Map by Samuel Granados.
Greenland’s Big Moment
Ignored for most of its existence, the huge ice-bound island has been thrust into a geopolitical maelstrom. It’s trying to make the most of it.
Listen to this article · 13:47 min Learn more
Jeffrey GettlemanIvor Prickett
By Jeffrey GettlemanPhotographs by Ivor Prickett
Jeffrey Gettleman and Ivor Prickett spent 12 days reporting across Greenland.
Feb. 20, 2025, 5:01 a.m. ET
Above the harbor, where little boats splattered with fish blood putter back to shore and men with ice-encrusted mustaches butcher seals, sits a two-story building where Palle Jeremiassen works. He is the mayor of Ilulissat, a small town in the Arctic Circle, and he’s got a busy day.
Howling winds just wiped out the path to the best ice-fishing spot and the fishermen, some of whom still stomp around in pants made of polar-bear fur, are getting upset.
In another settlement farther north, the ice is too thin to cross. Greenlanders call this “young ice,” and it shouldn’t be this young this deep into winter — another worrying sign of climate change. Unless Mayor Jeremiassen quickly organizes emergency shipments by helicopter, the villagers who usually cruise around on snowmobiles and dog sleds could run out of food.
Out here on the western coast of Greenland, ice defines life. The endless snowfields glitter with millions of ice crystals. A skyline of sapphire icebergs rises from the semi-frozen sea. But something even bigger is occupying the mayor’s mind at the moment, and that of many people here. It boils down to one word: Trump.
ADVERTISEMENT
SKIP ADVERTISEMENT
Denmark, which once colonized Greenland, still oversees many of its affairs. But now President Trump says the United States will take over Greenland, and he has not ruled out using force to do so.
“What can we do when he comes?” the mayor asks. “We will not be Americans. We don’t want to be Europeans. We want to be Greenlandic.”
ImageA bird flies over huge masses of ice.
On the western coast of Greenland, ice defines life.
Image
Several people work on boats in an icy harbor.
Fishermen unloaded their catch at the Halibut Greenland fish processing plant in Ilulisaat.
That’s the refrain that echoed across Greenland during a nearly two-week trip in which New York Times journalists traveled by plane, boat, jeep, snowmobile and dog sled, speaking to dozens of Greenlanders from bartenders and fishermen to the political class. We asked them what they thought about Mr. Trump’s covetousness and his confidence that Greenlanders “want to be with us.”
The consensus was clear: Greenlanders feel they have been under Danish control for too long and they don’t want a new colonial master, especially a bigger and bossier one. A recent poll showed that 85 percent of the tiny population of 56,000 don’t want to be part of the United States. Still, many people expressed a desire to forge a closer relationship to Washington.
These competing tensions have thrust Greenland — a vast, enigmatic island that drew little attention for most of its existence — into an extraordinary geopolitical maelstrom it cannot control. The situation has deeply rattled Europe, which is now also alarmed by Mr. Trump’s warm embrace of Russia, and could carry consequences that go far beyond Greenland.
Denmark is anxious over a possible showdown. Europe’s leaders, alarmed at the president’s suggestion that he might take Greenland by force, have responded by lining up behind Denmark. France even offered to send in troops.
Superpowers like the United States, Russia and China are assessing the military and economic opportunities in the Arctic waterways around Greenland, and jockeying for position.
At the same time, there’s a sudden fever for the island’s untapped mineral resources. Major American investors, including Trump allies, are involved with companies prospecting nickel, iron and rare earth elements, even though much of it is trapped far under frozen ground or ice (in some parts of Greenland, the ice is two miles thick). China has set its sights on Greenland’s mineral riches, too, and Greenlanders aren’t used to feeling like everyone wants a piece of them.
They’re part of a wider Inuit community stretching from Russia across Alaska and Canada where many people still follow a traditional life, hunting seals and the occasional whale and scraping a living from one of the most hostile environments on the planet. They have long felt marginalized and disrespected, and their resentment has been steadily building toward their former colonial overseers, the Danes, who first came to the island in 1721 and still control its foreign policy, defense and police forces.
Image
A statue stands on a hilltop with numerous snow-covered buildings in the distance.
A statue commemorating Hans Egede, the Danish missionary who founded Nuuk in 1728, on a hill overlooking the town.
Image
Palle Jeremiassen stands inside a room with a print and several posters on the walls.
“We will not be Americans,” said Palle Jeremiassen, the mayor of Ilulisaat. “We don’t want to be Europeans. We want to be Greenlandic.”
Now that Mr. Trump has declared his intentions to control the island, Greenlanders are extracting some major concessions from the Danes, whom Mr. Trump keeps ridiculing.
“They put two dog sleds there two weeks ago,” Mr. Trump said recently, referring to Denmark’s efforts to safeguard Greenland. “They thought that was protection.”
Even though many Greenlanders said they are not fans of Mr. Trump, they enjoy watching him push Denmark around. In interviews, they expressed confidence that this would ultimately help them get a sovereign state of their own — something no other Inuit community has achieved — unless America swallows them first.
ADVERTISEMENT
SKIP ADVERTISEMENT
“Everyone I know is saying, ‘This is all so hilarious, it’s all so absurd, but it’s also so nice,’” said Svend Hardenberg, a mining executive and, more recently, a star in a hot Danish Netflix series that, serendipitously, had a whole season about Greenland.
“There’s going to be a lot of people trying to sway us, this way or that,” he said. “So now we have to figure how to do the best for ourselves, to really see what the U.S. and Denmark can offer.”
“This,” he added, “is our moment.”
The Political Question
One afternoon last month in Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, Kuno Fencker, a member of Parliament, marched out of a news conference, the frustration showing on his face. Greenland’s prime minister, Múte B. Egede, had ducked a question about independence, refusing to answer clearly why the government should not push for it now.
Mr. Fencker wants Greenland to start divorce negotiations with Denmark immediately.
“Why shouldn’t we be a part of the global world?” he asked. “Why are we not allowed to become members of the U.N.? Why shouldn’t we be able to be members of the international organizations regarding our fisheries, whales, everything? Why is it that a Danish guy or woman in Denmark has to decide that?”
He spoke from his office, a modern, clean-lined Scandinavian-designed building, as a bulldozer outside his window lifted away chunks of snow. Nuuk’s streets and sidewalks were coated in ice, and newcomers, including me, needed to strap plastic spikes on our boots to keep from suddenly finding ourselves airborne. Greenlanders, meanwhile, tramped quietly across the same sidewalks as if they were strolling across a carpet.
Mr. Fencker recently returned from Washington, where he managed to finagle a tour of the West Wing. He’s part of Greenland’s small pro-Trump group, which helped organize a visit by Donald Trump Jr. in January.
Image
A person pulls a fish out from a hole in the ice.
Greenlanders are part of a wider Inuit community in which many people still follow a traditional life.
Image
A person cuts through a piece of whale fin on a table with several other meat dishes in a room where people are sitting at several tables.
Cutting a piece of whale fin to eat at a Kaffemik, a traditional Greenlandic gathering.
Rival politicians were quick to call him a traitor and there is a contingent of Greenlandic politicians who are wary of Mr. Trump, seeing him as imperious and unpredictable. But Mr. Fencker says that engaging with the Trump team is “necessary if Greenland wants to take its future into its own hands.”
Like many Greenlanders, he believes the island should become independent. But just as important, he and many other Greenlanders argue, is establishing their own close relationship with the United States. They believe this will open up more opportunities for investment and trade and ensure that no other country like Russia or China will cause trouble for them.
The hope among Mr. Fencker’s camp is that when Greenland breaks free from Denmark, it will sign a free association agreement with Washington, similar to what the United States has arranged with the Marshall Islands, Micronesia and Palau, three small independent countries in the South Pacific that rely heavily on American military protection and millions of dollars in subsidies.
That scenario is different from Mr. Trump’s insistence that America should simply take over. He hasn’t fully explained his fixation on Greenland, which goes back to his first term, when he unsuccessfully tried to buy it from Denmark, except to say that it’s important for “economic security” and “freedom throughout the world.” No one really knows what kind of arrangement Mr. Trump would ultimately accept.
As it is, the island gets some American protection: There’s a small U.S. base in the north with around 150 personnel focused on missile defense and space surveillance.
But researchers say that the Arctic region is warming at nearly four times the pace of the rest of the planet, and as the polar ice melts, this whole area is becoming more accessible — and more contested. This includes the shipping lanes around Greenland coveted by Russia and China.
Denmark keeps stressing that Greenland is entitled to determine its own fate. Under Danish and Greenlandic law, the island has the right to hold a referendum on independence. And there’s a simple reason it hasn’t yet.
Greenland’s economy is small, based mostly on fishing and still dependent on Denmark for hundreds of millions of dollars in assistance each year. That money pays for good roads, cheap gas, nice schools and free medical care, a Scandinavian standard of living that many Greenlanders are reluctant to give up.
Image
A car drives along a narrow road in near darkness.
The entire 800,000-square mile island has under 100 miles of paved roads.
Image
A person walks through a several-story room with floor-to-ceiling windows and several round tables with chairs.
The Mathias Storch junior school in Ilulisaat. Danish money pays for good roads, cheap gas, nice schools and free medical care, a Scandinavian standard of living that many Greenlanders are reluctant to give up.
“We are fortunate here,” said Finn Damgaard, a retired office worker who was warming up the other day on a bench in one of Nuuk’s few malls. The weather was horrendous — vicious winds and subzero temperatures — and he was taking a break on his way to the library.
He said he had learned, by reading and watching TV, about inequality in America and the way Inuit people have been treated in Alaska.
“It’s not good,” he said.
Like others, Mr. Damgaard believes Greenland should pursue independence — but not right now.
“I don’t think we’re ready yet,” he said. “We need to develop a form of income.”
His answer: mining.
Greenland’s Mines
“Greenland is like a paradise for geologists,” said Qupanuk Olsen, a Greenlander who wears many hats — mining engineer, social media influencer, mother, hunter, shaman-follower. “We have gold, we have iron, we have titanium, we have even diamonds,” she said. “We have rubies. We have rare earth elements. We have uranium. We have so many minerals. But the thing is, they’re not profitable at this moment because of the infrastructure.”
Image
Two people look out the window of a green shed-like structure in the snow.
A young Inuit girl and her mother waiting inside a bus shelter in Nuuk.
Image
Two people sit at a wooden table in a room with a set of shelves and a fur rug.
“Greenland is like a paradise for geologists,” said Qupanuk Olsen, a Greenlander who wears many hats — mining engineer, social media influencer, mother, hunter, shaman-follower.
The few ports in Greenland are often blocked by ice. The entire 800,000-square mile island has less than 100 miles of paved roads. Many promising mining areas are so hard to reach that it’s extremely difficult simply drilling for samples, let alone getting loaded ships out of ports boxed in by icebergs.
Still, some international mining companies are trying. Lumina, owned by European and Canadian investment firms, is digging out anorthosite, a grayish mineral used in paints and glass fibers.
Several hundred miles up the west coast from Nuuk sits Disko Island, where KoBold, a mining start-up backed by investments from Jeff Bezos and Bill Gates, among other billionaires, has explored for nickel.
Another player is Critical Metals Corporation, which has a rare earth mine in southern Greenland and has drawn a significant investment from the New York financial firm Cantor Fitzgerald. Howard Lutnick, Mr. Trump’s commerce secretary, has been the firm’s chief executive for years.
