By Dov Maimon, JNS
It exposes a deeper reality. The muscle of nations and international organizations on the continent lie primarily in rhetoric, not enforcement.
If the United States were to openly threaten or even pursue annexation of Greenland, one might expect a coordinated and forceful European response. Greenland is part of the Kingdom of Denmark—a member of the European Union, a member of NATO and a U.S. ally. Such a move would directly challenge the principles of sovereignty and territorial integrity that European leaders routinely invoke.
Yet the more plausible outcome would be hesitation, fragmentation, and ultimately, inaction.
This is not because Europe fails to recognize the legal gravity of the situation. It’s because, for all its moral rhetoric, Europe lacks the strategic cohesion and political will required to confront American power when core security interests are involved.
In Eastern Europe, the reaction would likely be silence. Poland and the Baltic states would avoid public criticism altogether. With American missiles stationed on Polish soil and Russia perceived as an existential threat, Warsaw’s calculation is straightforward: American dominance is preferable to Russian coercion or Chinese influence. Ukraine, wholly dependent on U.S. military and financial support, would have little choice but to remain discreet.
Southern Europe would likely take a different but equally predictable approach. Italy, under Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, has embraced a clear Atlanticist orientation. Rome would frame Greenland not as a sovereignty issue but as a North Atlantic security matter, prioritizing alignment with Washington over European legal principle.
The United Kingdom would defer to its “special relationship” with the United States, emphasizing NATO unity and strategic stability while carefully avoiding confrontation.
Germany and France might very well express concern, call for dialogue and invoke international law. But beyond strongly worded statements, little would follow. Berlin remains constrained by its reliance on U.S. security guarantees and its limited military readiness. Paris may speak more forcefully, but without the coalition or leverage necessary to impose meaningful consequences.
The Nordic countries would find themselves in an awkward and uncomfortable position. Sweden and Finland, now firmly anchored in NATO, would be reluctant to undermine their relationship with Washington despite their moral sympathy for, and proximity to, Denmark.
Denmark itself would stand largely alone—armed with legal arguments, diplomatic appeals and European solidarity in word, rather than deed.
The European Union, as an institution, would issue declarations reaffirming its commitment to international law and restraint. What it would not do is levy costs with any bite. Unity would be preserved only through passivity.
This hypothetical Greenland crisis would really be about something else. It would expose a deeper reality: Europe’s power lies primarily in rhetoric, not enforcement. When confronted with a decisive ally acting unilaterally, Europe protests and then adapts.
That lesson extends well beyond the Arctic.
Israel today faces unusually harsh criticism from European capitals over its conduct in Gaza. Much of this criticism is framed in absolutist moral terms and accompanied by warnings of diplomatic isolation. Yet the Greenland scenario underscores a recurring pattern: European outrage does not necessarily translate into strategic action.
Even as European governments denounce Israel, they continue to rely on Israeli military technology, intelligence cooperation and cyber capabilities. Germany’s multibillion-euro purchase of Israel’s Arrow-3 missile-defense system is not an exception; it is emblematic.
Israel should not dismiss Europe, but it must understand it clearly. European pressure often reflects domestic politics and moral signaling more than a willingness to bear strategic costs. States that struggle to enforce their own red lines are unlikely to enforce the red lines of others.
History suggests that respect follows results. When Israel demonstrates that it can contain and defeat Islamist threats—threats that Europe itself has failed to confront decisively—today’s critics will quietly adjust their assessments.
The Greenland test reveals a simple truth: In international politics, power is measured less by condemnation than by consequence. Israel would do well to remember that, and not be unduly impressed by the volume of Europe’s disapproval.
