The U.S. President’s interest in Greenland is as much about blocking Chinese and Russian advances as it is about acquiring a new American outpost.
On a frosty evening in 2019, Donald Trump, in his first term as U.S. President, had stunned the world by floating an outlandish idea: the United States should buy Greenland. The proposition was dismissed as a characteristic flight of fancy, yet another entry in the former president’s long list of unconventional diplomatic overtures. Denmark, Greenland’s sovereign overseer, had responded with incredulity. Now, in his second term, the Arctic Island is back on his radar.
Trump’s motivations extend beyond historical precedent. For he is neither the first American president to consider such a move nor the last to see the mineral-rich Arctic Island as a prize worth pursuing. Greenland represents an opportunity for the United States to assert dominance in the Arctic, counter China and Russia, and reshape the balance of power in the North Atlantic.
Though home to just 56,000 people, its geopolitical significance far outweighs its population. For centuries, Greenland was under the sway of Norway and later Denmark. In 2009, it attained self-rule, but Copenhagen still controls its foreign policy and defence. America’s interest in Greenland is hardly new. During the Second World War, the U.S. established military bases there to fend off Nazi incursions, and in 1946, President Harry Truman floated the idea of purchasing it for $100 million in gold. Denmark declined. Today, Greenland’s appeal lies in its vast, untapped natural resources - gold, iron, uranium, platinum and rare earth metals - many of which have become increasingly accessible due to climate change-induced ice melt.
At the heart of Trump’s Arctic calculus lies a complex geopolitical web involving Denmark, Russia, China, and the indigenous Greenlandic population. Denmark, despite its dismissive rhetoric, has reason to worry as Greenland is a financial burden. Copenhagen provides the island with an annual subsidy of roughly $600 million, covering healthcare, infrastructure and public services. Some Greenlanders, eager for greater economic independence, have shown interest in stronger ties with Washington. The United States, for its part, already has a foothold on the island in form of Thule Air Base - America’s northernmost military installation and a key Arctic outpost since the Cold War.
When Trump first made headlines with his Greenland gambit in 2019, the Danish government had scoffed at him. Undeterred, Trump continued to press the matter, framing it as a strategic necessity rather than a mere real estate deal. His approach to foreign policy has often mirrored Theodore Roosevelt’s famous dictum: “Speak softly and carry a big stick.” But Trump has never been one for soft speaking and has wielded the big stick with theatrical flair.
Yet any American attempt to increase its influence over Greenland faces significant obstacles. European leaders are staunchly opposed to the idea of selling off sovereign territory, and China and Russia are keeping a close watch. Russia, in particular, has been expanding its military presence in the Arctic, reopening Soviet-era bases and asserting territorial claims over the resource-rich seabed. China, though lacking an Arctic border, has declared itself a “near-Arctic state” and has invested heavily in infrastructure projects, eyeing the island’s rare earth deposits for its technological supply chains. Trump’s interest in Greenland, therefore, is as much about blocking Chinese and Russian advances as it is about acquiring a new American outpost.
Several potential scenarios emerge. The first is that Greenland remains as it is, autonomous but still under Danish control, continuing to receive subsidies while gradually developing its resource sector. The second is full independence, an option that has gained traction among some Greenlandic politicians. But independence without economic sustainability is a precarious proposition, and any move in that direction would likely force Greenland to seek new financial backers.
A third possibility, and one that Trump seems to favour, is a closer alignment between Greenland and Washington, possibly through an economic partnership, security agreement or even some form of territorial integration. Trump, ever the dealmaker, has hinted that Greenland’s future could be shaped by financial incentives.
The fourth and most extreme scenario - one that belongs more in the realm of fantasy than reality - is military intervention. Some of Trump’s more hawkish advisors may believe that the presence of U.S. troops in Greenland, combined with economic leverage, could tilt the balance of power away from Denmark. But such an approach would be both reckless and unnecessary. America already has a military footprint on the island, and Denmark, a NATO ally, is unlikely to provoke a crisis over Greenland’s status.
Beneath all the strategic shenanigans lies a more fundamental question: Who should determine Greenland’s future? Trump’s rhetoric suggests that he views the island primarily as a geopolitical asset. Greenlanders themselves remain divided. While some support greater economic engagement with the United States, others fear that American influence would erode their cultural and political identity. If Greenland were ever to shift away from Denmark, the decision should come through a democratic process, not a backroom deal.
As climate change accelerates, the Arctic will become an even more critical arena for great power competition. Any American ambitions in the Arctic must respect both the geopolitical realities and the will of Greenland’s inhabitants. The question is not if Washington will deepen its Arctic footprint, but how, and at what cost.
(The author is a researcher and expert in foreign affairs. Views personal.)
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