So it is the new year in Greenland. New Year’s Eve is over, and now Mitaartut begins – this is the Greenlandic tradition where, around the time of the Epiphany on January 6th, we dress up in creepy masks and furs, knock on doors and scare people in the streets.
But it’s not Mitaartut that scares us this year. It’s the threat from the great nation towards the west: the USA.
We’ve been here before. The beginning of this year threw us right back to last year, when the US president Donald Trump first made his extraordinary claim to Greenland. A year later, the conversations we’re having are exactly the same – it’s all about what he wants with our country.
I am a journalist born and raised in Greenland, and currently living in Denmark. This is a beautiful time of year in my country: you look out over the city with the small roads, the wooden houses and the dogs outside. You know that the sun will soon return and that makes you happy. And then the news arrives like a bomb from the dark sky.
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Someone wants our country. The most peaceful country in the world, according to the Inuit.
Tradition tells us to meet the first rays of sunlight on January 13th with joy, because brighter days are finally returning. Children make paper suns and place them in every window. Will we do that this year, as we always do? Or will the dark shadow of Trump’s words bring new clouds over us?
It’s true that Greenland is a peaceful country. You can go to the store with a rifle over your shoulder without anyone raising an eyebrow. No one sees it as a threat.
The distances are so great that it is difficult to understand that Qeqertarsuaq is more than 100 kilometres away from the mainland, even though the island seems closer.
Trump wants Greenland - what’s to stop him taking it?
Last year, the absurd proposition that Trump might “buy” Greenland was mostly treated as a joke. Now it has now taken on more weight. White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt said on Tuesday that Trump has made it well known that acquiring Greenland is a national security priority of the US. She said “utilising the US military is always an option.” Those words arrived like a blizzard rolling in over the country.
The irony is that in Greenland, no one can own a piece of land. You can apply to be allocated an area – and then wait. Land is not a commodity here. Therefore, the idea that someone from outside can lay claim to the land hits you hard. For us, this is not about geopolitics or a spat over resources like rare earth minerals or the implications for Nato. It is our home.
[ Explainer: Why does Donald Trump want to take over Greenland?Opens in new window ]
For years, the debate has centred on the Greenland–Denmark relationship. When we talk about identity, the conversation is about who is more Greenlandic. Or why don’t you don’t speak fluent Greenlandic? There is a bond between two countries that has existed for generations. Many families are mixed, speaking two languages. Newspapers and news broadcasts are in both languages. We have Danish lessons in school. Most people go on holidays to Denmark. The King of Denmark is very popular in Greenland. People feel that he truly knows Greenland, and almost everyone loves the royal family.
On August 1st, people gather in Tivoli in Copenhagen for Greenlandic Days, where you meet old teachers and friends and listen to live Greenlandic music.
And now that bond risks being torn – with significant help from the United States. Is it strong enough to withstand the distance? Or is this the moment when the ties finally break?
The sense of powerlessness most of us feel is growing by the day. We want to know what we – a nation of just 56,000 people – do to keep the threat at bay? Should we simply hope that Europe and the rest of the world will come to our rescue?
Facebook, which is still by far the most used social media in Greenland, is boiling over.
When a map of Greenland covered in the American flag was shared, people responded by bombarding the platform with pictures of Greenlandic flags and national costumes. Many changed their profile pictures. Of course we knew it was futile but we wanted to do something. How can a small picture change Trump’s view of Greenland?
My own primary feeling is fear over what’s going to happen. I can already see divisions emerging in the population. Already, there are campaigns on Facebook trying to convince Greenlanders that we should belong to the United States.
In a small society, this kind of polarisation is deeply wounding.
And our children are far from unaware of the news. This week, posts are being shared online about how to talk to them about the situation in language they will understand. I myself have a hard time explaining to my own children what is happening.
So far, I have likened Donald Trump to Mayor Humdinger from Paw Patrol who wants to rule everything. Or I’ve made light of it by telling them he is a carrot man who wants to own our country.
But the conversation is difficult – and children also get scared when they sense the unrest of adults. This morning, I found myself saying: “I’m so sorry, kids, that you have to grow up in a world where this is the reality.” Children today will learn that you can do whatever you want – that you can simply take a country if you are powerful enough, without caring about the people who live there.
[ Trump wants to ‘buy Greenland’ rather than invade it, says US secretary of stateOpens in new window ]
A short time ago, the news in Greenland was all about issues like mining, housing problems, the scourge of mould, a shortage of educators and teachers, homelessness and the new airport in Nuuk.
Previously, people landed in Kangerlussuaq – a former American military base that the US left in the late 1980s. Now Kangerlussuaq stands almost alone, while Nuuk struggles to keep its new airport running. It was here that the world saw the pictures of Trump’s plane on Greenlandic soil.
Now the reality is different. The uncertainty is rippling through the country like a cold Arctic wind, and we are holding our breath. When will the storm be over? And what will Greenland look like afterwards?
Nina Jul Larsen is a freelance journalist born and raised in Ilulissat, Greenland. She is currently living in Nibe, Northern Jutland, Denmark.
