President Donald Trump's recent statements in Davos on Greenland mark a partial adjustment in tone, but not in substance. After raising the possibility of acquisition and more or less coercive measures in recent days and weeks, Trump has ruled out the use of force and scaled back the idea of tariffs for countries that participated in the exercise on site, now arguing that the issue is not so much about resources as the security of a strategically crucial “piece of ice”. He also suggested that an agreement could be reached within NATO and that, in fact, there is already a draft agreement following a conversation with Mark Rutte, about which, however, little or nothing is known. This reformulation does not seem to make his position more sustainable. On the contrary, it partly shifts the debate to a terrain — that of security — where the argument is even more fragile. From a military point of view, Greenland is already fully integrated into the Western security architecture. Through Denmark, it is part of NATO, and the United States has had direct and strategically decisive military access for decades. The Pituffik base (formerly Thule Air Base) provides essential missile warning, space surveillance and Arctic control capabilities. In operational terms, Washington already has what it needs to defend the North Atlantic and could strengthen these capabilities without changing sovereignty arrangements.

The idea that NATO could become the vehicle for “reaching an agreement” on Greenland's sovereignty is legally improper and politically destabilising. The Alliance is not a forum for negotiating territorial control between allies. It is therefore not surprising that this approach has provoked strong reactions of irritation among several Greenlandic politicians, who have perceived it as an attempt to circumvent local democratic institutions. Rather than strengthening security, such pressure would produce political instability, internal conflict and loss of trust, reducing cooperation in an already sensitive region.

Alongside the political and security dimensions, we must never lose sight of President Trump's economic interest, which also helps to explain in part the origin of his insistence on Greenland. It is widely reported that Ronald Lauder, a US billionaire, personal friend and political supporter of Trump, played a role in promoting the idea of a greater American presence on the island. Lauder is said to be one of the first to have suggested to Trump the strategic importance of Greenland and has made investments in water and energy-related activities, particularly in local water initiatives and energy development projects. At the same time, other major international investors have expressed an exploratory and as yet unstructured interest in Greenland's mining and infrastructure potential, without this having translated into concrete or significant operations to date. It is important to clarify that there is no evidence that Lauder — or other billionaires — are “buying Greenland”, nor that they can do so. Private investments are subject to Greenlandic laws, environmental assessments, public consultations and, above all, local political consensus. In any case, even very large amounts of capital cannot circumvent the structural, political and climatic constraints that characterise the island.

Greenland does indeed possess exceptional geological wealth. Surveys indicate the presence of 25 of the European Union's 34 critical raw materials, and southern Greenland is home to some of the world's largest undeveloped deposits of rare earths, which are essential for electric vehicles, wind turbines and advanced electronics. In volumetric terms, the potential could represent up to 20% of global reserves, although only a portion is economically and politically exploitable.The Kvanefjeld/Kuannersuit deposit contains approximately 11.1 million tonnes of rare earth oxides, but also approximately 270,000 tonnes of uranium, making the two elements geologically inseparable. Other projects, such as Tanbreez and Kringlerne, have lower levels of radioactivity but remain in the pre-commercial phase.

Greenland also has significant base metal resources, notably around 340 million tonnes of zinc at Citronen Fjord, and offshore basins estimated to contain 30–50 billion barrels of oil equivalent, largely unexplored. Despite this resource base, actual production remains minimal. Only one or two small mines are currently in operation, producing mainly zinc and lead. There is no commercial production of rare earths, uranium or hydrocarbons, although the new government is considering how to better exploit some of its mineral resources. The reasons are primarily structural. Greenland has no road network connecting towns and mining sites; all logistics depend on air and sea transport, with only three to four months of reliable ice-free navigation per year. The workforce is highly skilled but small. Large mining projects typically require between €1 billion and €5 billion in initial investment, while energy supplies remain limited and largely based on diesel.

As a result, even under favourable political conditions, the time frame is long. From licence granting to first production, it takes at least five to ten years for relatively simple projects, while more complex ones can take fifteen years or more. Domestic politics further reinforces these constraints. The debate on mining is linked to economic self-sufficiency and the prospect of independence from Denmark, which currently finances around 80% of Greenland's public budget, amounting to approximately €600 million. However, public opinion continues to favour environmental protection, health, fishing and traditional livelihoods. The 2021 parliamentary elections made this priority explicit, bringing Inuit Ataqatigiit to power with 37% of the vote and introducing a ban on the extraction of uranium and highly radioactive minerals, setting a threshold of 100 parts per million. With estimated concentrations between 250 and 350 ppm, the Kvanefjeld project has effectively been blocked. The 2025 elections, which gave a majority to the centre-right opposition Democratic Party, did not overturn this decision. The arrival of an external authority in Greenland would certainly provoke strong internal resistance, legal disputes and prolonged political mobilisation. Rather than facilitating access to resources and security, such a move would increase conflicts, slow down authorisations, discourage long-term investment and increase risk premiums. International repercussions would make the picture even more complex.

Climate change accentuates these facts. The melting of the ice is often presented as a shortcut to rapid exploitation of Greenland, but this is largely an illusion. Arctic routes are currently only navigable for two to four months a year, and even in the most optimistic scenarios, a largely ice-free Arctic in summer is only plausible between 2040 and 2050. Meanwhile, the Greenland ice sheet — 2.9 million km³ of ice, equivalent to about seven metres of global sea level rise — continues to shrink at an increasing rate: high-emission scenarios indicate losses of 1,000–1,700 gigatonnes per year by 2100, with direct effects on sea level and North Atlantic circulation. For Greenlanders, climate change is already a reality affecting coastlines, fisheries and traditional practices.

For the European Union and like-minded partners, the competitive advantage obviously lies not in pressure or ownership, but in partnership. Supporting credible, high environmental standard supply chains for selected minerals, offering long-term purchase agreements, risk mitigation tools, training and infrastructure investments is far more effective than pursuing geopolitical shortcuts. Equally important is recognising Greenland's institutions as governance partners with effective veto power, directly involving civil society through visits, joint initiatives and twinning of European and Greenlandic cities.In short, neither security, nor resources, nor timing favour a strategy of excessive pressure. Ownership would not translate into access, but into friction and conflict. In Greenland, too, democratic consensus, climate physics and real economic timing matter more than bellicose intentions.

An important lesson can be learned from this situation, which the EU should take into serious consideration. Greenlanders are articulating a cautious, selective and environmentally based model of development, not out of ideology, but out of lived experience, culture and long-term calculation. They prioritise governance, social consensus and climate responsibility over ownership and volume. For external partners, particularly in Europe, this should not be an obstacle, but a guide. Greenland's resources could play a role in future supply chains, particularly for critical minerals and Arctic logistics, but only through partnership, respect for local authority, acceptance of climate constraints and consistency with agreed decarbonisation targets. In a world marked by climate emergency and increasingly violent conflicts, this type of approach is the only one that offers hope and can work.

Monica Frassoni

22/01/2026

Monica Frassoni

22/01/2026