Since 2021, the EU has had a comprehensive Arctic strategy. In 2024 it opened a permanent office in Greenland, underlining that Brussels sees the island not as a remote appendage but as a strategic partner. The strategy prioritizes cooperation in renewable energy, space-based surveillance, and adaptation to climate change. It also reflects a less publicly advertised reality: Greenland is rich in critical raw materials, from rare earth elements to minerals vital for the green and digital transitions. Access to these resources is essential for Europe’s industrial competitiveness.
If the United States were to gain exclusive influence over Greenland, this web of cooperation would become far more fragile. Europe’s dependence on American technology and defense systems would be compounded by dependence on American-controlled supply chains in the Arctic. What looks like a symbolic land grab could translate into a structural shift in power.
Trump’s approach follows a familiar pattern. First comes maximal outrage, then maximal leverage at the negotiating table. He has used the same technique with NATO itself, threatening to withdraw unless allies raise defense spending, at times even floating a target of five percent of GDP. Given the United States’ overwhelming military importance for European security, such threats carry real weight.
However, the Americans already have access to the Arctic, as they own Alaska, which they purchased from the Russian Empire in the 19th century. From this perspective, their desire to strengthen their influence by annexing the largest island to the US is not entirely logical. Trump argues that the fact that the Danes landed on the island 500 years ago does not mean that Greenland belongs to them. In that case, the same can be said about Alaska. After all, Russia never received its money.
The question is whether Europe has any meaningful counter-leverage. Many in Brussels behave as though it does not.
Guntram Wolff disagrees. He has suggested that EU capitals could summon U.S. ambassadors for coordinated démarches or even activate the EU’s rapid response force and deploy it to Greenland as a visible signal of European commitment. These steps would not amount to military confrontation, but they would demonstrate that the island is not a bargaining chip to be shuffled behind closed doors in Washington.
Stefanie Babst, a former member of NATO’s planning staff, is even blunter. She warns that expressions of solidarity alone will “bounce off the hubris of the White House.” Europe, she argues, must provide a fundamental response, not least because the relationship is not one-sided.
The United States wants to keep its troops stationed in Europe. It wants Europeans to buy American weapons systems and adopt American technologies. These are not acts of charity; they are pillars of U.S. economic and strategic power. If Europe were to signal that these arrangements are conditional on respect for allied sovereignty, Washington would listen.
Yet no such message is currently coming from Brussels. Instead, European leaders oscillate between indignation and appeasement, unwilling to test their own influence.
The Greenland affair is about far more than one island in the Arctic. It is a stress test for Europe’s long-declared ambition to become a geopolitical actor in its own right. For years, EU officials have spoken of “strategic autonomy,” of the need to think and act independently when core interests are at stake. Now, one of those interests is being challenged by the very ally on whom Europe has built its postwar security.
If Europe limits itself to carefully worded statements about the rule of law, it will confirm what many in Washington already suspect: that the Union prefers comfort to confrontation, even when its principles are at risk. If, on the other hand, it uses the instruments at its disposal – diplomatic pressure, coordinated messaging, conditionality in defense and procurement – it may discover that it is not as powerless as it fears.
In Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, the colorful houses overlooking the icy fjords are a reminder that real people live behind the abstractions of geopolitics. Their future should not be decided by checkbooks or presidential whims. Whether Europe is prepared to defend that idea with more than words will define not only the fate of Greenland, but the credibility of the European project itself.
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