business initiatives by East Greenlanders is particularly challenging, caused not only by the low education level on the East Coast but also by the fact that residents are not able to get grants from the bank. Justus Hansen explains the latter by the “remoteness” of Tasiilaq, which has also led to a depreciation of houses owned (interview, April 2023). We are thus dealing with a vicious circle that appears difficult to break. Issues of power, remoteness, and connectivity are closely intertwined, and with most seats of power located in faraway Nuuk, some Tunumeer feel rather powerless, or as Saxer and Andersson write, “‘remotely controlled’ by outside powers” (2019, 144). This remoteness shows quite literally in the name for East Greenland, Tunu, which due to its meaning (“backside”) is not liked by everyone along the East Coast.

The rise of social media, above all Facebook, has improved communication between East and West Greenlanders in some ways, as Jonna Klemensen explained (conversation, April 2023), which may gradually put preconceptions into perspective and reduce prejudices. In Greenland, Facebook is very popular, as 86% of the population have a member profile (Abildgaard et al. 2022). The quick sharing of news and the posting, liking, and commenting of personal stories and images has become an easy and popular way to build and forge old and new ties within Greenland, across the Arctic region, and even the world at large. Drawing from my long participant observations in (East) Greenlandic Facebook circles and groups, I affirm that Facebook has gained in importance in reducing social and physical distance. Facebook in Greenland can thus be called a “frugal infrastructure,” connecting the population “within and across otherwise physically disconnected communities” (ibid., 76). At the same time, many Tunumeer hope that this connectivity might also be possible physically and not only through online platforms.

Hence, an infrastructure project may evoke numerous hopes for some people concerned while being considered a threat for others. The absence of infrastructure, or hitherto unfulfilled promises of a new project, as I have demonstrated, can lead to the exclusion of a region, or can intensify already existing feelings of being excluded and remote (cf. Anand, Gupta, and Appel. 2018). As powerfully described by James Scott (1998), infrastructure projects may reveal the divergencies between centrally managed state plans and local interests and priorities. The “infrastructural power” of the state (Mann 1984) can lead to powerlessness on the part of certain population groups, as in the case of Tasiilaq. Rodgers and O’Neill (2012) have formulated this in a stronger way with the term “infrastructural violence.” For Tasiilaq, with the plans for a new airport frequently being delayed or moved in and out of political agendas, the consequences of not deciding on new infrastructure could be called violent, albeit in a passive way. If violent is too strong a term, one can at least say that combined with other forms of exclusion, it inhibits further social and economic development. In a slightly different way, this “infrastructural violence” can also be applied to the case of the community of Kulusuk, where this plan is viewed as a threat to the continuous existence of the village.

Conclusion and Outlook

This article has shown how aviation infrastructure consists not only of the material and technological infrastructure but is always enabled by and embedded in societal processes. The example of the Tasiilaq region sensitizes us to how the coming-into-being of infrastructural forms is closely entwined with issues of social and physical connectivity while demonstrating how remoteness and connectivity are negotiated, enabled, or at times disabled across physical, geographical, and historical scales. An airport in-the-(un)making emerges as an unruly site or reconfiguration of infrastructural hopes and fears, forms of discrimination and infrastructural violence, emotions and affect, and tangible and intangible cultural, socio-political, spatial, and material entities and realities.

Regarding infrastructural planning, it is of the utmost importance to consider the needs of the communities at stake, the residents’ hopes and fears, and the societal process that gives rise to them. In the case of Tasiilaq, efforts to reduce the remoteness of the region and the feelings of exclusion and powerlessness would be greatly appreciated, be it in the form of a new airport or through other means and measures directed at an empowerment of the East Greenlandic community and a strengthening of Tunumeer’s right to self-determination. Such measures could contribute to a better inclusion of the East Coast in Greenland’s nation-building project and to an enhanced social and economic cohesion within the country.

I now return to the airport planning and conclude with a few words about the future prospects of a better air connection for this community on the Greenlandic East Coast. With the new Nuuk airport and Ilulissat airport close to completion and the ongoing construction of the new airport in Qaqortoq, an airport for Tasiilaq has become more tangible, particularly with the new studies on a concrete concept being undertaken at the time of writing this article. In an interview for Sermitsiaq in June 2022, Greenlandic Prime Minister Múte B. Egede confirmed: “(…) the next tasks are to realize the airports in East Greenland. The projects must be in place. But from the podium, I have to be careful about making promises, as I cannot say where the funds will come from and when they will be in place” (in: Hansen 2022, author’s translation).

Although the funds for the current studies were released by Naalakkersuisut soon after this, in July 2022, there is still a long way to go. After a concept is in place, a planning permit must be allocated before further procedures can begin (ibid.). The big question for the entire project remains funding, as Naalakkersuisut does not want to involve foreign investors.

Furthermore, the current war in Ukraine has instigated new considerations. In an interview for Sermitsiaq, Justus Hansen argues that from Northeast Greenland, the way to Russia is not long and points to the geopolitical importance of a new airport in Tasiilaq (Møller and Hyldal 2022). Recounting the sightings of submarines in East Greenlandic waters, he further proposes the building of a naval base in Tunu. To my knowledge, his suggestion has not led to any further discussions. Moreover, apart from the politicians, for many residents, the war between Ukraine and Russia is something talked about mainly in the media yet seems far away from their immediate life context (despite the actual short distance to Russia). Hence, overall, there is much vagueness as to when the problems with air traffic in the Tasiilaq region will be addressed and whether—and when—a new airport will happen, or other measures taken. Tunumeer are once again left with their hopes, concerns, and the many uncertainties surrounding this project.