US President Donald Trump has reportedly delivered an ultimatum to a group of European countries: accept the sale of Greenland to the United States, or face additional trade tariffs.
This is not the first ultimatum Trump has issued. In recent years there have been several aimed at Russia, many of which were later quietly forgotten. In that sense, the old joke fits perfectly: Trump is a man of his word. He gives his word and then takes it back.
But there is a difference here. Trump’s irritation with these Western Europeans is not a secret. Nor is his conviction that the bloc owes Washington everything, while being incapable of achieving anything serious without American patronage. If he chooses consistency anywhere, it is likely to be in this direction.
Why Greenland? Several motives overlap.
First, vanity. This may be the most important factor in Trump’s personal psychology. He wants to enter history as the president who made America the second largest country in the world by territory. Geography matters to him as a symbol of greatness. This is political branding, imperial nostalgia, and personal ambition rolled into one.
Second, Greenland’s strategic value is real. The Arctic is turning into a region of long-term competition. The list of interests is broad: minerals, military infrastructure, logistics routes, and even data centres, for which cold temperatures offer obvious advantages. In theory, Washington could get much of what it wants simply by negotiating with Denmark. But Trump is not thinking like a diplomat. His instinct is closer to that of a developer: it is safer to own than to rent.
More broadly, it is a reaction to a world he sees as unstable and increasingly hostile. In such a world, no agreement is permanent. Only direct control counts.
Third, Greenland fits Trump’s revived understanding of the Monroe Doctrine in its original spirit: keeping European powers out of the Western Hemisphere. In this logic, Denmark is an anachronism, the last colonial presence in the region. Why should Greenland, located thousands of kilometers from Copenhagen, remain under Danish sovereignty?
And this brings us to the larger issue: what does this mean for NATO?
The very idea that NATO might one day cease to exist feels staggering. Most people alive today have never known a world without it. Since the middle of the 20th century the alliance has been a pillar of international politics: first during the Cold War, then in the decades after. Its role has changed, but its institutional weight has only grown.
Yet historically, there was no unified “political West” until the second half of the last century. It emerged under conditions that no longer exist in the same form.
This does not mean NATO will collapse tomorrow. A compromise can still be found, especially since the belief that NATO is unnecessary does not dominate in the United States. It is a Trumpian position, not a consensus one.
Western Europe, meanwhile, is not capable of quickly building an independent military-political bloc. Even if such an ambition were declared, it is unclear whether it could be realized without American support. Broader European interests diverge, and threat perceptions vary sharply from country to country.
NATO will likely endure, simply because large institutions possess momentum and inertia. But if nearly all the major institutions built in the second half of the 20th century are now in crisis due to changed circumstances, one question becomes unavoidable: why should NATO be the exception?
This article was first published in Kommersant, and was translated and edited by the RT team.
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