They’re masters of the waiting game in Greenland. They have to be to survive such a hostile climate. Wild weather frequently disrupts flights or sea journeys on the Arctic island, where there are no roads connecting towns.
The Greenlandic language reflects such uncertainty – no word means “see you later”. “Takussamaarpugut” translates to “I hope to see you at an undetermined point”.
But like the midnight sun and bone-rattling blizzards, Greenlanders find themselves waiting out another irritant – four more years of US President Donald Trump, who has upped the ante on his 2019 bid to buy Greenland, citing national security.
Greenlanders won’t be won over easily.
Trump’s refusal to rule out using military force to annex the autonomous Danish territory turbocharged this year’s Greenland election campaign and public debate around independence. Shy and reserved Greenlanders suddenly found themselves in the international spotlight as Donald Trump Jr jetted into Nuuk to lunch with the homeless, ahead of his father’s inauguration.
March’s election saw the largest international press pack ever descend on Greenland. Weeks later, Vice President JD Vance dropped in to the US Pituffik Space Base, home to an early warning missile radar system, to deliver a snarky lecture to Denmark about neglecting Greenland’s security. (The irony of the shrinking US military presence in Greenland was lost on him. The base has 150 military personnel, down from 10,000 during the Cold War.)
Vance, whose wife cancelled an uninvited visit to a Greenlandic dog sled race because of an expected frosty reception, invoked a Beijing bogeyman in his pitch to Greenlanders: “If the people of Greenland have their future controlled by the Chinese Communist Party, it’s not going to make their lives better off.”
But Greenlanders won’t be won over easily – a poll found 85 per cent do not want to join the United States. As Ulrik Pram Gad from the Danish Institute of International Studies pointed out: “Why would Greenlanders take a deal from Trump that gives them less than they already have? Why would Trump-the-deal-maker want to pay huge subsidies on a welfare state he does not want for his taxpayers at home to secure mining rights and military control that he already has for free?”
The United States already has something close to “full military sovereignty over Greenland”. This is in part thanks to the exploits of a rogue Danish envoy to Washington during the Second World War (depicted in the 2020 film The Good Traitor).
On my recent 12-day visit to Greenland, it appeared the initial panic about an imminent invasion had subsided. Greenlanders were relieved that tariff chaos and multiple diplomatic crises were keeping Trump distracted.
Out on the streets, there were occasional reminders of the drama. I spotted one Danish tourist in a red MAGA – Make America Go Away – hat. And at local fashion label Bibi Chemnitz streetwear store in Nuuk, “Greenland is not for sale” t-shirts and hoodies have sold out twice this summer.
There are enormous structural economic challenges for the island with a scattered population of 56,000.
“Not for sale, but open for business” is a favourite maxim of Greenlandic politicians. This is because in order to gain independence from Denmark, Greenland must diversify its economy.
“There is too little focus on developing a self-sustaining economy and too much focus on dreaming about independence as something that just falls from the sky,” a long-time observer of Greenlandic politics lamented during my travels.
There are enormous structural economic challenges for the island with a scattered population of 56,000, according to Aarhus University professor and economist Torben Andersen, who chairs the Economic Council for Greenland. The economic base is narrow – fishing is to Greenland what oil is to Norway. A block grant equivalent to A$1.08 billion from Denmark makes up around 50 per cent of treasury revenue.
The territory is also contending with a brain drain, an ageing population and a declining birth rate. Sixty per cent of the workforce is unskilled labour, and there is practically full employment and a growing dependency on foreign workers. There are hopes that tourism and mining can bring future prosperity. But there are handbrakes on both – including a lack of hotel capacity, major infrastructure deficits, and borderline business cases for many mining projects.
“Raw materials are at a standstill,” according to Danmarks Nationalbank and a Perth junior miner’s rare earth Kvanefjeld project is mired in a legal dispute because of a zero tolerance for uranium extraction, even as a by-product.
For Denmark, Trump’s interest has been a wake-up call. Copenhagen’s adage, “one kroner spent in Greenland is one kroner not spent in Denmark,” no longer holds weight.
Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen doesn’t want the kingdom to crumble on her watch. Cue major defence spending announcement, justice sector boost, an action plan to combat racism and a sudden proactive willingness to fund infrastructure projects. (Contrast this with Denmark’s reactive 2018 funding for three international airports to keep out Chinese investment.)
Greenland’s new Prime Minister Jens-Frederik Nielsen, 33, from the centre-right pro-business party Democrats, is a former badminton champion. He will need to be nimble as he confronts the task of governing, economic reform and the fallout from the Trump spectacle.
Nielsen, who backs gradual independence, is leading a fragile coalition of four parties – comprised Democrats, Inuit Ataqatigiit, Siumut, and Atassut – spread across the political spectrum. On the opposition benches is Naleraq, which wants rapid independence.
For Nielsen, the Trump crisis is a sticky wicket. Although Greenland suddenly has leverage over Denmark, many are wary of being “scared back into the arms” of the former coloniser.
“Mette Frederiksen ate Jens-Frederik Nielsen, and he said thank you,” is a phrase you hear around Greenlandic political circles.
While older Greenlanders have a strong appreciation for cross-cultural family bonds and educational opportunities from Denmark, youngsters I met expressed frustrations over a Danish sense of superiority and whitewashing of the past. Three hundred years of Danish colonial legacy is yet to be fully unpacked. An investigation is underway into past abuse incidents, including stolen children and 4500 Greenlandic women being involuntarily fitted with birth control devices in the 1960s and 1970s. But reconciliation efforts have been at a snail’s pace.
“There’s so much trauma we have to heal from post-colonialism,” a Disko Island man in his 30s told me, adding that the story of intergenerational trauma can be seen in Greenland's drug and alcohol abuse and family violence statistics.
Despite many youngsters’ yearnings for an independent Greenland, there is also pragmatism. If Greenland pulls the plug on Denmark too early, there’s a fear of being “recolonised” by the United States.
“We have the will, but not the manpower,” an Ilulissat woman in her 20s told me.
“Maybe it takes 30 to 40 years.”
As they say in Greenland: “Ajunngilaq” – it is what it is.
Lisa Martin travelled to Greenland as a guest of Intrepid Travel.
