When Donald Trump declared that the United States “wants Greenland” and wouldn’t rule out military force to get it, I thought it was a bad joke.
It sounded like one of those Trumpian lines designed to dominate the news cycle for a day or two before collapsing under its own absurdity. But the joke hasn’t gone away. And now it feels like the stuff of nightmares.
Let’s be clear about what we’re talking about. Despite its name, Greenland isn’t green. It is a land of ice and rock, the planet’s largest island, three times the size of Texas.
Its heart is a glacial desert: 87 percent of it is encased in an ice sheet that can go up to 3,000 metres high. This is a land defined not by life, but by its scale and barrenness.
No wonder it is one of the least inhabited places on Earth. Roughly 56,000 people call it home, nearly half in the capital, Nuuk. For centuries, colonisers—including the Vikings—came and ultimately left, defeated by the brutal climate.
Only the Inuit, who perfected survival in this frozen realm, have endured, comprising nearly 90 percent of the population. Theirs is an economy built on the stark arithmetic of nature: fishing, sealing, sheep rearing, and, recently, hosting a trickle of tourists (about 140,000 a year).
Since the 1700s, Greenland has been under Danish sovereignty. Copenhagen provides a subsidy covering about half its annual budget, roughly $500-600 million. For Denmark, it has been a responsibility, not a revenue stream. So why would Trump covet this barren outpost?
Three forces have converged to turn this icy island into the hottest geopolitical property on Earth: climate change, resources, and great‑power rivalry.
A warming planet is rewriting Greenland’s destiny. Summers now linger three weeks longer. As the ice sheet melts, it’s exposing the bedrock, which geologists believe holds a treasure trove of rare earth elements estimated at over $200 billion. These are essential for everything from smartphones to missile guidance systems.
Here, the plot thickens. At present, China dominates this sector, accounting for roughly 70 percent of global rare earth mining and close to 90 percent of processing capacity. The US, long asleep at the wheel, sees a potential answer in Greenland’s thawing ground.
Simultaneously, the Arctic itself has become a contested arena. Russia and China are already expanding their Arctic footprints—submarines patrol beneath the ice, research stations double as surveillance posts, and military infrastructure creeps northward. For Washington, ceding influence here is unthinkable.
To be fair to Trump, US interest in Greenland isn’t new. In 1867, right after buying Alaska, the US proposed a deal to acquire Greenland. In 1946, President Truman offered Denmark $100 million during early Cold War tensions.
Informal inquiries resurfaced in the 1950s. American strategists have long seen Greenland as a gigantic, unsinkable aircraft carrier guarding the northern approach to North America.
This view is compounded by the Monroe Doctrine, that two-centuries-old principle declaring the Western Hemisphere an American sphere of influence. Greenland, though tied to Europe, sits in that hemisphere. In the eyes of certain Washington strategists, that makes its ultimate alignment a matter of national destiny.
But here’s the rub: wanting something doesn’t make it yours.
I’ve always been a bitter critic of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. I have been accused of siding with imperialists—but I stood firm. Russia’s demand to annex the Donbas regions isn’t negotiation. It is conquest disguised as security.
Now, watching Trump flirt with a similar logic toward Denmark shakes me to my core. I do not place Russia and the US on the same moral plane—but what Trump is proposing dangerously blurs the line between the two.
And the irony is this: the US already has what it needs.
Under longstanding defence agreements dating back to 1951, the US maintains military access on the island, most notably the Thule Air Base.
Denmark is a NATO ally, deeply invested in European security and one of Ukraine’s strongest supporters relative to its GDP. If Washington wants greater military cooperation, Copenhagen is not the obstacle.
If the issue is rare earth elements, mining rights, and partnerships already exist—and more could be negotiated. That is how civilised states behave. Threats are not a strategy but sabotage.
If the US were to succeed in taking Greenland by coercion, the consequences would be catastrophic. It would signal the end of the rules-based order.
It would fracture NATO. It would legitimise the idea that might is right. And for those of us who still believe—perhaps stubbornly—that democracy restrains the worst instincts of power, it would be a devastating lesson.
We’ve seen this movie before: Trump is not dragging us into the future; he is pulling us back into the 19th century.
For all our sakes—the Americans must rein in Trump. Not because he is wrong about Greenland’s importance, but because he is wrong in how he is pursuing his agenda. For once the rules collapse, no one will be safe from those who decide they want more land and more power—and are willing to take it.
Charles Makakala is a Technology and Management Consultant based in Dar es Salaam
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