The Trump administration’s forceful handling of Venezuela, openly justified as a matter of strategic necessity, has revived an idea many European leaders hoped was safely buried: the notion that the United States should “take” Greenland.
Once again, European capitals responded with familiar language—statements of concern, appeals to international law, and reaffirmations of sovereignty. While understandable, this reflex exposes a deeper weakness. In an era defined by transactional power politics, simply declaring what is illegal does little to shape outcomes. When Europe’s response to raw power is limited to legal objections, it should not be surprised when its influence carries limited weight.
Trump’s statements about “taking” Greenland are not new and, moreover, are not feasible from a legal point of view. Greenland is a self-governing territory within the Kingdom of Denmark, a firm member of NATO, and its sovereignty is backed by international law. There is no legal route for a Venezuelan intervention in the Arctic. However, legality is no guarantee of security, and Europe might be mistaken in assuming it has already reached a stage of moral engagement.
However, the Venezuela experience is not a lesson about legality but about feasibility. “The Trump administration intervenes where it thinks it can exercise control, where the degree of opposition is not too great, and where it lacks alternatives to intervention.” If the European Union feels that it is important to make it impossible for countries such as the US, Russia, China, among others, to even think about forced intervention on Greenland, it needs to focus more on building reality.
Why does Greenland matter so much to Washington?
From Washington’s perspective, Greenland is not symbolic—it is operational. Its position astride the Greenland–Iceland–UK (GIUK) Gap makes it central to monitoring Russian, and potentially Chinese, submarines entering the Atlantic. Early-warning and missile-tracking systems based in Greenland feed directly into US homeland defense architectures.
Beyond traditional military considerations, Greenland is becoming a critical node for satellite command and control, space domain awareness, and secure communications. As rivals develop counter-space and cyber capabilities, Greenland’s geography offers strategic advantages that are increasingly difficult to replicate elsewhere.
This logic underpins why, in June 2025, the Trump administration moved Greenland from US European Command to US Northern Command. This change is part of a recognition that the Arctic region is not a periphery region anymore but a central region in great power rivalry.
Is the Arctic becoming the next frontline of global power rivalry?
The Arctic is steadily progressing from a frozen “periphery to a hotly contested battleground.” Russia has begun to project a “grand” military presence in the High North by “re-opening former Soviet bases, augmenting the number of icebreakers at its disposal, and incorporating Arctic defense into its nuclear deterrence strategy.”
China, on the other hand, has overtly positioned itself as a “near Arctic state,” investing in research stations, infrastructure projects, and long-term resource access in the Arctic region. Both Russia and China continue to advance cooperation along the Northern Sea Route, a joint-use shipping lane that has the potential to radically reshape trade and warfare flow patterns connecting Europe to Asia.
In this context, Greenland is no longer just Denmark’s responsibility—it is a strategic hinge point in an emerging Arctic order.
Has Europe underestimated Greenland’s strategic value?
Europe’s core problem is not that Washington sees Greenland as strategically vital. It is that Europe, for decades, largely failed to do so.
In contrast, Greenland was treated as a political delicacy rather than as a security concern, whose policy may have been manageable in the post-Cold War era but is now increasingly risky. In an era of revived rivalry, territories which are undefended, unevenly integrated, or vulnerable to outside influence are likely to face aggression whatever their sovereignty might imply.
However, there is a shift emerging. European actors now find themselves investing in satellite communication infrastructure in Greenland to minimize their reliance on Norway’s Svalbard. There is an increased focus on Arctic defense expenditure by Denmark, with talks concerning future deployments.
But these steps remain slow, fragmented, and cautious—insufficient for the scale of the challenge.
What would it take to make Greenland truly secure?
What Europe is lacking is not awareness, but will. If one wants to render coercion impossible rather than just illegal, Greenland needs to be visibly defended, deeply integrated in European security planning, and politically anchored within transatlantic cooperation.
That would be a function of a coherent European presence able at the same time to monitor the GIUK Gap, space, and critical infrastructure, and to deny Russia and China further strategic encroachment in the Arctic. This cannot be achieved through episodic engagement or symbolic gestures. It demands a long-term, coordinated commitment.
Paradoxically, such an approach would also be the most effective way to manage relations with the Trump administration.
Can European strength deter American coercion?
Trump is unlikely to be constrained by lectures on international law. But he does respond to strength, clarity, and facts on the ground. A Europe that treats Greenland as central to its own security—rather than as a liability to be diplomatically defended—can redirect Washington’s fixation on acquisition toward cooperation.
Greenland is not for sale. But neither should it be left exposed to a strategic vacuum. If Europe wants to ensure that no one can do to Greenland what the United States did in Venezuela, it must stop relying on rules alone and start building the strategic conditions that make coercion unthinkable.
