The scene was extraordinary: whilst the White House issued veiled threats of military action against a NATO ally over an Arctic island, eleven members of the United States Congress rushed onto aeroplanes and headed to Copenhagen. They came bearing a simple but urgent message—that despite their president's aggressive posturing, the American legislative branch would not abandon Denmark and Greenland to the capricious demands of a man intent on remaking the geopolitical order through coercion.
The delegation, led by Democratic Senator Chris Coons, arrived in Denmark knowing full well that the stakes could hardly be higher. President Donald Trump had made himself unmistakably clear: the United States would acquire Greenland—'the easy way' or 'the hard way'. Those euphemisms concealed something far more sinister: the explicit refusal to rule out military force. For the first time in NATO's history, one member state appeared willing to threaten another not with diplomacy but with the prospect of invasion.
Trump's Arctic Ambitions Threaten to Splinter NATO Alliance
Greenland is sparsely populated yet extraordinarily valuable. Its strategic position between North America and the Arctic makes it an ideal location for early warning systems against missile attacks and for monitoring vessel movements in one of the world's most contested regions. The United States already maintains more than 100 military personnel at its Pituffik base, a facility it has operated since World War Two. Under existing agreements with Denmark, Washington possesses the authority to deploy as many additional troops as it desires.
Yet Trump insisted this was insufficient. The US needed to 'own' Greenland outright, he claimed, to defend it properly against what he characterized as the mounting threat from Russia and China. Anything less, Trump declared in a statement, would be 'unacceptable'. He went further, insisting that 'NATO should be leading the way' to help the United States acquire the territory—a remarkable assertion that asked the alliance itself to facilitate the absorption of one member's territory by another.
The proposal revealed a fundamental misunderstanding, or perhaps a calculated disregard, for the nature of the alliance Trump claimed to support. NATO's founding principle rests upon Article 5—a commitment that an attack upon one member constitutes an attack upon all. The alliance had never been forced to contemplate whether that principle extended to internal aggression, to one member invading another. Denmark's Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen made clear what would happen if Trump attempted such an action: it would mean 'the end of NATO'.
The confrontation escalated through the week with dizzying speed. On Wednesday, Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio met with Danish Foreign Minister Lars Løkke Rasmussen and Greenlandic Foreign Minister Vivian Motzfeldt at the White House. The meeting, according to Danish officials, proved utterly fruitless. The Trump administration 'did not manage to change' its position. If anything, Rasmussen and Motzfeldt emerged from that encounter more convinced than ever that the American president was serious.
In response, Denmark and its European allies took extraordinary steps. France, Germany, Sweden, Norway, Finland, the Netherlands and the United Kingdom dispatched military personnel to Greenland—limited numbers, but unmistakably symbolic. French President Emmanuel Macron announced that 'land, air, and sea assets' would soon follow. The message was clear: if Trump attempted military action against Greenland, he would face not merely Denmark but the collective defensive response of Europe.
Congressional Delegation Scrambles to Restore Diplomatic Balance
It was into this maelstrom that Senator Coons and his bipartisan delegation arrived. The group included Republican Senators Thom Tillis and Lisa Murkowski, a deliberate choice to signal that opposition to Trump's Greenland ambitions transcended party lines. 'At a time of increasing international instability, we need to draw closer to our allies, not drive them away,' Coons said, articulating the delegation's purpose in language calculated to rebuke the president without naming him directly.
The Congressional group met with Danish parliamentarians, Prime Minister Frederiksen, and Greenland's Prime Minister Jens-Frederik Nielsen. In Copenhagen's parliament building, Christiansborg, the Greenlandic flag flew prominently at the main staircase—a visual affirmation of the island's sovereignty and international standing.
The meeting served multiple purposes: to reassure Denmark and Greenland that Congress, at least, remained committed to NATO; to gather firsthand intelligence about local sentiment; and to signal to Trump that any attempt at military action would face congressional resistance.
Senator Murkowski, herself a sponsor of bipartisan legislation designed to prevent Trump from deploying military force to seize Greenland, emphasised Congress's constitutional authority. The legislators possessed the power of the purse—the ability to refuse to authorise funding for military operations. She also invoked the will of constituents: 75 per cent of Americans opposed Trump's plan.
Yet even as the delegation worked to contain the damage, Trump's envoy to Greenland, Jeff Landry, told Fox News on Friday that the White House remained committed. 'I do believe that there's a deal that should and will be made once this plays out,' he declared. 'The president is serious. I think he's laid the markers down.'
What Landry and the administration appeared unwilling to acknowledge was the sheer improbability of any 'deal' being struck. Both Denmark and Greenland had made their positions absolutely unambiguous. Greenland's political leadership issued a joint statement declaring that 'the future of Greenland must be decided by its people' and expressing their 'wish that the United States' contempt for our country ends'. No amount of American pressure could alter that fundamental democratic reality.
The congressional delegation thus faced an impossible task: to repair the damage inflicted by their own president whilst simultaneously respecting the sovereignty of peoples who had done nothing to provoke his ire.
For now, at least, the show of bipartisan support and allied solidarity offered a slender thread of hope that NATO might yet survive this extraordinary crisis. But as Trump continued to refuse to rule out military force, even that hope seemed increasingly fragile.
