Trump's Greenland push forces Europe to confront what it cannot afford

The American president's territorial ambitions have become an accidental stress test for European strategic autonomy. The results expose a €1.8 trillion investment gap, fiscal rules that prevent defense spending, and political systems unable to sustain the commitments that independence requires.

Trump's Greenland push forces Europe to confront what it cannot afford

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The Reckoning in the North

Donald Trump wants to buy Greenland. He has said so repeatedly, refused to rule out military force, and declared acquisition a “national security priority.” European leaders have responded with indignation, solidarity with Denmark, and renewed talk of strategic autonomy. But beneath the diplomatic theater lies a harder question: Can Europe actually afford to defend itself?

The Greenland gambit has become an accidental stress test. Trump’s blunt transactionalism—treating a NATO ally’s territory as purchasable real estate—has forced European capitals to confront what they have avoided for decades. Strategic autonomy sounds noble in Brussels communiqués. Making it real requires money, industrial capacity, and political will that Europe has systematically failed to generate.

The numbers are unforgiving. The European Defence Agency calculates that EU members have underinvested in defense by approximately €1.8 trillion since the Cold War ended. Closing that gap would require sustained spending increases that collide directly with Europe’s fiscal architecture, welfare state commitments, and political incentives. Trump’s Arctic provocation has not created this problem. It has merely made ignoring it impossible.

The Doctrine That Wasn’t

European strategic autonomy emerged as a formal concept in the EU Global Strategy of 2016, defining it as “Europe’s autonomy of decision and action.” The Versailles Declaration of March 2022, issued weeks after Russia invaded Ukraine, elevated the ambition further: greater EU strategic autonomy in defense, energy supply, and the economy. The Strategic Compass, approved the same year, promised “an ambitious plan of action for strengthening the EU’s security and defence policy by 2030.”

These documents share a common feature. They describe intentions without specifying how to pay for them.

The conventional understanding treats European defense spending as a political choice constrained by competing priorities. This framing is incomplete. Europe’s fiscal architecture actively prevents the defense investment that strategic autonomy requires. The Stability and Growth Pact limits deficits to 3% of GDP and debt to 60%. The European Central Bank’s mandate focuses on price stability, not strategic capacity. There is no fiscal union, no common borrowing mechanism for defense, and no political consensus to create one.

These are not bugs. They are features of a system designed to prevent the kind of discretionary spending that defense requires. When European leaders invoke strategic autonomy, they are describing a destination without acknowledging that the roads leading there have been systematically demolished.

The structural constraint becomes visible in procurement. The European defence technological and industrial base suffers from what the European Parliament delicately terms “severe difficulties in obtaining finance.” Private capital flows toward commercial opportunities with predictable returns. Defense contracts depend on government budgets subject to electoral cycles. Banks assess defense companies as higher risk precisely because their revenue depends on political decisions that change every four years.

This creates a temporal mismatch. Building strategic autonomy requires decade-long investment horizons. European democracies operate on four-year cycles. Trump’s transactional diplomacy demands immediate responses. The EU’s seven-year Multiannual Financial Framework moves glacially. These different temporal rhythms cannot be reconciled through declarations alone.

What Greenland Reveals

The Arctic territory matters for three reasons that intersect uncomfortably with European strategic pretensions.

First, geography. Greenland sits astride the shortest flight paths between North America and Eurasia. The Thule Air Base, operated by the United States under a 1951 agreement with Denmark, provides early warning radar coverage and space surveillance capabilities that cannot be replicated elsewhere. Whoever controls Greenland controls a critical node in the architecture of nuclear deterrence.

Second, resources. Greenland contains significant deposits of rare earth elements essential for advanced weapons systems, electric vehicles, and renewable energy infrastructure. China controls approximately 60% of global rare earth mining and 90% of processing capacity. Europe’s dependence on Chinese supply chains for these materials represents a strategic vulnerability that Greenland could theoretically address.

Third, symbolism. Trump’s willingness to pressure a NATO ally over territorial acquisition exposes the fragility of alliance commitments that Europeans have treated as permanent. If the United States views allied territory as potentially purchasable, what does Article 5 actually guarantee?

The Greenlandic government—the Naalakkersuisut—has leveraged this situation with surprising sophistication. As observers have noted, Greenland can now extract concessions from Denmark, the United States, and rival powers simultaneously. American desperation for Arctic access competes with European neglect, allowing Nuuk to maximize the rent it charges for strategic positioning.

But European responses to this dynamic have been rhetorical rather than material. The EU lacks the military presence, the investment capacity, and the political coherence to offer Greenland an alternative to American pressure. Strategic autonomy, in this context, means watching from the sidelines while others determine the Arctic’s future.

The Industrial Base That Isn’t

Europe’s defense industrial capacity has atrophied through decades of underinvestment. The consequences are now measurable.

EU defense spending reached a record €279 billion in 2023, increasing 10% from the previous year, with 2024 projected at €326 billion. These numbers sound impressive until compared with requirements. Eighteen of thirty-two NATO members now meet the 2% of GDP spending target. But meeting a percentage threshold is not the same as possessing capability.

The problem is structural. European defense procurement remains fragmented across twenty-seven national markets with different requirements, standards, and industrial policies. France protects its aerospace sector. Germany guards its naval shipbuilding. Italy defends its armored vehicle production. Each country maintains subscale industrial capacity that cannot achieve the economies of scale that American or Chinese competitors enjoy.

The European Defence Fund, established to encourage collaborative research and development, has invested over €4 billion since 2021. The 2024 calls allocated €1.1 billion across 62 new projects. These sums are meaningful but insufficient. They represent coordination at the margin, not transformation of the industrial base.

The skills gap compounds the problem. European defense companies are scrambling for workers as orders surge. The EU aims to retrain 600,000 workers for the defense sector by 2030, acknowledging a skills shortage that cannot be eliminated quickly. But training workers requires years. Expanding production capacity requires financing that banks hesitate to provide. Building new facilities requires permits, environmental reviews, and community acceptance that European regulatory systems make difficult.

Financial capital assumes infinite liquidity. Tacit knowledge transmission follows different rules. You cannot purchase the experience of a skilled machinist or the institutional memory of a procurement office. The €1.8 trillion investment gap represents not just missing money but missing decades of accumulated expertise.

The Fiscal Trap

Europe’s fiscal rules were designed to prevent irresponsible borrowing. They now prevent responsible investment in strategic capacity.

The logic made sense in the 1990s. European monetary union required constraints on national fiscal policy to prevent free-riding. Countries sharing a currency needed mechanisms to prevent one member’s deficits from creating inflation that harmed others. The Stability and Growth Pact codified these constraints.

But the rules make no distinction between consumption spending and investment in strategic capacity. A country that borrows to fund pension increases faces the same constraints as one that borrows to build ammunition factories. The fiscal architecture treats strategic autonomy as a luxury rather than a necessity.

The ReArm Europe initiative attempts to work around these constraints. It proposes common borrowing mechanisms, exemptions for defense spending from deficit calculations, and new financing instruments. But each proposal requires unanimous agreement from member states with divergent interests. Germany resists common debt. Frugal northern countries oppose exemptions. Southern European states prioritize welfare spending over defense.

Emmanuel Macron has pushed hardest for European strategic autonomy, warning that Europe risks becoming a “vassal” of other powers. His rhetoric is compelling. His ability to deliver is constrained by the same fiscal architecture that binds everyone else. France can increase its own defense spending. It cannot force Germany, Italy, or Poland to do the same.

Olaf Scholz’s Germany illustrates the political constraints. The Zeitenwende speech of February 2022 promised a fundamental reorientation of German security policy. Three years later, the €100 billion special fund for the Bundeswehr is being spent, but structural defense spending has not increased to levels that would sustain modernization after the fund is exhausted. German voters prioritize social spending. German industry prioritizes export markets. German politics prioritizes coalition stability.

The Autonomy Paradox

Strategic autonomy requires capabilities that Europe cannot afford to build independently. But depending on American capabilities means accepting American priorities—including, potentially, American territorial ambitions.

This paradox has no clean resolution.

The optimistic view holds that Trump’s provocations will finally generate the political will for European defense investment. Shock therapy, administered by an unreliable ally, could accomplish what decades of gradualism failed to achieve. The EU’s mutual defense clause—Article 42.7, rarely invoked—could provide a legal framework for collective European action independent of NATO.

The pessimistic view notes that political will without fiscal capacity produces declarations, not capabilities. Europe can agree that strategic autonomy is necessary while remaining unable to fund it. The €1.8 trillion investment gap represents not a single decision but thousands of accumulated choices over thirty years. Reversing that trajectory requires sustained political commitment across multiple electoral cycles in multiple countries with different interests.

The realistic view acknowledges both dynamics. Trump’s Greenland gambit has accelerated European rhetoric about strategic autonomy. It has not accelerated European spending on strategic capacity. The gap between words and resources continues to widen.

Some signals suggest genuine movement. Defense spending records are being set. The European Defence Fund is operational. PESCO projects are advancing. The EU’s Defence Industrial Strategy aims to increase ammunition production capacity through joint procurement and strengthened industry dialogue.

But these initiatives operate within constraints that have not changed. Fiscal rules remain in place. National procurement preferences persist. Industrial fragmentation continues. The skills shortage deepens. The €1.8 trillion gap grows larger as requirements increase faster than investment.

The Arctic Test

Greenland offers a concrete test of European strategic capacity. The island’s rare earth deposits could reduce European dependence on Chinese supply chains. Its geographic position matters for Arctic shipping routes and climate monitoring. Its people—the Kalaallit—have their own aspirations for self-determination that neither American acquisition nor European neglect respects.

What would genuine European strategic engagement with Greenland require?

Investment in extraction and processing infrastructure that European environmental regulations make difficult. The Kvanefjeld rare earth project was blocked by Greenland’s uranium mining ban, illustrating how ESG commitments conflict with resource security. European capitals cannot simultaneously demand strategic autonomy and prohibit the mining that would enable it.

Military presence that Europe lacks the capacity to project. The Arctic is not the Mediterranean. Operating in extreme cold requires specialized equipment, trained personnel, and logistical infrastructure that European forces have not prioritized. Denmark’s military is modest. Other European nations have even less Arctic capability.

Diplomatic coherence that European institutions struggle to achieve. Greenland’s relationship with Denmark, and through Denmark with the EU, involves complex constitutional arrangements that Brussels cannot easily navigate. The Naalakkersuisut has learned to play external powers against each other. Europe offers neither the investment that China provides nor the security guarantees that America offers.

The honest assessment: Europe cannot currently compete for Greenland’s strategic orientation. Trump’s gambit exposes this incapacity rather than creating it.

What Happens Next

The default trajectory leads to continued divergence between European rhetoric and European capability.

Defense spending will increase modestly, driven by the Ukraine war’s demonstration effects and American pressure for burden-sharing. But increases will remain insufficient to close the €1.8 trillion gap or build the industrial base that strategic autonomy requires. Fiscal constraints will bind. Electoral cycles will intervene. National preferences will fragment procurement.

The United States will continue to provide the nuclear umbrella, the intelligence architecture, and the power projection capabilities that Europe lacks. This dependence will persist regardless of who occupies the White House, because the alternatives require investments that European political systems cannot sustain.

Greenland will navigate between American pressure and European neglect, extracting concessions from both while pursuing its own path toward greater autonomy from Denmark. The island’s rare earth deposits will likely be developed eventually, but on terms that reflect Chinese investment capacity rather than European strategic planning.

Strategic autonomy will remain a useful phrase for European leaders seeking to demonstrate independence from American priorities. It will not become a material reality that changes Europe’s strategic position.

The Greenland gambit has clarified what was already true. Europe wants strategic autonomy. Europe cannot afford strategic autonomy. These facts coexist uncomfortably, and Trump’s provocations have made them impossible to ignore.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q: Could the United States actually acquire Greenland? A: Not through purchase. Denmark has repeatedly refused to sell, and Greenland’s autonomous government opposes acquisition. Any forcible attempt would violate NATO’s founding principles and potentially trigger the EU’s mutual defense clause. The realistic American objective is expanded access and influence, not sovereignty transfer.

Q: How much would European strategic autonomy actually cost? A: The European Defence Agency estimates a €1.8 trillion investment gap since the Cold War. Closing this would require defense spending of 3-4% of GDP sustained over decades, compared to the current EU average of approximately 2%. The total cost depends on definitions of autonomy—full independence from American capabilities would cost significantly more than enhanced European contribution to NATO.

Q: Why can’t Europe just increase defense spending? A: Fiscal rules limit borrowing. Welfare state commitments consume available budgets. Electoral incentives favor social spending over defense. Industrial capacity cannot absorb rapid spending increases. Skills shortages constrain production. Each obstacle could theoretically be overcome, but overcoming all of them simultaneously across twenty-seven countries with different interests has proven impossible.

Q: What does Greenland actually want? A: Greater autonomy from Denmark, potentially leading to independence. The Greenlandic government has used great power competition to extract economic concessions while resisting both American acquisition and continued Danish control. Indigenous self-determination, not alignment with any external power, drives Greenlandic politics.

The Uncomfortable Truth

Europe faces a choice it has avoided for three decades. Strategic autonomy requires either fundamental reform of fiscal architecture and political priorities, or acceptance that the phrase describes aspiration rather than capability.

Trump’s Greenland gambit has not created this dilemma. It has merely made the dilemma visible to publics and politicians who preferred not to see it. The Arctic island, with its ice sheets and rare earth deposits and indigenous population, has become an accidental mirror reflecting European strategic pretensions back at European audiences.

The reflection is unflattering. Europe wants to be a strategic actor independent of American priorities. Europe is unwilling to pay the costs that independence requires. These facts will not change because an American president says something outrageous about buying an island.

What changes is the ability to pretend otherwise.

Sources & Further Reading

The analysis in this article draws on research and reporting from: