Greenland, the world’s largest island and a semi-autonomous territory of Denmark, has suddenly found itself at the center of a geopolitical firestorm. Over the past week, former President Donald Trump has revived his controversial campaign to annex Greenland, a move that has sent shockwaves through European capitals, rattled NATO, and set off a wave of anxiety among Greenlanders and Danes alike.
On January 4, 2026, Trump once again floated the idea of making Greenland part of the United States, telling reporters, “we need Greenland from the standpoint of national security.” According to BBC, Trump has repeatedly cited the island’s strategic location in the Arctic and its rich mineral resources as reasons for the annexation. The former president’s comments came just days after a dramatic U.S. military operation in Venezuela, where American forces captured President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, whisking them away to New York. The swift action in South America, which Trump described as “running” Venezuela and allowing U.S. oil companies to profit, has only heightened concerns in Europe that the White House might be willing to use force to achieve its aims elsewhere—including in Greenland.
The Danish reaction was swift and unequivocal. Greenland’s Prime Minister Jens Frederik Nielsen declared, “that’s enough now,” calling the notion of U.S. control a “fantasy.” He demanded, “No more pressure. No more insinuations. No more fantasies of annexation. We are open to dialogue. We are open to discussions. But this must happen through the proper channels and with respect for international law.” Denmark’s Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen was equally blunt, stating, “the US has no right to annex any of the three nations in the Danish kingdom.” She reminded the world that Denmark—and therefore Greenland—is protected by NATO’s security guarantee, and noted that a defense agreement already allows the U.S. military access to the island.
The diplomatic spat escalated after Katie Miller, wife of Trump’s senior aide Stephen Miller, posted a map of Greenland colored in the American flag with the caption “SOON.” The post, which quickly went viral, angered Danish officials and prompted the Danish ambassador to the U.S. to issue a “friendly reminder” that Denmark expects respect for its territorial integrity. According to Fox News, Stephen Miller later defended the administration’s stance, arguing that “the United States should be the nation that has Greenland as part of our overall security apparatus.” Miller questioned Denmark’s claim to the island, citing its small population of 30,000 (though official figures put it closer to 56,000), and insisted that acquiring Greenland would serve the best interests of NATO and the Arctic region. When pressed on whether military action was on the table, Miller scoffed, saying, “Nobody’s going to fight the United States militarily over the future of Greenland.”
Yet, the prospect of a forced annexation is not being taken lightly in Copenhagen or elsewhere in Europe. Danish officials and security experts, according to The Atlantic, have openly considered the possibility that Trump might attempt to seize Greenland by force, through coercion, or by buying off local support. These fears, once dismissed as far-fetched, have become more pronounced following the events in Venezuela. Mette Frederiksen told the Danish Broadcasting Corporation, “Unfortunately, I think the American president should be taken seriously when he says he wants Greenland.” European leaders have rallied to Denmark’s side. UK Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer told Sky News, “Greenland and the Kingdom of Denmark are to decide the future of Greenland, and only Greenland and the Kingdom of Denmark.” France’s foreign minister, Jean-Noël Barrot, echoed this sentiment: “Greenland is neither for the taking nor for sale.”
NATO’s Article 5, which states that an attack on one member is an attack on all, technically covers Greenland. German Foreign Minister Johann Wadephul confirmed, “Greenland is part of the Kingdom of Denmark. And since Denmark is a member of NATO, Greenland will, in principle, also be subject to NATO defence.” However, European officials are skeptical about their ability to defend the remote, icy island. “We won’t be able to defend Greenland. Are you kidding?” one European official remarked bluntly to The Atlantic.
On the ground in Greenland, the mood is complex. The island has enjoyed extensive self-government since 1979, but defense and foreign policy remain firmly in Danish hands. While some Greenlanders, like Jørgen Boassen—a vocal Trump supporter—see the U.S. interest as “a big opportunity and a new beginning,” opinion polls consistently show overwhelming opposition to joining the United States. Boassen claims that many locals are afraid to voice support for annexation out of fear of retribution, but there is little evidence of widespread enthusiasm for swapping the Danish flag for the Stars and Stripes.
Trump’s ambitions have not been limited to rhetoric. In December, he appointed Louisiana Governor Jeff Landry as special envoy to Greenland and tapped Tom Dans, an ally and entrepreneur, to head an Arctic research commission. Dans, who has organized American excursions to the island, posted online that he would make “the ARCTIC GREAT AGAIN!” These moves have only added to the sense of unease among Danish and European officials, who worry that the U.S. could use its leverage over NATO and security guarantees for Ukraine to pressure Denmark into accepting American plans for the Arctic island.
The anxiety is palpable. Rufus Gifford, a former U.S. ambassador to Denmark, told The Atlantic that Danish officials are struggling to discern Trump’s true intentions. Some fear that the president is using Greenland as a bargaining chip, threatening to withdraw U.S. support for Ukraine or cut off intelligence sharing if Europe resists. The memory of a carnival-like visit by Donald Trump Jr. and a MAGA delegation to Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, still lingers, having eroded what little local goodwill may have existed for the American cause.
Danish lawmakers and diplomats have pointed out that U.S. security objectives in the Arctic could easily be met through cooperation, not confrontation. “If the Americans want another military base, just say where,” one Danish lawmaker told The Atlantic. “If you want a radar, you can put it up.” The Sirius Patrol, a Danish naval unit that conducts dog sled reconnaissance missions in Greenland’s harsh northeast, is still celebrated by the U.S. Department of Defense for its World War II exploits. “Very few U.S. soldiers would survive a week up there,” the lawmaker quipped, highlighting the island’s forbidding terrain.
Despite the saber-rattling, Trump has sent mixed signals about the urgency of his Greenland campaign, offering timelines ranging from “20 days to two months” for when he might fully engage on the issue. His allies seem to relish the discomfort their threats have caused in Europe. “Let them squirm,” one close outside ally told The Atlantic. “Maybe we’ll take it; maybe we won’t. But after what we just saw in Caracas, do you want to try to call Trump’s bluff?”
As the world watches, the fate of Greenland remains uncertain. What is clear is that the island, long on the periphery of global politics, now finds itself at the heart of a high-stakes international drama—one with profound implications for the transatlantic alliance, Arctic security, and the principle of national sovereignty.
