Greenland’s Big Moment

Ignored for most of its existence, the huge ice-bound island has been thrust into a geopolitical maelstrom. It’s trying to make the most of it.

Above the harbor, where little boats splattered with fish blood putter back to shore and men with ice-encrusted mustaches butcher seals, sits a two-story building where Palle Jeremiassen works. He is the mayor of Ilulissat, a small town in the Arctic Circle, and he’s got a busy day.

Howling winds just wiped out the path to the best ice-fishing spot and the fishermen, some of whom still stomp around in pants made of polar-bear fur, are getting upset.

In another settlement farther north, the ice is too thin to cross. Greenlanders call this “young ice,” and it shouldn’t be this young this deep into winter — another worrying sign of climate change. Unless Mayor Jeremiassen quickly organizes emergency shipments by helicopter, the villagers who usually cruise around on snowmobiles and dog sleds could run out of food.

Out here on the western coast of Greenland, ice defines life. The endless snowfields glitter with millions of ice crystals. A skyline of sapphire icebergs rises from the semi-frozen sea. But something even bigger is occupying the mayor’s mind at the moment, and that of many people here. It boils down to one word: Trump.

Denmark, which once colonized Greenland, still oversees many of its affairs. But now President Trump says the United States will take over Greenland, and he has not ruled out using force to do so.

“What can we do when he comes?” the mayor asks. “We will not be Americans. We don’t want to be Europeans. We want to be Greenlandic.”