In a striking turn of events driven by geopolitics and history, Greenland and Denmark have put aside long-standing grievances rooted in centuries of colonial rule to present a united opposition to US President Donald Trump’s renewed interest in the Arctic island, sources say. The move marks an unusual alignment between Greenland’s autonomous government and Copenhagen as they confront external pressure that has reignited old wounds and raised questions about sovereignty, identity and strategic alliances.
The source of the current tension traces back to Trump’s controversial bid — publicly floated and forcefully articulated in recent months — to bring Greenland, a vast island with rich mineral resources and strategic value, under stronger US influence or control. While the US leader has claimed interest in acquiring Greenland through negotiation or security frameworks, Danish and Greenlandic officials have been clear that the island is not for sale and that its future decisions rest with Greenland and Denmark. Greenland’s prime minister even stated that if forced to choose between the United States and Denmark, his government would side with Copenhagen, underscoring the depth of their current alliance.
Despite this temporary unity, underlying historical grievances remain deeply felt among Greenlanders. For centuries, Greenland was a Danish colony before becoming fully integrated as part of the Kingdom of Denmark in 1953. It gained self-rule in 1979 and further autonomy in 2009, but memories of past injustices persist. Among the most painful are documented episodes in which Danish authorities subjected Inuit families to assimilationist policies. In 1951, 22 Inuit children were taken from their families and forbidden to speak their native language as part of an effort to cultivate a Danish-speaking elite, a policy later judged to be culturally destructive. Compensation was awarded decades later to the few survivors of that policy.
Another grievous chapter involved efforts from the 1960s onward, lasting roughly three decades, to reduce Greenland’s birth rate through widespread use of intrauterine devices (IUDs) fitted without consent. At least 4,000 women and teenage girls were affected, and many were left unable to conceive. Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen issued apologies to those affected, and compensation mechanisms are being put in place, but the legacy of these practices continues to compound Greenlanders’ sense of historical injustice.
The troubled history also includes controversial psychological assessments used by Danish social services to evaluate whether Greenlandic mothers were fit to parent their children, and studies that showed children born to Greenlandic families in mainland Denmark faced significantly higher risks of being placed in care than their Danish counterparts. Such practices have only recently been discontinued, but they remain a reminder of deep-seated inequalities and assimilationist pressures that have shaped modern relations between the two societies.
Yet, in the face of Trump’s assertive posture toward the island, Greenland’s political spectrum — which normally harbours differing visions for full independence — largely agreed to set aside their internal differences and form a coalition government in March 2025. Only one party advocating a fast track to independence remained outside this coalition. Experts note that European support for Denmark and Greenland’s stance has helped make the partnership feel less constraining for Greenlanders, reinforcing a shared purpose in countering what many view as a common external challenge.
This rare convergence between Denmark and Greenland highlights how geopolitical pressures can recalibrate historical relationships, even as questions about autonomy, colonial legacies and future aspirations continue to shape public discourse.
