President-elect Donald Trump is delightfully adept at goosing the sense and sensibilities of Europe’s hoary political class.
Enter Greenland, Denmark, and the 1917 Convention Between the United States and Denmark for the Cession of the Danish West Indies.
No, this isn’t the title of an obscure documentary film, but a real piece of history that Trump — who is somehow both a real estate mogul and possibly unprofessed history buff — decided to resurrect in his own, unique way.
The Europeans, of course, are having none of "make Greenland great again." Germany and France are warning Trump against any attempt to “move borders by force” after the president-elect said he was prepared to slap tariffs and referenced military force to control Greenland.
“We’ve entered an era that’s seeing the return of the strongest,” fretted French Foreign Minister Jean-Noël Barrot. “There’s no question of the EU letting other nations in the world, whoever they may be, attack its sovereign borders.”
“Incomprehensible,” added German Chancellor Olaf Scholz. “The principle of the inviolability of borders applies to every country, regardless of whether it’s east of us or to the west, and every state must respect that, regardless of whether it’s a small country or a very powerful state.”
It all started in August 2019, when Trump, as president, floated the idea of buying Greenland. Not a small piece of land, mind you, but an entire autonomous territory of Denmark. And if you’re wondering why, just ask Trump: “It’s a fantastic deal, folks. Big league. Beautiful location. A huge asset. A lot of real estate there.”
Greenland, an icy wasteland the size of about 650,000 square miles (roughly the size of the entire U.S. East Coast), is one of the world’s largest unincorporated territories.
It’s got glaciers, icebergs, and a lot of reindeer. The weather? Freezing cold year-round. In other words, it’s the type of property that only the most visionary of real estate moguls would consider purchasing. After all, who wouldn’t want to own a place where the idea of a summer home involves a coat and the occasional polar bear?
The only problem? Greenland doesn’t really want to be sold. In fact, Greenlanders did what any reasonable landowner would do: they told Trump to stay home.
Not in the diplomatic sense, mind you, but in the “please don’t try to buy our country” sense. It was awkward.
Imagine trying to buy a neighbor’s house, only to find out they’re not selling, and then you keep insisting. That’s Trump’s approach to diplomacy in a nutshell: more persistence than politeness.
But Trump, being an enterprising businessman, wasn’t deterred. He repeated his offer. In fact, he was so keen on the deal that he considered not just Greenland, but the whole package - Denmark, Greenland, and anything else that might be lying around in the chilly North Atlantic.
If Trump had his way, there’d be a luxury golf course on every mountain, and perhaps a Trump Tower in Nuuk, the capital of Greenland.
Now, let’s rewind the clock a little and show why Denmark and Greenland’s 56,865 citizens might hop aboard the Trump train.
The United States, under President Woodrow Wilson, already made a historic purchase from Denmark in 1917. No, this wasn’t Greenland.
It was the Danish West Indies, a collection of islands in the Caribbean (modern-day U.S. Virgin Islands). The United States, hot on expanding its influence in the Caribbean, swooped in and paid Denmark $25 million for the islands. That’s the equivalent of about $500 million today – roughly the price of a mid-sized Trump hotel, or one of his golf courses.
However…Denmark wasn’t all that keen on selling. The islands had been in their possession for centuries, but after a series of failed plantation economies and an inconvenient slave revolt in 1848, Denmark realized it wasn’t exactly making a fortune off its tropical outpost.
Plus, the islands were strategically important, and Denmark could use the cash. So, like any good businessman – or, in this case, a nation trying to avoid another costly colonial headache – it sold them to the United States.
The Treaty of Cession was signed, and thus, the Virgin Islands became American territory. The deal was made. The checks cleared. And Denmark moved on to more pressing matters, like coping with its terrible weather and trying to explain to everyone that, no, it didn’t have any other islands for sale.
Fast forward 100 years to Trump’s offer for Greenland. Suddenly, Denmark – whose government is perhaps more in tune with the concept of “not trying to sell entire chunks of their nation to anyone with a billion-dollar portfolio” – had to deal with another presidential pitch from the United States.
It was like a bad sequel. The first time, Denmark sold an island group that had become a burden. The second time, Trump was trying to buy an island three times the size of Texas and 12,000 percent colder than Florida. The offer was so outlandish, it had diplomats scrambling for the nearest hot shower.
(Psst…caveat emptor, Mr. President. The 1916 treaty states the U.S. would “not object to the Danish government extending (its) political and economic interests to the whole of Greenland,” because the purchase of the Virgin Islands was more important, particularly because of the nearby Panama Canal.)
But in the end, what was learned from this little episode – aside from the fact that Greenland isn’t yet up for sale – is that historians might well someday compare Donald Trump to Huckleberry Finn, arguably America’s most celebrated rebellious outsider and effective disruptor of norms.
Trump’s Greenland saga isn’t just about real estate. It’s a masterclass in how to capture the world’s attention, while focusing on the region’s vast natural resources and strategic value to the United States. Those who think Trump’s Greenland gambit is an illustration of a billionaire with zero geopolitical knowledge wading into foreign policy with the subtlety of a wrecking ball is whistling past the graveyard.
Or as Huck described the scene, “there was things that he stretched, but mainly he told the truth.”