Even before marking the first anniversary of his return to the White House, United States President Donald Trump doubled down on his controversial and highly damaging bid to take over Greenland, warning on January 19 that being snubbed for the Nobel peace prize last year has made him no longer obliged to think “purely of peace”.
Three days later, during a speech at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Mr Trump backed down — somewhat — and ruled out the use of force in his pursuit of the world’s largest island. It was a climbdown of sorts, even perhaps mildly embarrassing for the US president, and not the first time that a combination of push-back from Congress and NATO allies together with an adverse market reaction made him change course.
So, how did we get there and is this the end of the Greenland saga?
Buoyed by what he clearly saw as a successful military operation in Venezuela and the subsequent apprehension of a Russian-flagged oil tanker in the North Atlantic, the US president seemed determined to annex Greenland — a move he has claimed is essential to US national security — no matter the consequences.
And these consequences were beginning to look more serious than ever.
A meeting of officials from the US, Denmark and Greenland on January 14 had failed to reach any breakthrough. The following day, several European countries deployed small contingents of their armed forces to Greenland, an autonomous territory of NATO and EU member Denmark.
The public message attached to this was that the Europeans were serious about their commitment to Arctic security — allegedly one of Mr Trump’s key concerns. But combined with combative rhetoric about Danish sovereignty and Greenlandic self-determination, Europe also sent a message to Mr Trump that he had crossed a line that could and would no longer be ignored.
Europe’s tougher stance on Greenland’s future did not mean that war between the US and its erstwhile European NATO allies was imminent or that the end of the transatlantic alliance was nearing, although the latter suddenly seemed a much more realistic possibility.
Trump’s initial response to this European escalation — as he must have perceived it —was threatening to impose an additional 10 per cent levy on all goods imported from the eight European countries that he saw as the main obstacle between him and his ambitions in Greenland. These new tariffs were to take effect on February 1, before an increase to 25 per cent in June.
The European response, at least rhetorically, was swift and clear: Europe will not be blackmailed. Even Italy’s leader, Giorgia Meloni, who is relatively close to Mr Trump, said the tariffs “would be a mistake”.
What it lacks in military heft, the European Union makes up in economic leverage, and in a potential trade war, the EU would definitely be a more formidable opponent for Mr Trump.
It still has some €93 billion worth of tariffs on US goods at the ready which Brussels drew up in response to Mr Trump’s so-called “Liberation Day” tariffs last April.
The EU took a pause on the implementation of these retaliatory tariffs when it managed to iron out a trade deal with the US last August. That six-month pause is running out on February 7. Unless there is a vote to extend the moratorium on their implementation, they will automatically come into force. This is an important consideration for both Brussels and Washington: it removes the threat of Mr Trump’s European allies, like Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orban, blocking their extension.
An EU retaliation could quickly lead to an escalating tariff war. Given European dependence on the US for exports and imports of US-made weapons, Mr Trump, in all likelihood, has escalation dominance in a transatlantic trade war. This could then force the EU to deploy its ultimate trade weapon or the “big bazooka” — the so-called anti-coercion instrument.
Initially devised to deal with China, the powerful but never-before-used instrument gives the European Commission powers in various areas, including restricting US access to EU public contracts, investment and even trade in services, one of the few areas where the US runs a surplus.
Brussels might have had stronger cards in an economic war with the US, but if push came to shove, it would probably still have lost. But a win for Washington would also have come at a high cost for the US, never mind the irreparable damage to the West as we know it.
So, given these likely and unpleasant outcomes, why was Europe pushing back so hard, and why now?
First, it seemed clear that the strategy of flattering and placating Mr Trump had reached its use-by date. Europe is unlikely to be able to prevent a determined American president from taking Greenland, but it clearly also no longer wanted to pretend that these were just cultural misunderstandings among friends that could be magically fixed.
Second, part of the European strategy was playing for time. Mr Trump is keen on Greenland now, but who is to say that he might not think of an easier win elsewhere that would be less controversial domestically, say taking on cartels in Colombia or Mexico, or pushing for regime change in Cuba or Iran?
The closer the US gets to the mid-term elections in November, the more Mr Trump, and key parts of the MAGA establishment, will want to avoid debates that are difficult to sell as “America First”.
Third, still with at least half an eye on the US mid-term elections, the thinking in Brussels very likely also was that time that Europe buys itself and Greenland now is also time that will help already obvious bipartisan opposition to Mr Trump’s annexation plans in the US Congress to become more effective.
Ultimately, it seemed likely that a case could be made that any security concerns regarding Greenland are best dealt with through NATO, while the consequences for the US for going it alone — including paralysis, if not the outright dismantling of the transatlantic alliance — would harm America in its competition with China and severely limit its ability to project power outside the Western Hemisphere.
These calculations appear to have borne fruit. By the end of Mr Trump’s anniversary week, the threat of a military operation to take over Greenland was off the table and the idea of imposing tariffs on European NATO allies had been abandoned.
But what has crucially not been abandoned is Mr Trump’s desire to get his way on Greenland. He still wants “right, title and ownership” of Greenland, warning NATO members in his speech at the World Economic Forum in Davos that they can “say ‘yes‘ and we will be very appreciative, or ... ‘no’ and we will remember.”
Europeans should also take note that the new national defence strategy of the US, released late on Friday night, commits the Pentagon to provide Mr Trump “with credible options to guarantee U.S. military and commercial access to key terrain from the Arctic to South America, especially Greenland, the Gulf of America, and the Panama Canal.”
European pushback against Mr Trump’s obsession with Greenland has produced some positive results for now.
It is not clear how long they will last, let alone whether Europe has done enough to persuade Mr Trump to change course permanently and look for other ways to deal with a shared north Atlantic security concern.
If nothing else, having discovered some spine in dealing with Mr Trump pushes Europe further down the line of learning to stand — and walk — on its own feet. And a more formidable European ally might suddenly look more alluring again to Mr Trump or whoever succeeds him in the White House in 2029.
An earlier version of this analysis was published by Channel News Asia on January 21, 2026.
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