Wittingly or unwittingly, United Airlines gave Donald Trump a birthday present that more than made up for the lackluster army parade put on by Pete Hegseth. On June 14, the day Trump turned 79, the US carrier launched its inaugural flight from Newark to Nuuk, the capital of Greenland — a rugged Arctic expanse possessing vast mineral wealth, stark beauty and huge strategic significance. The possibility that the timing may have been entirely coincidental did nothing to detract from the political symbolism of United’s commercial aviation milestone.
By connecting the US to Greenland, which Trump has vowed to annex “one way or another,” its flight demystified the Arctic island for ordinary Americans. Greenland is not some inaccessible fantasyland. It is, in fact, closer to New York than it is to Denmark, which colonized Greenland in the 18th century. The preservation of Danish sovereignty over Greenland has now become a matter of honor for European leaders exasperated by Trump’s menacing taunts.
The United Airlines flight to Nuuk was followed, a day later, by an aircraft carrying Emmanuel Macron. “The situation in Greenland is clearly a wake-up call for all Europeans,” the French president declared in the presence of Danish and Greenlandic leaders. Macron described the threat to Greenland as a warning for all Europe.
But why, in the first place, does Trump covet this piece of Arctic real estate? His interest in Greenland — he offered to buy it in his first term — is animated by an obsession with the rewards of owning it. Situated between North America and Europe, Greenland is a linchpin for monitoring Russian missile launches and naval movements through the Greenland-Iceland-UK gap, a vital Atlantic choke point. The biggest military installation there, the Cold War-era Pituffik Space Base, is already owned by the US. Security, however, is one aspect of Trump’s fixation. The president is also drawn to the overabundant natural resources — from precious minerals to an estimated 17.5 billion barrels of oil and 148 trillion cubic feet of natural gas — that Greenland, citing climate change, refuses to exploit.
Lest anybody doubt his intent to take Greenland, Trump dispatched his vice president to the island in March. JD Vance excoriated Denmark for failing to keep Greenland safe, criticized its stewardship and pitched American control as an opportunity for the locals. His trip was followed by leaks of White House plans to move Greenland’s oversight from US European Command to Northern Command, framing it as integral to American, not European, defense.
Greenland’s history with Denmark could potentially bolster Trump’s efforts. Colonized in the 18th century, it was a Danish possession until 1953, when it was integrated into the Kingdom of Denmark. Home rule came in 1979, and it was not until 2009 that the Self-Government Act granted expanded autonomy to the locals over their domestic affairs.
Copenhagen still controls foreign policy and defense. Greenlanders — overwhelmingly descended from Inuit populations that migrated from North America in the 1200s — chafe under Danish control, and many favor independence. What keeps them tethered to Denmark are the subsidies that finance half their budget. Greenlanders are technically allowed an independence referendum, but it is subject to Danish approval — a sticking point for leaders who aspire to self-rule.
Trump’s pressure has barely scratched the surface of this tension. Dr. Elizabeth Buchanan, a senior fellow at the Australian Strategic Policy Institute and a fellow at the Modern War Institute at West Point Military Academy, says that the “US has not engaged in emotional warfare yet.” Officials in the Trump administration could profit from reading her forthcoming book, “So You Want to Own Greenland: Lessons from Vikings to Trump,” which explains the contest for Greenland without omitting the perspective of the Greenlanders.
“Strategically picking at the wounds of Danish colonial politics and [its] abhorrent generational effects” on Greenland has not yet begun, she notes. For all its lofty rhetoric, Denmark is not holding on to Greenland for the benefit of the Greenlanders. The island, as Dr Buchanan notes, is a source of “strategic wealth” for Denmark; without it, Copenhagen would be measurably worse off.
None of this means Greenlanders are desperate to be governed from Washington. Privately, officials in the local government enumerate the benefits of being subsumed into the United States. But shaped by a history of being the objects of great power competition, they are wary of swapping one foreign overlord for another. What they most want, as a Nuuk-based historian told me, is to “experience true freedom, real sovereignty.” Even those who are open to the idea of a union with the United States are put off by the way President Trump has gone about it.
A Greenlandic academic put it acidly: “Trump is interested in Greenland. He doesn’t give a f–k about Greenlanders.”
Denmark is no saint among nations — it was an ugly imperial power that oppressed Greenland’s natives and maintained colonies from the Americas to India — and its florid proclamations about the sanctity of sovereignty are somewhat undermined by its recent history of enthusiastic participation in the 2003 invasion of Iraq as part of George W. Bush’s “coalition of the willing.”
But it is also this very association that makes the rift between Washington and Copenhagen so surreal. A NATO member since 1949, Denmark has fought alongside America in Baghdad and Afghanistan, while hosting US forces at Pituffik since 1941. Together, the two countries blocked a Chinese bid for a Greenland naval base in 2017. But this partnership, a NATO bedrock forged in trust and prized by successive American administrations, is rapidly unravelling under Trump. Greenlanders are again caught in the crossfire of conflict between big powers.
The spectacle of the US threatening annexation in Europe is staggering to those who grew up under the umbrella of American protection. Since 1945, Washington has championed sovereignty and alliances on the continent, not territorial grabs. European leaders are livid.
Macron’s visit in June was a calibrated demonstration of “European unity” against Trump’s designs. Even Macron’s political rivals endorse his action. Greenland’s defense “must concern all Europeans,” says André Rougé, a member of the European Parliament and a leading light of the nationalist Rassemblement National. Rougé is keen to emphasize that this issue “transcends partisan divides” in France.
Macron is the last great liberal politician on the continent — a man who, for all his flashes of hubris and impulsiveness, has a profound understanding of the perils facing Europe. But will he really race to defend Denmark’s territorial integrity if Trump decides to seize Greenland? “Let me tell you very directly that you’re not alone,” Macron assured Danes and Greenlanders. This was a well-intentioned platitude. In truth, all the noise about solidarity can scarcely conceal the fact that NATO was audibly silent about Greenland at its annual summit last month at The Hague. “The sheer effort to tell the world ‘everything is fine’ points to the fact that NATO will avoid at all costs any issues that undermine the precious veneer of resolve and unity it currently has,” says Dr. Buchanan.
Picture a scenario in which Denmark, facing an invasion by US troops, triggers Article 5 — the mechanism meant to compel NATO members to mobilize a collective defense of an ally under attack. What then? NATO, predicated on mutual defense, will be confronted with an intra-alliance conflict.
This is not novel — Turkey and Greece have fought in Cyprus.
But a war of annexation waged against a NATO member by the United States, the alliance’s anchor, would be unprecedented. NATO members will for the most part urge de-escalation. Some states may be tempted to put on a show of token support for Denmark. But there will be no serious “military intervention” against America, says Professor Jeremy Black, a prolific historian of Europe. Instead, any coercive US action against Greenland will destroy the very idea of “being allied to America.”
The post-war order will face certain ruin. The taboo against aligning with Russia and China will be impossible to sustain. Beijing may come to be regarded as a potential reinforcer of European security and some states may forge open alliances with Moscow and Beijing. Washington will gain Greenland, along with the resentment of its people for being snatched by force. It will permanently squander its already diminishing dominance in Europe and the world.
Trump’s craving for Greenland is not without precedent: The US sought to purchase the island on at least two occasions in the 20th century. What is different today is that America already enjoys primacy in Greenland through its military base and pacts with Denmark, a longstanding ally of Washington. Minerals and shipping lanes are eminently negotiable without the use force. Annexation would alienate Greenlanders, most of whom demonstrated their contempt for the idea of US rule by boycotting Vance during his March visit. Governing a hostile population would drain, not gain, resources.
Trump’s claim that for American security “we can’t” do without Greenland ignores reality: America already “has” Greenland. And anything else it wants is achievable, within reason, through conversation, not conquest. Greenlanders are eager to deepen their relationship with the US — as friends, not subjects.
