Trump’s Greenland Threats Shake NATO and Test America’s Global Credibility

By any modern measure of alliance politics, the moment was extraordinary. Asked directly whether he would rule out the use of military force against a fellow NATO member, President Donald Trump refused to say yes. The exchange, captured on camera as NBC News correspondent Vaughn Hillyard pressed the president, immediately reverberated across Washington and European capitals. For allies already rattled by years of tariff threats, transactional diplomacy and rhetorical hostility, Trump’s silence landed not as ambiguity, but as escalation.

Greenland, an autonomous territory of Denmark and thus covered by NATO’s collective defense guarantees, has become an unlikely focal point of global anxiety. Trump has repeatedly suggested that the United States should “have” Greenland, framing the idea in terms of national security and strategic competition with China and Russia. But this week, what alarmed lawmakers and allies alike was not another boast or provocation. It was the president’s refusal to take military force off the table.

In Washington, the reaction was swift and unusually bipartisan. Representative Don Bacon, a Nebraska Republican and retired Air Force general, said he would “lean toward impeachment” if Trump ordered a military invasion of Greenland. Members of Congress from both parties quietly acknowledged that even floating such a possibility undermines the core logic of NATO: that disputes among allies are resolved through diplomacy, not threats.

Former Justice Department official Andrew Weissmann, speaking on MSNBC, framed the moment as a dangerous signal to the rest of the world. If the United States, the founding and leading member of NATO, treats alliance borders as negotiable, he argued, it validates the very logic Washington has spent decades condemning. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, China’s pressure on Taiwan and Venezuela’s claims against its neighbors all rest on a “might makes right” worldview that rejects international law and the United Nations Charter. “This could not be worse for our country,” Weissmann said, even from a narrow “America First” perspective.

The analogy struck a nerve because it cut against decades of bipartisan consensus. Since World War II, U.S. presidents of both parties have treated NATO not merely as a military pact but as a moral and political commitment rooted in shared sacrifice. Denmark invoked NATO’s Article 5 after the September 11 attacks, sending troops to fight and die alongside Americans in Afghanistan. For many lawmakers, the idea that a U.S. president would not rule out force against such an ally feels almost unthinkable.

Yet Trump’s defenders insist that his words are being overinterpreted, describing them as leverage in negotiations rather than genuine threats. That argument, however, has found little traction abroad. In Denmark and Greenland, officials and ordinary citizens are taking the rhetoric seriously. A bipartisan group of U.S. lawmakers traveled to Denmark this week in an attempt to lower tensions, while Danish and European forces quietly increased their military presence around Greenland. Danish naval vessels and transport aircraft have become a visible reminder that what was once an abstract geopolitical debate now carries real-world consequences.

For Greenlanders, the spectacle is both surreal and unsettling. In interviews with reporters, residents described the shock of seeing military aircraft land and naval ships patrol a region better known for its isolation and tranquility. One woman told NBC News that Trump’s comments felt less about security than about control, pointing to Greenland’s vast, largely untapped natural resources. “We’re not for sale,” she said. “We are real people living here, and we want to be respected.”

Demonstrations are planned in Nuuk, Greenland’s capital, and in Copenhagen outside the U.S. embassy, underscoring how deeply the issue has resonated locally. Greenland’s leaders have repeatedly emphasized that any change in the island’s status must come through democratic consent, not pressure from a foreign power, even one long considered a friend.

The fallout is not limited to Europe. In Canada, another close ally, Trump’s rhetoric on Greenland and his renewed tariff threats have intensified doubts about Washington’s reliability. Canadian officials recently signaled a willingness to deepen economic engagement with China, including opening the door to Chinese-made electric vehicles, a move that would have been politically unthinkable just a few years ago. Analysts say the shift reflects not enthusiasm for Beijing, but anxiety about dependence on a United States that appears increasingly unpredictable.

Claire McCaskill, the former Democratic senator from Missouri, argued that Americans themselves understand what is at stake more clearly than elites often assume. NATO, she noted, is inseparable from the memory of World War II and the defeat of fascism, a legacy still honored in communities across the country. “There’s no appetite in public opinion for this,” she said, pointing to polls showing overwhelming opposition to the idea of acquiring Greenland by force.

Indeed, surveys consistently suggest that upwards of 80 percent of Americans oppose any military action against allies. The small minority that supports Trump’s approach rarely articulates a strategic rationale beyond trust in the president’s instincts. That gap between rhetoric and public sentiment has only deepened concern on Capitol Hill that Trump could act unilaterally, testing constitutional limits and congressional authority over war.

At the heart of the controversy lies a broader question about American power in the 21st century. For decades, U.S. influence rested not only on military strength but on trust: the belief that Washington would honor its commitments, respect international law and treat allies as partners rather than subordinates. Trump’s approach, critics argue, replaces that framework with one of coercion, where tariffs, security guarantees and even the threat of force are bargaining chips.

NATO leaders are watching closely. While the alliance remains formally intact, diplomats privately concede that confidence in U.S. leadership has been shaken. Even if a future president seeks to repair the damage, some analysts believe the relationship will never fully return to its pre-Trump state. Once allies begin hedging, diversifying their security and trade relationships, the old assumptions of exclusivity fade.

Trump has shown little inclination to soften his stance in response to criticism or falling poll numbers. That pattern, combined with his refusal to clearly rule out force against a NATO ally, is what has elevated Greenland from a diplomatic oddity to a test of global order. As Weissmann warned, the erosion of norms rarely happens all at once. It happens when extraordinary statements become normalized, and when silence, rather than reassurance, becomes the official response.

For now, Europe is bracing, Congress is stirring and Greenlanders are preparing to protest. The question hanging over all of it is not whether the United States will invade Greenland, but what it means when the president will not say he won’t.