“There is a touch of death about a warehouse full of goods, piled high in the gloom, with a flabby, dusty air about it as though the faith and the honour, the courage and the love of the men who had gone out into the wide world to toil and die, had left only a heap of corrupted bones smothered under a mass of rubbish to rot in the dark.”
— Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness, 1899.
The impunity with which occupation, systemic violence and genocide are normalised in the world today is staggering. When Donald Trump repeated his 2019 call to “buy Greenland,” he wasn’t just reviving imperialistic fantasies – he was rebranding exploitation as the next great adventure of conquest. Instead, it is the impetus of impunity that gets normalised.
On January 24, the US president had a “fiery call” with Danish prime minister Mette Frederiksen as reported by Financial Times. A critical NATO ally, Denmark is “utterly freaked out” despite Frederiksen’s offer “to increase Greenland-US cooperation on military bases and natural resource exploitation” to blunt the aggressive take over of the arctic island.
Greenland, a land of high silence in the Arctic, where the air is crystalline and time seems to congeal in the long night, holds a wealth the world has only just begun to covet. Its vast, ice-choked expanse, glacial yet breathing with hidden heat beneath its frosty mantle, is not merely a frozen monolith but a region of deep historical and geopolitical significance. If Joseph Conrad chronicled the moral ruin of colonialism in the tropical mists of Africa’s dark heart, then surely the Arctic fog swirling above Greenland is the veil of a new reckoning, steeped in the historical parallels of the Congo’s exploitation.
In this tale of imperialistic desire and colonial dominion, Greenland emerges as the Congo of the 21st century, not for rubber or ivory but for cobalt, rare earth elements, and lithium. These elements, the veins of modernity’s unrelenting appetite for the digital and green revolutions, carry immense geopolitical implications. The skeletons of colonial ambition stir beneath the permafrost, drawing not only venture capitalists but also nation-states that, like King Leopold II in his lust for the Congo, see not land but the shimmering mirage of endless profit. The unfolding interest in Greenland’s mineral wealth is a story that is both compelling and deeply concerning.
The Trumpian resurgence of a colonial fantasy
Donald Trump’s current proposal to buy Greenland – brash, surreal, and initially dismissed as geopolitical theatre – has proven less a farce and more a harbinger. Trump argued that his plan was not absurd, citing precedent in American history. In 1946, the Truman administration proposed a secret purchase of Greenland from Denmark, as revealed decades later in documents uncovered by The Associated Press. Truman’s Cold War-era overture, though lacking the spectacle of Trump’s public bid, underscored the same motives: Greenland’s strategic importance and untapped mineral wealth. While Truman’s proposal remained sealed in Cold War secrecy, Trump’s attempt was met with open rejection, a public rebuke that laid bare enduring tensions between sovereignty and neo-colonial aspirations.
The question of sovereignty and ownership, so blatantly revived by Trump’s clumsy overture, is not new to Greenland. It has long existed under the shadow of external powers, first as a colony of Denmark and later as a semi-autonomous territory navigating the complex interplay of self-rule and foreign dependence. Trump’s desire to “buy” Greenland was thus more than an anachronistic throwback to 19th-century imperialism; it was a modern manifestation of resource-driven geopolitics cloaked in the rhetoric of opportunity.
Greenland’s history is deeply entwined with Denmark, whose formal colonisation began in 1721 with the arrival of Danish missionary Hans Egede. In the Greenlandic language of Kalaallisut, the island is called Kalaallit Nunaat. The Danes, firm in their conviction of stewardship, kept the island’s borders sealed for centuries, their colonial dominion extending until 1953. That year marked a turning point: Greenland, once a mere colony, was redefined as a recognised territory of Denmark, heralding a new epoch of administrative attention. The ensuing decades saw a slow but determined ascent toward autonomy, with Indigenous Greenlanders securing home rule in 1979. Yet it was only in 2009 that full self-government was realised, as the reins of governance – save for defence and foreign affairs – were passed from Copenhagen to Nuuk. Greenland continues to aim for complete independence in the long term, though Copenhagen retains leadership in Arctic policy and NATO affairs. While the relationship is not tension-free, Greenland and Denmark have established a political framework to guide this journey.
Long before the 2010 mining boom, Greenland’s economy was rooted in its mineral wealth. The island’s unique geology, teeming with rare metals and minerals, had long piqued the interest of outsiders. From 1854 to 1962, the Ivittuut mine extracted cryolite, a mineral indispensable to aluminium production, securing Greenland’s strategic importance during World War II. During this time, the United States, recognizing the vital role of Greenland’s resources, took control of its defence. Greenland’s mines yielded copper, zinc, lead, coal, and uranium for nearly a century. Yet by 1990, with resources dwindling, the industry that had once driven the island’s economy faltered and collapsed.
The lure of critical minerals
The world’s gaze has since turned to Greenland’s rare earth elements (REEs) – 17 elusive metals that power the pulse of modern technology. These elements are the lifeblood of electronics, hybrid vehicles, and renewable energy infrastructure. As global demand for these materials spiralled, the spectre of supply interruptions loomed ever larger. For two decades, China reigned unchallenged as the dominant supplier of REEs, controlling over 90% of global production. When environmental concerns forced the United States to abandon its own production, China’s monopolistic hold on vital resources became even more pronounced. This dependence set the stage for a dramatic geopolitical shift as nations – particularly the US and the EU – scrambled to secure alternative sources. Greenland’s untouched mineral reserves now glimmer as a beacon of opportunity.
For Greenland’s leaders, mining offers a tantalising path to autonomy – a means to fortify the island’s economic independence. However, this prospect is fraught with moral and ecological dilemmas. Proponents of mining hail it as a solution to chronic unemployment and a key to unlocking economic prosperity. Opponents, however, warn of the potential devastation to the island’s fragile environment and burgeoning tourism sector. After fierce debates, the Greenlandic government voted by a narrow margin in October 2013 to lift a long-standing ban on uranium mining. This decision symbolised Greenland’s pursuit of self-sufficiency, yet the matter remains contentious. Denmark retains control over Greenland’s radioactive materials, leaving the future of mining mired in uncertainty.
Beneath Greenland’s icy crust lies a treasure trove of resources critical to the 21st-century economy. The Biden administration’s push to secure rare earth supply chains and reduce dependence on China underscores the island’s strategic importance. Greenland’s potential reserves of graphite, cobalt, and neodymium – essential for electric vehicles, wind turbines, and advanced electronics – are immense. For instance, estimates suggest that Greenland’s graphite reserves alone could exceed global electric vehicle demand by 2040, positioning the island as a key player in countering Chinese mineral supremacy.
Recognition of this security risk has driven G7 nations to adopt “friend-shoring” – a policy that promotes mineral extraction and processing within politically aligned states. The United States and its allies hope to insulate supply chains from Chinese influence through initiatives like the Minerals Security Partnership. Yet this aspiration is fraught with challenges. Greenland’s harsh climate, limited infrastructure, and sparse workforce complicate efforts to scale mining operations sustainably.
More significantly, Greenland’s mineral wealth includes rare earth elements that rival China’s reserves, making it a critical focal point in the West’s bid to challenge Beijing’s dominance. In 2023, China imposed graphite export restrictions in retaliation for US semiconductor sanctions, underscoring the geopolitical stakes of mineral dependence. Greenland, with its potential to host the world’s second-largest reserves of rare earth elements, has become a strategic chess piece in this unfolding drama.
Echoes of the Congo
To liken Greenland to the Congo is to evoke an uncomfortable parallel between the past exploitation of colonial territories and its modern reinvention. The Congo, plundered for rubber, copper, and coltan, bore the brunt of European imperialism at the cost of untold human suffering. King Leopold II’s Congo Free State epitomized the brutal transformation of natural wealth into foreign profit, leaving behind a legacy of violence and environmental degradation.
As the recent documentary The Soundtrack to a Coup d’État explores the story of Patrice Lumumba, the Congo’s first democratically elected leader, offers a cautionary tale for resource-rich nations like Greenland. Lumumba’s vision of sovereignty over the Congo’s resources – a defiance of the exploitative systems that had enriched European powers – led to his assassination in 1961. His tragic fate underscored the geopolitical stakes of resource wealth, as Western powers acted to maintain control over the Congo’s minerals during the Cold War. Greenland’s burgeoning role in the global economy raises the question: can it avoid becoming a 21st-century Congo, a territory whose resources are extracted to fuel the ambitions of distant powers?
Greenland faces competing pressures from the West and China. Beijing’s ambitions in the Arctic are well-documented, with Greenland playing a key role in its Polar Silk Road strategy. While many Chinese mining projects in Greenland have stalled, the geopolitical stakes are clear. The European Union, seeking to counter Chinese influence, signed a Memorandum of Understanding with Greenland in 2023 to deepen ties. This follows the United States, for its part, has pursued initiatives such as reopening in 2020 a consulate in Nuuk and launching the Enterprise-Driven Growth Initiative, aiming to foster economic collaboration. Despite these efforts, significant private investment has yet to materialise, underscoring the challenges of developing Greenland’s mining sector.
Greenland at a crossroads
As Greenland’s icy expanse becomes a battleground for competing visions of the future, the stakes could not be higher. Global warming has accelerated the melting of Greenland’s ice sheet, threatening traditional Inuit ways of life while making mineral extraction more feasible. This cruel irony positions Greenland as both a victim and potential beneficiary of the Anthropocene, embodying the interconnectedness of ecological and economic systems.
The island’s trajectory will depend on the choices made in the coming years. Will Greenland succumb to the cycles of exploitation that have marked other resource-rich territories, or will it chart a path of resilience and autonomy?
Like Conrad’s Congo, Greenland challenges us to confront the darkness within human ambition even as it offers the promise of redemption. Whether it becomes a beacon of sustainable progress or a cautionary tale of exploitation will depend on our ability to listen to the warnings whispered by its melting ice and act with foresight and responsibility.
Narendra Pachkhédé is a critic, essayist and writer who splits his time between Toronto, London and Geneva.