Nord Stream pipelines sabotage

Based on Wikipedia: Nord Stream pipelines sabotage

The Explosions That Changed European Energy Forever

In the early morning hours of September 26, 2022, seismometers across northern Europe picked up something strange. At 2:03 AM local time, a sensor on the Danish island of Bornholm recorded a magnitude 2.3 tremor. Seventeen hours later, at 7:03 PM, another tremor registered at magnitude 2.1. These weren't earthquakes. The signals had a distinctive signature that geologists recognized immediately: underwater explosions.

What had just been destroyed were three of the four pipes comprising the Nord Stream pipeline system—massive underwater arteries designed to pump Russian natural gas directly into the heart of Europe. Within hours, the Baltic Sea was churning with escaping methane, creating surface disturbances a kilometer wide. It was the largest act of energy infrastructure sabotage in modern history.

And nearly three years later, we still don't have a complete picture of who did it.

Understanding What Nord Stream Actually Was

To grasp why this matters, you need to understand what these pipelines represented. Nord Stream wasn't just one pipeline but two separate systems: Nord Stream 1, which had been operational since 2011, and Nord Stream 2, completed in 2021 but never actually put into service.

Each system consisted of two parallel pipes running along the bottom of the Baltic Sea, connecting Russia directly to Germany while bypassing all the countries in between—Poland, Ukraine, the Baltic states. That bypass was the point. Russia could deliver gas to its biggest European customer without depending on transit countries that might have political objections or extract transit fees.

The engineering was remarkable. Each pipe measured about 1,200 millimeters in diameter—roughly four feet across—with steel walls between 27 and 41 millimeters thick. Because steel pipes naturally want to float when filled with gas, each section was encased in a layer of concrete 60 to 110 millimeters thick to weigh it down. The entire system was assembled from about 100,000 individual pipe sections, each weighing 24 tonnes, welded together and laid on the seabed at depths ranging from 80 to 110 meters.

These weren't fragile structures. A 2019 environmental assessment had considered the possibility of damage from accidents—say, a sinking ship striking the pipeline—but concluded that even the worst-case scenario would produce only a modest leak. Military-type attacks were deemed "very unlikely."

That assessment aged poorly.

The Geopolitical Backdrop

By September 2022, the pipelines had become symbols of a larger conflict. Russia had invaded Ukraine seven months earlier, and Europe was scrambling to reduce its dependence on Russian energy. In 2021, Russia had supplied roughly 45 percent of all natural gas imported by European Union countries. That dependence gave Moscow enormous leverage.

The United States had opposed Nord Stream 2 from the beginning. In 2019, President Donald Trump warned that the new pipeline could turn Europe into a "hostage of Russia" and imposed sanctions on companies helping to complete it. When Joe Biden took office, he initially maintained that opposition, calling out the pipeline's potential to increase Russian influence. But in 2021, his administration lifted the sanctions, citing the need to maintain good relations with Germany and other European allies.

The pipeline was completed in September 2021. It never delivered a single cubic meter of gas to paying customers.

Germany suspended the certification process for Nord Stream 2 on February 22, 2022—two days before Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine began. The suspension came after Russia officially recognized the breakaway regions of Donetsk and Luhansk in eastern Ukraine, a diplomatic provocation that made approval politically impossible.

Meanwhile, Nord Stream 1, which had been operating for over a decade, was gradually throttled. Russia reduced flows throughout the summer of 2022, citing various maintenance issues that European officials dismissed as pretexts. On August 31, 2022, Gazprom—the Russian state-controlled gas company that majority-owned both pipelines—shut down Nord Stream 1 entirely, claiming more maintenance was needed.

So when the explosions occurred on September 26, neither pipeline was actually delivering gas. But both were still pressurized. Nord Stream 2 alone contained somewhere between 150 million and 300 million cubic meters of natural gas, compressed to over 100 times atmospheric pressure. All that gas was waiting, in case political circumstances ever allowed the taps to be turned back on.

The sabotage ensured they never would be.

What the Explosions Did

The damage was extensive. In the Swedish exclusive economic zone, investigators found two artificial craters on the seabed, each three to five meters deep, located about 248 meters apart. Pipeline debris was scattered up to 250 meters from the explosion sites.

Underwater footage obtained months later by a consortium of European media outlets showed the destruction in detail. At the southernmost sabotage site, the steel pipe had been cleanly severed, with the two separated ends sitting five meters apart in a large crater. The cut was remarkably clean—almost surgical—except for a small indentation.

Demolitions experts who analyzed the footage disagreed about exactly what kind of explosives were used. One former Danish military demolitions specialist argued that the clean cut indicated a shaped charge—a type of explosive designed to focus its energy in a specific direction—using just a few kilograms of high-velocity explosives. Others, including an expert from the Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, calculated that each of the four explosions required 300 to 400 kilograms of C-4, a powerful plastic explosive favored by military forces worldwide.

The discrepancy matters because it suggests very different operational requirements. A few kilograms of shaped charges could potentially be placed by divers operating from a small vessel. Hundreds of kilograms of C-4 would require more substantial logistics—possibly a submarine or a larger ship with specialized equipment.

Denmark and Sweden jointly informed the United Nations Security Council that the leaks were caused by "at least two detonations" involving "several hundred kilos" of explosives. German investigators, examining photos taken by federal police with naval support, documented a rupture eight meters long—damage they concluded could only have resulted from explosives.

The Investigations That Went Nowhere

Three countries launched investigations: Germany, Sweden, and Denmark. From the beginning, coordination proved difficult.

Germany proposed forming a joint investigation team, an idea announced by Interior Minister Nancy Faeser on October 2, 2022. Sweden rejected the proposal two weeks later, citing concerns about sharing information related to national security. Denmark reportedly rejected it as well.

Russia demanded to participate in the investigations, summoning German, Danish, and Swedish diplomats to express "bewilderment" at being excluded. Moscow announced it would not recognize any "pseudo-results" produced without Russian involvement. The three investigating countries declined Russia's participation and told Moscow to conduct its own investigation if it wished.

Russia then asked the United Nations Security Council to authorize an international investigation. The request failed, receiving only three votes in favor out of fifteen council members.

The Swedish and Danish investigations both closed in February 2024 without publicly identifying those responsible. Only Germany's investigation continued.

The Ukrainian Connection

In August 2024, German authorities issued European arrest warrants for suspects they believed were involved. The investigation had reportedly identified seven suspects, including former members of a private diving school in Kyiv. One of those suspects had died.

On August 21, 2025, Italian police arrested a Ukrainian man suspected of involvement in the sabotage. Then, on September 30, 2025, Polish police arrested another Ukrainian near Warsaw—someone who had apparently evaded capture since the previous August.

But the Polish arrest led to an unexpected conclusion. In October 2025, a Polish court denied Germany's extradition request, and the suspect was released.

The court's reasoning hasn't been fully disclosed, but the decision highlights the political complexity surrounding the case. Poland has been among Ukraine's strongest supporters in its war against Russia. Extraditing a Ukrainian citizen to face charges for destroying Russian infrastructure—infrastructure that had been a tool of Russian influence over Europe—would put Poland in an awkward position.

The Timing That Raised Eyebrows

Several details about the timing of the explosions have fueled speculation ever since.

The sabotage occurred just one day before Poland and Norway inaugurated the Baltic Pipe, a new pipeline designed to bring Norwegian gas through Denmark to Poland. The Baltic Pipe represented exactly the kind of diversification away from Russian energy that Western leaders had been advocating. Its opening ceremony would have been a celebratory moment—and the Nord Stream explosions dominated the news instead.

Swedish Navy vessels had patrolled the area around the explosion sites just days before the attack. An analysis of ship tracking data showed Swedish naval vessels in the area on September 21 and 22—four to five days before the sabotage. The Swedish Navy confirmed its ships had been there but declined to explain why. During the night of the actual explosions, no Swedish vessels were in the area.

Then there were the statements from American officials. On February 7, 2022—weeks before Russia's invasion—President Biden held a joint press conference with German Chancellor Olaf Scholz. When asked about Nord Stream 2, Biden said: "If Russia invades, that means tanks or troops crossing the border of Ukraine again, then there will be no longer a Nord Stream 2. We will bring an end to it."

A reporter followed up: "But how will you do that exactly, since the project and control of the project is within Germany's control?"

Biden replied: "We will—I promise you, we will be able to do it."

Two days later, Germany suspended Nord Stream 2's certification. Seven months after that, the pipelines were destroyed.

American officials have denied any involvement in the sabotage. The Biden administration's earlier statements referred to blocking the pipeline through diplomatic and economic pressure, not physical destruction—and indeed, Germany's suspension of certification had already effectively killed Nord Stream 2 before a single explosion occurred.

What the Methane Did to the Atmosphere

Beyond the geopolitical implications, the sabotage had an immediate environmental impact. Natural gas is primarily methane, a greenhouse gas roughly 80 times more potent than carbon dioxide over a 20-year timeframe. When the pipelines ruptured, somewhere between 150 million and 300 million cubic meters of methane—the contents of Nord Stream 2 alone—began bubbling up through the Baltic Sea.

The Danish Defense Ministry released video footage showing the scale of the leaks. The largest created a zone of turbulence on the water's surface approximately one kilometer in diameter. Even the smallest leak produced a churning circle about 200 meters across. These were far larger than any technical leak scenario that engineers had ever planned for.

Danish authorities established a five-nautical-mile exclusion zone around the leak sites, warning all vessels to stay away. Aircraft were advised to remain at least 1,000 meters above the area. The concern wasn't just navigation safety—concentrated methane can be explosive when mixed with air in the right proportions, and the massive gas plumes created genuine hazards.

By October 1, the pressure inside Nord Stream 2 had stabilized, indicating that particular pipeline had finished venting. The Nord Stream 1 pipes took slightly longer, but by October 2, Danish authorities reported that all leakage had essentially stopped. The pipelines were empty, flooded with seawater, and would never operate again.

The Question That Remains

More than three years after the explosions, the fundamental question remains unanswered in any official capacity: who destroyed the Nord Stream pipelines?

The evidence points toward Ukrainian involvement, with German investigators identifying suspects connected to a diving school in Kyiv. But many questions persist. Did the Ukrainian government authorize the operation? If so, at what level? Were other countries aware in advance? Did anyone provide assistance?

The suspects identified so far appear to be individuals with diving expertise rather than high-ranking officials. This could mean the operation was carried out by a small group acting with limited state involvement. Or it could mean the investigation has only uncovered the operational level of a mission authorized much higher up.

Ukraine has consistently denied involvement. Russia has blamed the United States and United Kingdom. American and British officials have rejected those accusations. Germany, Sweden, and Denmark have declined to publicly assign responsibility despite conducting investigations for years.

The Polish court's refusal to extradite a suspect to Germany suggests that even within the Western alliance, there may be reluctance to pursue the case to its conclusion. Whatever the truth, exposing it fully could create diplomatic complications that European governments might prefer to avoid.

The Infrastructure That Defined an Era

The Nord Stream pipelines represented a particular vision of European-Russian relations—one in which economic interdependence would create stability and mutual benefit. Germany, in particular, had bet heavily on this vision, building its industrial economy around access to cheap Russian gas while simultaneously phasing out nuclear power.

That vision died before the pipelines did. Russia's invasion of Ukraine made clear that economic ties wouldn't prevent military aggression. Germany's suspension of Nord Stream 2's certification in February 2022 acknowledged this reality. Gazprom's shutdown of Nord Stream 1 in August 2022 demonstrated that Russia was willing to weaponize energy supplies regardless of contract obligations.

By the time someone planted explosives on the Baltic Sea floor, the pipelines were already relics of a relationship that had collapsed. They weren't delivering gas and weren't likely to again. Their destruction was less an act that changed the course of events than an emphatic punctuation mark on a sentence that had already been written.

But infrastructure has a way of outlasting the political circumstances that created it. Without the sabotage, the pipelines would have remained in place, a latent possibility. Some future German government, facing some future energy crisis, might have found reasons to turn the taps back on. Some future Russian leader might have offered concessions that made reconciliation thinkable.

The explosions foreclosed those possibilities. They transformed a suspended project into a destroyed one, a dormant capability into a debris field. Whatever happens in the decades to come, Europe and Russia will not be reconnected through Nord Stream.

Whether that outcome serves the interests of justice, security, or stability depends entirely on whose interests you're counting—and on events that haven't happened yet.