Just weeks after Donald Trump publicly threatened to seize Greenland by force, a dramatic geopolitical reversal unfolded in Europe. At the Munich Security Conference, Canada, Denmark, Greenland, and the Faroe Islands quietly signed a sweeping Arctic defence pact—without the United States in the room. The message was unmistakable: Arctic security will be managed by Arctic nations, not dictated from Washington.
The agreement goes far beyond symbolism. It formalizes joint Arctic surveillance, intelligence sharing, coordinated military operations, logistics support, personnel training, and defence innovation. For the first time, Greenland and the Faroe Islands are treated as full participants rather than peripheral territories. The exclusion of the United States is not procedural—it is strategic, signaling a deliberate shift away from American centrality in the High North.
Timing is everything. Trump escalated annexation rhetoric throughout January, calling Greenland an “absolute necessity” for U.S. national security and refusing to rule out military force. Those remarks sent shockwaves through Europe. Denmark, a founding NATO member, warned that any use of force would effectively shatter the alliance. One month later, Canada and Denmark responded—not with words, but with signatures.
Greenland sits at the center of this realignment for a reason. It controls access to the Northwest Passage, a rapidly emerging shipping route that can cut days off Asia–Europe transit as Arctic ice melts. The island also holds vast deposits of rare earth elements—lithium, cobalt, nickel—resources critical to semiconductors, batteries, and military technology. Whoever shapes Greenland’s partnerships shapes the future of Arctic trade, energy, and security.
Trump understood Greenland’s value but misplayed the strategy. His first mistake was treating Greenland as property rather than a self-governing society with its own parliament, prime minister, and political will. His second was publicly threatening military force against a NATO ally. His third—and most consequential—was ignoring Canada, Greenland’s closest geographic neighbor and the Arctic power with deep Inuit, cultural, and security ties to the region.
Canada moved decisively into the vacuum. Ottawa opened a new consulate in Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, complete with a defence attaché working directly with Greenland’s government. Through the new pact, Canadian forces gain access to Danish facilities in Greenland, while Denmark can operate from Canadian Arctic bases. Intelligence sharing, joint exercises, and logistics cooperation now function independently of Washington.
The implications ripple far beyond Greenland. NATO is not collapsing, but it is adapting. Canada and Denmark now possess the capability to manage Arctic security without U.S. leadership if necessary. Greenland gains a formal seat at the security table, accelerating its path toward greater autonomy. Meanwhile, Russia and China are watching closely as Arctic coordination tightens—without American direction.
This is the paradox of Trump’s approach. By replacing diplomacy with threats, he achieved the opposite of control. He demanded Greenland. Canada offered partnership. He threatened force. Ottawa built alternatives. The result is a newly consolidated Arctic framework led by Canada and Denmark, a more autonomous Greenland, a Europe hedging against U.S. unpredictability—and an America increasingly looking in from the outside. One pact, one month, a total Arctic realignment.
