Trump Turns Up the Heat: Demands Greenland, Threatens Europe With Tariffs

Paul Riverbank, 1/19/2026Trump's Greenland ambitions spark European tensions and surprise protests—even resonating at London basketball.

It’s a peculiar turn for what’s now become a tired headline: Greenland, that broad, icy stretch few Americans could properly find on a globe before 2019, is suddenly a political flashpoint. The reason? America’s commander-in-chief, Donald Trump, is adamant about buying—or controlling—it. His return to the White House has only sharpened his insistence. Citing security and “unmatched” strategic value, Trump claims the island sits atop crucial minerals and along fast-melting Arctic trade routes. He warns that China or Russia—depending on the day—will step in if the U.S. ignores the terrain.

This isn’t idle saber-rattling. Trump’s latest: tariffs. If Denmark won’t negotiate, he’ll slap a 10 percent tax on goods from nearly the entire northern flank of Europe—countries as diverse as Sweden, France and the Netherlands caught in the crossfire, along with Denmark and the more familiar powers. The tariff threat is explicit: unless Congress hands Greenland to the U.S.—though it's hard to picture how Congress could—the cost of doing business with America just climbed. “They are playing a dangerous game,” the president posted on Truth Social, “introducing risks the West can’t weather for long.”

Just why Greenland matters so much needs little embellishing. The word “frigid” doesn’t begin to describe the conditions, but below those ice sheets: rare earth minerals, uranium, perhaps oil. As the polar ice uncorks, busy shipping lanes are forming—right past Thule Air Base, a Pentagon outpost peering north. Military pessimists warn about encroaching Russian and Chinese interest; environmental realists wonder whether anyone should poke at the region at all.

Predictably, Europe responded in chorus. Denmark—flanked by its neighbors—issued a brisk joint statement: sovereignty is not for sale, and neither are the foundations of transatlantic partnerships. Behind-the-scenes, diplomats from Finland, Germany, the U.K., and others reinforced the message with a unity photo op that was almost as staged as it was necessary. Their tone, unusually blunt, made it clear they view any U.S. tariff as much a threat to NATO as to their own industries.

Not all on Capitol Hill cheer Trump’s approach. Discreet as ever, a handful of Republican senators have quietly voiced misgivings about testing “legal red lines” or deploying military force. The alliance with Denmark, they note, is older than most of their own careers and remains more reliable than the politics of the moment.

Meanwhile, Danish soldiers—some looking just out of university—posed for cameras as they disembarked in Nuuk. Their exercises, billed as routine, are anything but: a clear nod to any American eyes watching from afar.

So, how does a controversy over an icebound territory end up baffling a basketball crowd in London? Maybe it says more about the speed and reach of global politics than any diplomatic communiqué. The fan who shouted in support of Greenland had no vote, no skin in the Great Game, but plenty to say.

By day’s end, the basketball game was history; Williams left the court to applause, the players resumed their rivalry, and pundits spun new takes. But the big question—over a vast, sparsely populated island that hovers in between allegiances—remains tangled and loud. For now, as so often happens, a single unscripted voice cut through, and the world was briefly compelled to listen.

The O2 Arena wasn’t especially quiet—at least, not until Vanessa Williams took the stage. On Sunday night, with fans squinting down from their seats, she began the “Star-Spangled Banner” before a game between the Orlando Magic and Memphis Grizzlies. As her voice floated above the court, a sharp shout cracked the calm: “Leave Greenland alone!” In any other context, maybe that would be odd. Here, it earned more applause than irritation. For a strange, suspended moment, heads turned. Then the audience joined in, some clapping, a few repeating the cry. Williams stayed cool and finished her performance. No fumble, all focus.It’s a peculiar turn for what’s now become a tired headline: Greenland, that broad, icy stretch few Americans could properly find on a globe before 2019, is suddenly a political flashpoint. The reason? America’s commander-in-chief, Donald Trump, is adamant about buying—or controlling—it. His return to the White House has only sharpened his insistence. Citing security and “unmatched” strategic value, Trump claims the island sits atop crucial minerals and along fast-melting Arctic trade routes. He warns that China or Russia—depending on the day—will step in if the U.S. ignores the terrain.This isn’t idle saber-rattling. Trump’s latest: tariffs. If Denmark won’t negotiate, he’ll slap a 10 percent tax on goods from nearly the entire northern flank of Europe—countries as diverse as Sweden, France and the Netherlands caught in the crossfire, along with Denmark and the more familiar powers. The tariff threat is explicit: unless Congress hands Greenland to the U.S.—though it's hard to picture how Congress could—the cost of doing business with America just climbed. “They are playing a dangerous game,” the president posted on Truth Social, “introducing risks the West can’t weather for long.”Just why Greenland matters so much needs little embellishing. The word “frigid” doesn’t begin to describe the conditions, but below those ice sheets: rare earth minerals, uranium, perhaps oil. As the polar ice uncorks, busy shipping lanes are forming—right past Thule Air Base, a Pentagon outpost peering north. Military pessimists warn about encroaching Russian and Chinese interest; environmental realists wonder whether anyone should poke at the region at all.Predictably, Europe responded in chorus. Denmark—flanked by its neighbors—issued a brisk joint statement: sovereignty is not for sale, and neither are the foundations of transatlantic partnerships. Behind-the-scenes, diplomats from Finland, Germany, the U.K., and others reinforced the message with a unity photo op that was almost as staged as it was necessary. Their tone, unusually blunt, made it clear they view any U.S. tariff as much a threat to NATO as to their own industries.Not all on Capitol Hill cheer Trump’s approach. Discreet as ever, a handful of Republican senators have quietly voiced misgivings about testing “legal red lines” or deploying military force. The alliance with Denmark, they note, is older than most of their own careers and remains more reliable than the politics of the moment.Meanwhile, Danish soldiers—some looking just out of university—posed for cameras as they disembarked in Nuuk. Their exercises, billed as routine, are anything but: a clear nod to any American eyes watching from afar.So, how does a controversy over an icebound territory end up baffling a basketball crowd in London? Maybe it says more about the speed and reach of global politics than any diplomatic communiqué. The fan who shouted in support of Greenland had no vote, no skin in the Great Game, but plenty to say.By day’s end, the basketball game was history; Williams left the court to applause, the players resumed their rivalry, and pundits spun new takes. But the big question—over a vast, sparsely populated island that hovers in between allegiances—remains tangled and loud. For now, as so often happens, a single unscripted voice cut through, and the world was briefly compelled to listen.