When you think of the polar regions, you might picture penguins perched on icebergs or polar bears striding across vast sheets of ice – immense white and blue landscapes home to a limited number of species in sometimes incredible abundance. They are complex ecosystems distinctly characterised by their wild, untouched beauty.

Among these images of thriving wildlife and untamed landscapes, new figures have joined – dressed in sturdy shell jackets, thick insulated boots and looking like cosy bundles wrapped in many layers with cameras at the ready. Alongside them I join as an expedition guide, similarly bundled up, distinguished by the extra gadgets and gear, and my favourite conservation stories ready to share. We try to soak it all in, but our eyes aren’t big enough to take in the surroundings. Few experiences rival the awe inspired by these icy regions, and each season welcomes more visitors to share in this experience. 

For many, a visit provides a unique setting for education, admiration and connection to the wild. These regions create an opportunity to reflect on the fragility of the Earth and cultivate a deeper appreciation for conservation. Alongside this awe and opportunity is a quieter, more complicated truth – each step onto the ice leaves an imprint within an ecosystem already under strain. I remember vividly, learning the careful steps to set up a rifle – a sobering yet essential practice in the Arctic to ensure safety around polar bears should we ever find ourselves too close.

I watched in the Antarctic as the penguins slowed their navigation because human footprints had turned the snow to mush. In these moments the contradiction between experiencing these landscapes and the desire to protect them is unavoidable, a particularly concerning reality during a time of exacerbating environmental degradation. Yet, what keeps me and many others returning are the moments of connection each experience offers. Each encounter in the wild invites wonder, a reminder that connection can evoke protection. As global environmental concerns stack like precariously balanced stones, the inherent conflict associated with the polar tourism industry becomes pertinent: is it a part of the problem or solution?

For those of us who stand on the ice, the question of problem or solution is not just theoretical – it asks us to decide how we would like to move forward.

So, what could moving forward look like? I’ve heard the idea arise that protecting these landscapes could mean restricting human footprints. It’s a vision that holds a certain appeal – perhaps it’s ideal, preserving these places, untouched, feels instinctively right. It would address the use of resources, pollution, emissions, and the increased presence of humans. Environmentally, this seems like the clearest path, but often sustainability is a careful balance between environmental, social, and economic considerations. When these all factors are considered, the path becomes less certain. Each season I hear guides, researchers and visitors grapple with many questions surrounding this: Who gets to experience these places if access is restricted and who gets to decide this? Is it fair to say that only scientists, or those with the right credentials, can set foot on these landscapes? Does limiting access privilege certain voices? How would this impact the livelihoods of those who are now intertwined in the industry?

Even if a vision is agreed upon, the time required to make these decisions, or to campaign for such protections is a question. All the while, the ice continues to melt. When time, effort, and practical and ethical complexities of achieving this are considered, I feel a difficult question is raised: Would restricting footprints offer the greatest protection, or could focusing on this path delay more urgent, meaningful change?

Perhaps another path forward is in not viewing protection and experience as opposing forces but exploring them as elements capable of strengthening each other. This could mean supporting the industry to amplify its positive impact, guiding it to reduce harm and maximising its power to inspire. There could be an opportunity to unlock the industry’s incredible potential as a force for conservation. There are already glimpses of this potential – ships doubling as platforms for research, plastic being pulled out of the ocean, images and stories reaching those who may never see these places firsthand, awareness being raised for critical environmental issues, conservation funds being raised on journeys. In a time when action is urgent, the best path is usually not perfect, but possible. The pursuit of better can be powerful. Perhaps the most meaningful progress lies not in resisting the tide, but in learning to steer it.

With this potential, it is important to acknowledge that the path of progress is not without its risks. How far can this potential truly go? Could taking the path to empower the industry drive protection or might this pursuit instead accelerate harm? The industry has a range of companies and people choosing to make the journey down, all with different intentions. Each holds a potential for positive change – or to exploit. The way polar regions are viewed – by companies, marketing, social media – shapes the desire to visit and in turn the way that it is valued. As much as it’s an opportunity to appreciate nature it is also an ultimate bucket list adventure, a photographer’s dream, the chance to ski without the crowds, to follow in the footsteps of past explorers, or a hook for social media. Choosing to empower the industry carries hope for protection, but it also carries the risks that these regions will become valued more as something to be consumed rather than conserved. 

Perhaps the question is not whether it is a problem or a solution, framing it this way may be too narrow. Polar tourism stands as a reminder that modern conservation rarely offers simple answers. The contradiction in the polar regions is not unique, perhaps though, it is viewed with more gravity due to the views of a pristine and comparably unexplored part of the world. It hints at a larger conversation on how tourism could evolve into the future. With the continued growth of the industry, polar tourism stands at a critical crossroads, one where it can either support positive change for the environment, or can risk accelerating harm.