The perils of strategic hubris

The remark that the United States might acquire Greenland “the hard way” would once have been dismissed as rhetorical excess, a headline grabbing provocation designed to unsettle allies and energise domestic supporters. Coming from Donald Trump, framed explicitly in the language of military necessity and national survival, it now carries far heavier implications. Even if no invasion plan is ever executed, the statement itself marks a shift in how power, sovereignty and alliances are being publicly reimagined in Washington.

Greenland is not a new strategic discovery. The world’s largest island has long mattered to American defence planners, from Cold War early warning systems to contemporary missile defence and space surveillance. The United States already operates the Pituffik Space Base under a long-standing bilateral treaty. What is new is the claim that this is no longer enough, that access and partnership must give way to ownership, and that sovereignty itself has become negotiable when framed as a security requirement.

This reframing cuts directly against the legal and normative order the United States has championed since the end of World War II. Under international law, the use of force to acquire territory is prohibited except in the narrowest cases of self-defence. The UN Charter, which Washington played a central role in drafting, rests on the principle that borders cannot be altered through coercion. To suggest that a territory belonging to a US ally could be taken by force, or under threat of force, is to hollow out that principle from within.

The precedent would be far reaching. For years, the United States and its allies have argued that Russia’s actions in Ukraine violate the most basic norms of international conduct. They have warned that allowing security-based justifications for territorial conquest opens the door to permanent instability. If Washington now advances its own version of that logic, claiming that Greenland must be controlled lest rivals gain influence nearby, 

The problem extends beyond law into alliance politics. Greenland is an autonomous territory within the Kingdom of Denmark, a founding member of NATO and one of Washington’s most reliable partners over decades. Denmark joined the United States in controversial military operations, including the 2003 invasion of Iraq, often at domestic political cost. To dismiss Danish sovereignty as a historical technicality is not merely insulting, it signals a transactional view of alliances in which loyalty offers no protection.

Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen has warned that an invasion of Greenland would mean the end of NATO as it currently exists. That statement reflects not melodrama, but a sober assessment of alliance psychology. NATO is not sustained only by treaties and troop deployments. It rests on trust, on the assumption that members will not threaten one another’s territorial integrity. 

Even short of military action, the rhetoric alone erodes confidence. Smaller allies take cues not only from what the United States does, but from what it says it might do. When Washington publicly entertains coercive options against an ally, it encourages hedging behaviour. Over time, this weakens American influence far more effectively than any external rival could.

The irony is that Trump’s argument rests on a distorted reading of the threat environment. Russia and China have indeed increased their Arctic activity. Moscow has expanded military infrastructure along its northern coast, while Beijing has pursued scientific research, shipping interests and long-term economic engagement under the banner of a “near Arctic state”. Yet neither has made any claim on Greenland’s territory. The competition is about access, presence and influence, not annexation.

By collapsing this complex landscape into a binary choice, seize Greenland or lose it to adversaries, the administration transforms manageable competition into manufactured crisis. 

Equally absent from Trump’s framing are the people most directly affected. Greenlanders are not a passive population waiting to be protected or acquired. Over the past two decades, Greenland has steadily expanded its self-governance, taken control of key policy areas, and engaged in active debate about eventual independence. 

Treating Greenland as an asset to be transferred reproduces colonial assumptions that the Arctic world has been trying to move beyond. It strips Greenlanders of political agency and reduces their future to a bargaining chip in a great power contest. For a United States that routinely speaks of defending democracy and self- determination, this contradiction is stark. Protection imposed without consent is indistinguishable, from the perspective of those protected, from domination.

There is also a practical dimension to Greenlandic agency that strategic rhetoric ignores. Any attempt to deepen US control would require sustained local cooperation, legitimacy and consent. Military presence alone cannot substitute for political acceptance. An approach perceived as coercive would almost certainly generate resistance, complicating basing arrangements rather than strengthening them.

Supporters of Trump’s stance argue that strategic necessity overrides these concerns. They point to Greenland’s rare earth deposits, its role in missile defence, and the rapid transformation of the Arctic due to climate change. These are serious issues. The insistence that ownership is the only guarantee of security reflects a deeper erosion of confidence in multilateralism. That worldview may resonate politically, but it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

There is also a domestic political context that cannot be ignored. Territorial assertiveness has long been a potent symbol of strength in American politics. Framing Greenland as a prize to be secured plays well with audiences primed to see global affairs as a contest of dominance. 

It also serves as a convenient distraction from economic uncertainty and governance challenges at home. 

None of this is to deny that the Arctic is entering a more contested phase. Climate change is reshaping geography, opening shipping routes and exposing resources. The United States has every reason to invest more attention, capability and diplomacy in the region. What is at issue is how that engagement is framed. A strategy built on coercion and acquisition risks destabilising the very environment it seeks to control.

Trump’s promise to take Greenland “the hard way” may never translate into action. But words matter in international politics. They shape expectations and alter calculations. Even unfulfilled threats can weaken alliances and legitimise dangerous precedents.

The writer is a foreign policy commentator specialising in India’s engagement with the Global South, multilateral institutions, and the shifting geopolitics of a multipolar world.