On January 21, US President Donald Trump reiterated his demand to annex Greenland. He denied wanting to use force and spoke of a negotiated solution. It remains to be seen what further consequences will result from the obstinacy of a US president who, after the operation to capture Nicolás Maduro in Venezuela, stated bluntly: “I don’t need international law. My personal morality is the only thing that limits me.” His reformulated claims in Davos on Greenland confirm a logic of conquest that has made an ancestral territory needing to be preserved into a tradeable asset to be acquired and removed from Russian and Chinese competition. Greenland—like Ukraine, Taiwan and Venezuela—has become the symbol of a neo-imperial vision that reduces every land to an instrument of power.
The Arctic is an ancestral region in which a higher interest should prevail. Here, limits are revealed in all the fragility of the climate and life, and what is at stake is not the interests of States but the collective rights of the human community. But the narrative surrounding the Arctic is no longer one of environmental protection and scientific cooperation. Russian presence, Chinese interest, and economic competition are seen as sufficient justifications for its militarization. It is true that beneath the ice lies a reality of extraordinary strategic and economic value: according to estimates by the US Geological Survey, the Arctic contains approximately 13% of the world’s undiscovered oil resources and 30% of undiscovered natural gas, as well as deposits of rare earth minerals and metals essential for energy transition and 21st-century technologies.
The US base at Pituffik (formerly Thule Air Base) on the northwest coast of Greenland is a central hub for US missile defence and space surveillance, coordinated with the North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD), a strategic early warning system that also covers Europe. The melting ice has become a strategic factor: new shipping routes, such as the Northern Sea Route, reduce transport time and costs between Europe and Asia. Russia is investing in port infrastructure and icebreakers, while China has integrated the Arctic route into its “Polar Silk Road”, extending its economic and geopolitical reach.
Europe torn between the right of power and the power of right
Europe made a necessary choice by avoiding escalating confrontation with Trump while defending Denmark’s sovereignty and Greenland’s right to self-determination. However, it is legitimate to question whether the appropriate language and perspective have really been identified. The European Arctic strategy, while invoking sustainability and research, remains heavily inspired by security logic and strategic investments, which risk exacerbating competition and militarization in the Arctic. This may be justified by the challenges of Russia’s and China’s quest for dominance, and now by Trump’s threats, but Europe should have the moral strength to promote exactly the opposite language, transforming power into law, and force into cooperation. The European Union should not accept that the Arctic be absorbed exclusively into the scope of military competition between blocs, abandoning its historical vocation as a normative space of peace and law.
The Arctic, a moral red line
The voices of the Arctic’s indigenous peoples must be heard. Their cultures—historically peaceful and deeply connected to nature—remind us that a different relationship with the land is possible. Land law in Greenland does not recognize private ownership in the traditional Western sense: land cannot be bought or sold, but is a collective asset managed by public authorities. This legal framework is rooted both in modern institutional organization and Inuit tradition, which views the territory as a shared resource. Individuals may have usage rights, sometimes long-term, but never absolute ownership rights over the land itself.
International law recognized these values in 2007 in the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which affirms their right to “maintain and strengthen their distinct spiritual relationship with their traditionally owned or otherwise occupied and used lands, territories, waters and coastal seas” and to participate freely in decisions that affect them in full knowledge of the facts. For these communities, the Arctic represents a moral red line, where human action clearly needs non-negotiable limits, since every intervention has profound consequences for the climate, biological balance and cultural survival of the communities that live there.
We are seeing rampant acceptance of rejecting not only international law but also the most basic moral constraints that should guide human coexistence. The earth should not be treated as a thing, an object of prey, but as the site of a profound relationship between peoples, ecosystems, and generations. As early as 1795, the philosopher Immanuel Kant warned in his essay Perpetual Peace that every community and every place should be based on the inviolable dignity of each person and on universal responsibility for the common good. This is the “common heritage of humanity” principle articulated by diplomat Arvid Pardo in 1970 for international seabed areas and subsequently developed in other contexts, notably by UNESCO in the 1972 World Heritage Convention. At its core is the idea that certain resources and territories cannot be appropriated, but belong to all of humanity. Lawyer Luigi Ferrajoli put forward a similar argument in his proposal for a “Constitution of the Earth”, identifying “common resources” governed by supranational regulation to preserve them or guarantee their use by all—an approach already reflected in the law of the sea and outer space.
Antarctica, an advanced model of collective governance
To understand how international law has concretely addressed these principles for extreme territories, it is useful to refer to the Antarctic Treaty, which came into force in 1961 and is one of the most advanced models of collective governance and common heritage. The treaty affirms that it is “in the interest of all mankind that Antarctica should continue to be used exclusively for peaceful purposes and not become the scene or object of international discord”, thus guaranteeing freedom of scientific research and cooperation. The Madrid Protocol, which came into force in 1998, reinforced this protection, designating Antarctica as a “natural reserve, dedicated to peace and science”, requiring that all activities limit negative environmental impacts and prohibiting the exploitation of mineral resources.
The Arctic remains a “grey area”
The Arctic, on the other hand, remains a “grey area”. No equivalent protocol exists, sovereignty is fragmented, and natural resources are the subject of intense competition. The current framework of the Arctic Council and the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) certainly aims to promote cooperation and environmental protection, but it has not prevented militarization and intensive exploitation.
This is where a forward-looking European vision could make a decisive difference. An international convention for the Arctic, inspired by the Antarctic model and respectful of local populations, could establish progressive demilitarization, international scientific governance, increased protection of ecosystems and recourse to the International Court of Justice for dispute settlement. This would not only be a political act, it would also be an ethical commitment—a recognition that certain parts of the world exist to remind us of our limits, and that respecting those limits is essential to building peace.
Europe’s anti-coercion weapon
Some might argue that Europe lacks the strength to promote such an initiative, especially when it appears to be hesitating in the face of Trump’s threat, suspended in Davos but which could be reactivated, to immediately impose 10% tariffs on European countries that oppose his “acquisition” of Greenland. This view overlooks the broader global context, particularly that of a marginalized Global South, which shares Europe’s interest in avoiding subservience to new predators. Nor is it true that Europe lacks instruments of pressure with regard to the United States. From a strictly legal point of view, since 2023 the European Union (EU) has had an explicit tool to respond: the Anti-Coercion Instrument. It allows the EU to respond to trade threats aimed at influencing sovereign decisions of member States, including by restricting imports or access to public procurement for companies from the coercive country.
The United States itself recognizes that Europe remains one of the pillars of the US economy: European institutional investors, pension funds and savers are among the largest foreign holders of US public debt, contributing structurally to the stability of the dollar and the US financial system. This interdependence provides the EU with leverage that could be used to support its foreign policy positions, whether on Ukraine or Greenland. Beyond that, the current European debate on issuing Eurobonds for defence purposes has clear strategic implications: it signals to a recalcitrant US administration that cooperation with the EU is preferable to the emergence of a credible alternative monetary and financial hub that could erode the supremacy of the dollar.
In short, European countries have both the contractual power and, above all, the international reputation of a “community of peace and law” to demand respect—even from a US president whose domestic legitimacy is itself increasingly contested. Europe can therefore take a strong diplomatic initiative to confront anyone who threatens the fundamental principles of international law, including the concept of common resources. Scientific cooperation, glacier protection, and shared and regulated resource management are increasingly becoming instruments of global responsibility and conflict prevention.
Only by recognizing the universal value of the Arctic can we transform the fragility of its ice into hope, and the logic of power into the constraint of global justice.
Maurizio Delli Santi is a lawyer and analyst affiliated with the International Law Association and the International Society for Military Law and the Law of War in Brussels. He has held positions as a lecturer in international criminal law and international humanitarian law. He has worked in the international legal sections of the Italian Defence Ministry, dealing with implementation of the International Criminal Court Statute. Delli Santi has also participated as an Italian government representative in the Hague Diplomatic Conference on the Second Additional Protocol to the Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict (1999), as well as at the UNESCO Conference in Paris on the involvement of children in armed conflict (2000).
