Europeans expected tough debates with Trump over tariffs, burden-sharing and trade policy. These disagreements were part of the alliance’s usual politics. Greenland, which came after a year in which Trump had belittled and repeatedly criticized them, fell into a completely different category.
By Dan PERRY
As Iran and the United States move toward some kind of resolution to the war, what is already clear is that there will be no capitulation in which Iran gives up its nuclear weapons, missiles, and proxy militias while undertaking democratic reforms at home. All President Donald Trump hopes to achieve is the reopening of the Strait of Hormuz, which was open before the war, and a nuclear deal that is no better than Barack Obama’s. If that is the case, then it would be a monumental departure from the original objectives of the war—when there was even hope for regime collapse—and a strategic Iranian victory. And, in part, that was because when Trump needed Europe during the Iran crisis, Europe simply wasn’t there for him. And that was crucial. After about six weeks of relentless bombing, with key leaders killed and its military crippled, Iran entered negotiations with surprising confidence and stubbornness. This is because Iran discovered that closing the vital Strait of Hormuz – something completely predictable and clearly not properly planned – could be an extremely effective asymmetric maneuver.
This plunged the world into chaos, but it did not unite the world against Iran. When the Iranian leadership looked beyond the negotiating table, it saw not global isolation but a fractured Western alliance. European governments seemed distrustful of Washington and unwilling to fully align themselves with an American strategy of escalation. Gulf allies seemed nervous and exposed. Tehran saw the discord and adjusted its calculations.
Now, the framework of the deal being formed with Iran reflects that weakness. The agreement taking shape seems likely to leave intact Iran’s remaining missile infrastructure, avoid a serious confrontation with Tehran’s proxy architecture throughout the Region, and sidestep the issue of domestic democracy entirely. At the same time, Iran could gain significant sanctions relief and access to tens of billions of dollars worth of frozen assets. Tehran has weathered the punishment and yet managed to retain key instruments of power. The roots of this destructive Western discord lie not in Tehran, Hormuz, or the oil markets, but in Greenland. Trump’s threats to use force to take Greenland, whether for its mineral wealth or access to the Arctic, marked the moment when many European governments decided that the US was essentially no longer an ally – at least not as long as Trump is around.
The issue was not really about whether America would literally invade Danish territory. European officials largely dismissed the threats as typical Trumpian theater, but they also saw them as evidence that this White House does not understand the political foundations of the Western alliance. The shift had major strategic consequences. At several strategic meetings this year, including the World Economic Forum Annual Meeting and the Munich Security Conference, Greenland loomed over private discussions among diplomats, ministers, military officials, and political scientists. The same was true at several conferences on geopolitics and strategy that I recently attended in Europe. The issue carried an unusual intensity because it touched on a fundamental assumption of the post-World War II order: NATO allies do not threaten each other for territory, even in jest. Because the weakening of the alliance brings very real consequences regarding their main concern, which is containing Russia and, to a lesser extent, containing China on the issue of Taiwan.
Europeans expected tough debates with Trump over tariffs, burden-sharing and trade policy. These disagreements were part of the alliance’s usual politics. Greenland, which came after a year in which Trump had belittled and repeatedly criticized them, fell into a completely different category. The mistake reflected a profound strategic failure: not seeing the essence of American influence. American power, after World War II, rested partly on economic and military dominance, but also on the belief that Washington operated within a stable framework of alliance rules and mutual respect among allies.
Through NATO – which actually costs the American taxpayer only about half a billion dollars a year – America secured major arms exports, access to dozens of bases in Europe and beyond, and leadership of the free world. Yet Trump seemed unaware of this, or unconcerned. The sheer shock of it shaped Europe’s approach to Iran. From Washington’s perspective, Greenland and Hormuz were separate files. From Europe’s perspective, they were intertwined. A government willing to openly pressure Denmark on territorial issues could no longer expect its allies to automatically trust its judgment regarding escalation in the Persian Gulf.
This is not to say that European governments supported Iran. Quite the contrary. Most European governments remain deeply concerned about Iran’s nuclear ambitions, Regional destabilization, and threats to maritime security. They share many of Washington’s objectives. But trust matters in managing alliances. And trust disappeared after Greenland. The misunderstanding became clear when the US administration seemed genuinely surprised by the caution and hesitation it encountered from European governments during discussions about a joint response to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz. It may have been a mistake on the Europeans’ part – in fact, NATO chief Mark Rutte seems to think so – but European leaders saw every American demand through a new lens: the administration is a black-faced player. So while European governments continued to want maritime stability and deterrence in the Persian Gulf, they sought only tighter commitments, legal constraints, and operational autonomy vaguely outlined by Washington. Some governments even began discussing ways to reduce exposure to escalation scenarios shaped largely by American decision-making.
Iran noticed. And it also understood that the Gulf states, most of which hate the Islamic Republic’s regime, felt that the United States was not prepared to defend them from missiles launched just a few dozen miles from Iranian territory. The current Iranian leadership understood that Washington was looking for a way out and that the Gulf states had, for the time being, given up on aspirations for regime change, seeking the tranquility that is vital to their economic model: attracting Western business to a glittering oasis, not a war zone. A united Western stance might have produced a different outcome. A cohesive NATO alliance could have increased diplomatic and economic pressure on Tehran while strengthening deterrence in the Persian Gulf. Instead, Iran faced a fragmented strategic landscape and exploited it skillfully.
At this point, there were three ways the situation could play out: – Resuming the war: Massive, relentless attacks to truly cripple the regime, this time without a set deadline and including oil infrastructure so that the regime would not think it could withstand the attack by waiting – no matter what political damage Trump might suffer in the midterm elections. – Continuing the blockade: Yes, the regime would eventually be economically crushed, but this could take many months, if not a year, and the global economy would enter a recession, accompanied by potentially permanent disruptions to supply chains. – Accepting Iran’s terms: A nuclear weapons deal in exchange for massive sanctions relief and the unlocking of assets that would keep the regime afloat, destroy the Iranian opposition, and be no improvement over the 2015 deal from which Trump withdrew under Israeli pressure.
This is the strategic impasse Trump himself got himself into, and he seems to be choosing the latter option, hoping to present it as a victory to a sufficiently naive public. This capitulation might not have been necessary if Iran had found itself facing the full force of NATO. All of this stems from an unnecessary mistake, because the administration had legitimate strategic interests in the Arctic without needing to threaten Greenland. Something is definitely rotten, but not in Denmark.