By Syed Shahmim Akhtar
In the early weeks of 2026, President Donald Trump rekindled a geopolitical debate that many believed belonged to a bygone era of great‑power rivalry. At the White House, he asserted that the United States must “acquire” Greenland to prevent Russia or China from establishing a foothold on the vast Arctic island. “If we don’t take Greenland, Russia or China will take it,” he declared, framing the situation as a stark choice between American strategic primacy and unwanted neighbors from abroad. The remark, blunt in its formulation and sweeping in its implications, reflects a worldview in which power is equated with right and strategic advantage is assumed to justify territorial claims.
What was reported as an outlier in American political rhetoric has instead become a signpost of a deeper tension at the heart of contemporary international relations. Greenland’s story underscores this tension. A semi‑autonomous territory of Denmark, with a population of just over 57,000, it is not a prize waiting to be seized. It sits under the legal protection of one of NATO’s founding members and has repeatedly affirmed its desire for self‑determination. Officials in Nuuk and Copenhagen have both rejected the notion of ceding sovereignty to Washington, insisting that the island’s defence should remain a matter of collective NATO responsibility rather than unilateral American domination.
European leaders from France, Germany, Italy, Poland, Spain, and Britain issued a joint statement reinforcing the principle that decisions about Greenland rest with Denmark and Greenland alone. The response from Lisbon to Copenhagen has been telling. Denmark has warned that any attempt by the United States to unilaterally seize or absorb Greenland could spell the end of NATO as it exists today, fracturing an alliance built on mutual defence and trust. The European Commissioner for Defence and Space went further, suggesting that such an act would not merely be destabilizing but could irrevocably damage transatlantic cooperation.
These statements are not rhetorical flourishes; they encapsulate a broader unease among US allies about America’s current posture on the world stage. The Greenland episode is symptomatic of a foreign policy that prioritizes raw power and immediate strategic advantage over established norms and collective security. In recent weeks, Trump has also reiterated claims that he “stopped” eight wars, including conflicts involving Pakistan and India — statements he appears to view as evidence of his peace‑making credentials. Such assertions, often reiterated in public remarks and social media, are difficult to verify and have been met with scepticism by many observers and the governments involved.
India, for example, has consistently denied third‑party mediation in tensions with Pakistan, emphasizing its own diplomatic and military channels. The impulse to claim credit for averting war is understandable in political discourse. Preventing armed conflict can save lives and reduce suffering. But it also raises a deeper question: does the cessation of hostilities necessarily equate to the establishment of peace? History suggests otherwise. Ceasefires can hold only so long as the underlying causes of war — territorial disputes, political exclusion, economic inequality, historical grievances — remain unaddressed. In the absence of sustained diplomacy and respect for sovereign processes, agreements to stop fighting are fragile, susceptible to collapse with the next escalation.
Nowhere is this more evident than in the Middle East. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza, which unfolded under the shadow of intense geopolitical competition and U.S. influence, has claimed thousands of civilian lives. Many of those decisions were framed as stabilizing actions, yet they have left deep wounds that continue to fester. In Venezuela, international pressure and interference have contributed to political fragmentation rather than reconciliation. Threats against Iran and other states are often couched in the language of security, yet they too echo a logic that prioritizes unilateral force over multilateral engagement and respect for sovereignty.
Taken together, these episodes point to a larger lesson about the risks inherent in a unipolar world dominated by a single power. The assumption that a dominant nation can, or should, set the rules for global governance is fraught with danger. It invites rivals to challenge that dominance, erodes the legitimacy of international law, and weakens multilateral institutions designed to manage conflict and foster cooperation. A world in which might is equivalent to right is a world in which the strong can impose their will on the weak without consequence, rendering diplomacy impotent and calling into question the very ideals that underpin global stability.
(The writer has diverse in knowledge and has a good omen in politics, can be reached at editorial@metro-morning.com)
