As Trump’s Greenland Threat Grows, Europe Begins to Find Its Voice 

It has taken European leaders nearly a year to recognize what they were up against in Donald Trump. The 47th president has been browbeating and insulting them since he returned to the White House. He has called Europe a “decaying” continent led by “weak,” “incompetent” people who “are not doing a good job,” and his administration has vowed to “cultivate resistance” to continental governments, replacing them with far-right populists. Still, most European leaders have been afraid to push back, wary of alienating the great power that has guaranteed the continent’s security and prosperity for over 80 years. 

But this dynamic appears to be changing as Trump ratchets up his threats to take over Greenland—the autonomous territory of a loyal NATO member—either “the easy way” or “the hard way,” with the use of force.  

As recently as last fall, European leaders fell into two camps. The largest group consisted of what you might call “appeasers” like NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, who never publicly questions or counters Trump and called him “Daddy” at last summer’s NATO summit. In the other camp, generally younger, less established, or no longer in public office, are the “rebels.” Among the most outspoken is former Lithuanian foreign minister Gabrielius Landsbergis, who warns that NATO is heading into its “twilight“ years and if Europe “doesn’t wake up, we might have to declare it dead.”  

What’s been missing are sober, down-to-earth voices with concrete plans for how Europe can move toward a new order, out from under America’s shadow and able to defend itself against an aggressive, revanchist Russia. 

These new voices, the “reformers,” are growing bolder and more numerous in response to the threat to Greenland. Some who have looked like appeasers for the last 12 months—French President Emmanuel Macron and German Chancellor Friedrich Merz are among the most prominent—are talking a tougher line. Macron responded swiftly and unequivocally to Trump’s Saturday post announcing new 10 percent tariffs on European nations that resist his takeover of Danish territory. “Tariff threats are unacceptable,” the French president declared, slyly likening Trump to Russian strongman Vladimir Putin. “No intimidation or threat will influence us—neither in Ukraine, nor in Greenland, nor anywhere else in the world.”  

Meanwhile, Germany is among the few large countries moving decisively to fulfill the promise NATO members made last June to devote 5 percent of GDP to defense and defense-related spending. “The decades of Pax Americana for Europe and Germany are largely over,” the chancellor announced last month. “The Americans are now very fiercely defending their interests. And that is why we must now defend our interests.” 

The emerging mood is still mostly talk and baby steps. But a new imperative appears to be sinking in—that Europe’s postwar way of compromise, consensus and unanimous decision-making, with near-limitless deference to minority views, must give way to something more forceful and decisive. What isn’t yet clear: Will these green shoots take root and grow into a new, more determined Europe that can act together to defend its own interests?  

It isn’t hard to understand why Europe has been slow to make a clean break from its longtime protector. The U.S. is among the European Union’s top trading partners, accounting for 21 percent of its exports and 14 percent of its imports in 2024, with total annual trade in goods and services worth nearly $2 trillion. Even as European NATO members move to assume a greater share of their own defense burden, they still depend on Washington for essential inputs, including intelligence, deep strikes, and heavy airlifts. Many elected officials fear that voters will punish them at the polls for rebalancing budgets to fund a military buildup. Most insidious, many continental leaders have grown accustomed to deference and dependence—the ingrained habits of a lifetime. The upshot: even as Washington trumpets its antipathy and contempt, many Europeans have hesitated to respond.  

One way to understand the dynamic of the past year is as a romantic relationship on the rocks. Many on both sides sensed that a separation could be coming, but Europe was reluctant to acknowledge the tensions lest that become a self-fulfilling prophecy. The continent feared that merely discussing it could trigger the end of the Atlantic alliance, prompting Trump’s anger and a sudden U.S. withdrawal. “Sure, we see it on the horizon,” one diplomat told me in a private conversation last fall. “And yes, we have to start to plan and prepare. But that doesn’t mean we have to be the ones to send the divorce papers.” 

Now, by threatening to invade Greenland, Trump has forever altered the partnership, freeing Europeans to speak more candidly and take decisive action.  

A chorus of angry voices has now joined Merz and Macron, speaking up in defense of national sovereignty and the rule of law. Former NATO chief Anders Fogh Rasmussen compared Trump to the “gangsters” ruling Russia and China. German President Frank-Walter Steinmeier called the emerging world order a “den of robbers” where “the most unscrupulous take what they want,” while German Vice Chancellor Lars Klingbeil Klingbeil declared that NATO was “disintegrating . . . The transatlantic alliance is undergoing a much more profound upheaval than we have may have been willing to admit until now.”  

Even some MAGA favorites—populists like Italian Prime Minister Georgina Meloni, Brexit champion Nigel Farage, and rising French party leader Jordan Bardella—have criticized Trump’s tough talk. (Contrast General Secretary Rutte, who, even now, is still appeasing, insisted last week that NATO was “not at all” in crisis. “I think we are really working in the right direction.”) 

Europe’s initial response was largely symbolic: eight countries, including France, Germany, and the UK, joined forces to send some three dozen soldiers to Greenland for a military exercise. But many continental leaders are now moving from talk to action.  

Some of the thinkers build on existing initiatives, including talks about extending France’s nuclear force de frappe to the rest of Europe and the EU Security Action for Europe (SAFE) loan program launched last summer. Worth a total of €150 billion, the funding supports European countries collaborating on defense procurement—but generally cannot be used to partner with U.S. manufacturers. The continent’s many fledgling “coalitions of the willing” suddenly look more appealing and significant, as do the eight NATO battle groups stationed in frontline countries led entirely by Europeans with no U.S. participation.  

Over the weekend, Trump’s announcement of new transatlantic tariffs stiffened resistance in the European Parliament, which postponed ratification of the skewed trade deal—far more favorable to the U.S. than to Europe—that EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen negotiated with Trump in Scotland last summer. 

None of this, by itself, is going to upend the transatlantic alliance, but some leaders are starting to consider more powerful levers. Among the most potent would be evicting the U.S. military from more than three dozen European military bases Washington has used for over 50 years to project power in the Middle East and beyond—facilities that made a decisive difference in the Yom Kippur, Afghanistan, and Iraq wars, and Trump’s 2025 attack on Iranian nuclear sites. Mainstream European politicians are now talking seriously about kicking Americans out of these bases and banning U.S. overflights in Europe. 

A second powerful tool under discussion in Brussels and endorsed by Macron on Sunday is the EU’s so-called “trade bazooka.” Activating the bloc’s Anti-Coercion Instrument, a regulation approved in 2023 but never invoked, would open the door to tariffs, trade restrictions, reduced access to financial markets, and limits on intellectual property protection. Other potential economic countermeasures under discussion include retaliatory tariffs, travel bans, sanctions, and consumer boycotts.  

Combined with cuts to transatlantic weapons purchases, the trade bazooka, initially intended for use against China, could inflict serious harm on the U.S. economy. European NATO members have more than tripled their arms imports over the past five years, with U.S. weapons now accounting for more than one-third of total procurement—an estimated $60 billion.  

One of the most thoughtful reformers to emerge in recent weeks is EU Defense Commissioner Andrius Kubilius. A mild-mannered, avuncular man who previously served as Lithuania’s prime minister, Kubilius is working to turn the tough talk ricocheting across the continent into concrete, pragmatic plans for what might come next. His vision rests on three pillars: defense investment, institutional leadership—an alternative to NATO—and political will.  

Kubilius proposes that Brussels make provision for the enactment of Article 42.7 of the EU Treaty, a clause akin to NATO’s Article 5 that requires member states to come to the assistance of any country “victim of armed aggression on its territory.” A second step would be to field an EU army—perhaps 100,000 troops to start. Most far-reaching and arguably most consequential, Kubilius has begun to consider how European powers should decide to use this force and other military capabilities. He proposes a 10 to 12-member European “security council” that can act more quickly and decisively than the ponderous EU, if necessary, replace NATO.  

“What are we waiting for?” Kubilius asked last week at a Swedish security conference. “Now is the time to deliver.” His most burning question: “How we can use . . . NATO structures” to build a new, post-NATO security alliance? Because if Trump moves on Greenland, “NATO, as it is now, definitely will not exist anymore.” 

The question looming in the days ahead: will Europeans use these levers? Can leaders overcome their hesitation and inevitable national differences to act decisively for the good of the continent? It’s hard to imagine a more formidable challenge for the traditionally fragmented, slow-moving EU, and it doesn’t help that the continent’s most important leaders—Macron, Merz, and UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer—preside over slender, tenuous governments besieged by the populist right. The one advantage they may not be counting on: even before this weekend, many European voters no longer believed the U.S. would protect them from Russian aggression, and a significant majority want to see the continent do more to defend itself. 

Asked whether Trump was a friend or foe, more than 57 percent of French respondents—along with 46 percent of Germans and more than half of Spaniards and Italians—viewed him as an “enemy.” Asked if Europe should be more self-reliant in providing for its own defense, between 70 and 85 percent in the continent’s four biggest countries agreed somewhat or very strongly. In another extensive survey of eight nations, more than half the respondents in every country except Poland and Romania would like to see Europe field a continental army, and more than 50 percent in every country except Italy are somewhat or very eager to come under the protection of the French nuclear deterrent. 

It will take more than a few steps—even big ones—to usher in a new era in the transatlantic relationship. Change will take time and cost a lot of money, and no one can predict what will be left standing when the dust settles. Looking back, perversely, perhaps Europeans will thank Donald Trump for freeing them to pursue the divorce they knew was coming but have been afraid to trigger. Flattery and appeasement made sense when it seemed possible to save the relationship. But if it isn’t—if Europe has little or nothing left to lose—perhaps the time has come to find a better way.