GLACIAL GEOPOLITICS: A NEW COLD WAR IN THE FAR NORTH

GREENLAND AND THE ARCTIC IN THE CROSSHAIRS OF SUPERPOWERS AMID STRATEGIC BASES AND ENVIRONMENTAL FACTORS

In Fennoscandia and Denmark, extending to the annexed Arctic territories, the idea of a clash of civilizations is deeply rooted in the collective imagination, in politics as well as in literature. In Peter Høeg's Smilla's Sense of Snow (1992), towards the very last pages of the book, one of the secondary characters states: "One should not fear World War III, for humanity needs a new war to regain its reason." The entire narrative is permeated by an oppressive sense of transience and unfathomable insecurity, both in human relationships and interethnic balances, where the only stable element is the ice and the awareness that one's identity, whatever it may be, is inextricably linked to it.

Indeed, Greenlandic identity—one of the book's central themes—is a compromise between the Norse heritage, a minority yet significant for territorial legitimacy and the consequent political sphere, and the Inuit heritage, ancestral and deeply felt by the population. The genetic connection to Asia is the only enduring bond that has characterized these peoples, considering that before the Treaty of Kiel in 1814, Greenland was part of the Kingdom of Norway. Although Norway had been united with Denmark for five centuries, it was only from that date that Greenlanders officially became "Danish," coming into contact with Europeans living 2,920 km away—geographically and culturally closer to Central-Western Europe than to the extreme North. Even a shared affinity for ice was not enough to unite two peoples who, like an asymptotic relationship, could come close but never fully converge, remaining, in many aspects, irreconcilably antithetical.

This perception of a coerced and accelerated Europeanization/Southernization, of a distant and different homeland that viewed them with superiority or, at best, with a facade of indulgence—the same indulgence reserved for a people considered inferior—has marked the entire history of the Greenlandic people, culminating in the aberrations of the "Little Danes Experiment" (1), the "Spiral Case" (2), and the "Legal Disavowal of Paternity" (3). These events, which could be considered attempts at forced assimilation and genuine human rights violations, are typical of the control exerted by Caucasian populations over those of different origins. After all, around the same time, Sweden was doing the same to the Sami, and Australia to the Aboriginal people. Acts of racism were not uncommon, despite the fresh memory of the Holocaust. As a result, today, the Inuit, partly as a reaction to exclusion, are much more closely connected to other Asian Arctic populations than to the Danes or other leucodermic peoples.

The Inuit and Yupik of Alaska, Canada, and the Chukchi Peninsula are the only peoples with whom Greenlanders have developed a relationship of trust—perhaps not absolute and unquestionable (if such a thing even exists), but certainly noteworthy. Together, they established the Inuit Circumpolar Council (ICC), an international organization representing approximately 180,000 people, whose activities are funded through a combination of government grants, NGO contributions, and funds from specific projects. Officially, the intentions are noble and commendable, but Russia is close, and Danish/Greenlandic politicians have always maintained significant bilateral relations with Russian socialists. The Canadian government has likely invested substantial resources in this project to prevent local populations from developing excessive sympathy for the Russian Federation, considering that Moscow, despite occasional issues, boasts a more solid integration of xanthodermic populations (4). Given the current geopolitical scenario, funding Greenland's cultural and political movements is a necessary choice, and encouraging the separatist ambitions of Siberian Yupik could be a strategic move for Canada and NATO, particularly in the event of a future Arctic war and the potential to use them as a powder keg to incite uprisings—all carried out in a sufficiently vague manner to appear as an innocent effort for the common good and cultural preservation (5).

As is well known, the United States is also interested in Greenland, but its expansionist aims are far from recent; in fact, it has been dreaming of acquiring it for over a century. As early as 1867, after purchasing Alaska, Secretary of State William H. Seward expressed interest in a hypothetical acquisition. Between 1910 and 1912, Danish explorers Ejnar Mikkelsen and Iver Iversen undertook a long and arduous journey to disprove the existence of the so-called Peary Channel. The Americans claimed that Greenland was divided in the north by this channel and hoped to seize the island's northern part. The expedition, thanks in part to cairns scattered along the route, proved that Greenland is a single landmass.

Although this was a significant setback for the United States, it did not mark the end of its expansionist project, not even to Denmark's detriment. In 1916, it purchased the Danish Virgin Islands, consolidating its presence in the North Atlantic and eliminating another vestige of European influence in the New World. Interest in Greenland resurfaced with particular intensity during World War II when, after the Nazi occupation of Denmark, the United States assumed defensive control of the island. Without American intervention, Greenland's fate would have mirrored that of the Netherlands and many other European states, as evidenced by Operation Holzauge in 1943, which revealed Germany's real ambitions. That year, the Kriegsmarine attempted to establish (and partially succeeded in establishing) a secret weather station on the eastern coast, transporting equipment via the U-537 submarine. The goal was to gather climatic data beneficial for military operations in the North Atlantic. However, this operation was thwarted thanks to the U.S. presence. The Danes will never forget this action, and the resulting gratitude for having faced the enemy together has had lasting repercussions. Indeed, in the post-war period, the 1951 Defense Treaty granted the United States the right to maintain bases in Greenland, including the crucial Thule Air Base (now Pituffik Space Base), a key node in Cold War nuclear strategy, also referenced in Høeg's novel.

In this very base, in 1968, a serious incident occurred that highlighted the risks of the massive U.S. military presence and a protection that had perhaps become an uncontested dominance: a B-52 bomber from the U.S. Air Force, armed with four nuclear bombs, crashed near the area, contaminating the surrounding ice with radioactive plutonium. The Thule incident revealed to the world the dangers of the militarization of the Arctic. However, this was not the only secret the United States kept in the Greenlandic ice: for years, in fact, they had launched an even more ambitious and controversial project, the Iceworm Project. Unbeknownst to everyone, they had built a dense network of underground bases intended to house nuclear missiles aimed at the Soviet Union. The project was officially disguised by the construction of the Camp Century base in 1959, presented as a scientific experiment for the study of the Arctic environment. However, technical difficulties and the instability of the ice cap made the plan impractical, leading to its abandonment in 1966. In addition to transforming Greenland into a real “sieve,” with many unusable tunnels, the project left behind tons of toxic waste buried in the ice. With the progressive melting of the ice cap due to climate change, it is estimated that by 2100 about 20,000 liters of chemicals will spill into the waters, with potentially devastating consequences for the Arctic ecosystem. Denmark has been far too indulgent and weak toward its transatlantic ally, since it never imposed itself to demand the cleanup of a territory where thousands of its citizens live, and which could cause, in just 100 years, chain damage to the entire European continent, particularly in the North.

All these episodes show that Greenland is a long-term strategic objective, with the United States trying to consolidate their presence on the island without considering either the actual will of the local population or the sovereignty of the Danish government. Therefore, Trump’s current plans are not surprising, especially considering that he repeated the same statements during his first term.

The question is: will the U.S. President really do what he says? And, most importantly, are his annexation plans real, or are they driven by the desire to give America an aura of combative boldness, considering his diplomatic line on Ukraine? His words could be seen as a flippant remark, an attempt by a brash person to reassure the war-hungry wing of the CIA. The purchase/conquest of Greenland could be a diversion, most likely even unfeasible (especially in the short term), just as it was in 1867, when the U.S. was in a critical situation. The country was engaged in the difficult process of reintegrating the Southern States after the Civil War. Johnson, already politically weak, was in conflict with Congress over the rights of former slaves and the reconstruction of the South. The economy was practically in collapse, and the purchase of Alaska was used to divert attention from internal problems.

Now, during the election campaign, the tycoon has risked his life several times, between failed assassination attempts and planes forced to make emergency landings in Montana. Evaluating alternatives to Boeing for the Air Force One contract and hiring Christian Craighead as an elite bodyguard are wise choices, but they will not dissuade those who want him dead. There are thousands of ways to kill a man. The CIA can be accused of many things, but not of lacking imagination. Between explosive cigars and diving suits with infectious fungi, the “creatives” at 1000 Colonial Farm Road have demonstrated – on more than one occasion – a narrative megalomania that even surpasses that of James Bond screenwriters.

It is therefore quite plausible that Trump is playing tough to buy time, to give a propaganda concession to those pushing for an attack on Russia. Putin, with his usual mix of candor and cunning, limited himself to saying that "the U.S. plans regarding Greenland are serious plans, plans with deep historical roots," and has every reason to use conciliatory and ambiguous words, since he does not want the U.S. to return to a markedly aggressive line in Ukraine. But it is clear that the astute Russian leader is well aware of the poor feasibility of an annexation that has fewer historical ties than the hypothetical Chinese invasion of Taiwan. Invading or acquiring Greenland would be seen as a democratic regression, a violent unilateral act that would turn the U.S. into a dangerous autocracy. Even the most subjugated Europeans might not justify such a shift.

It’s true, Greenland is strategic, but in the event of a war, it would be enough to simply control it as happened during the last world war. Moreover, the bases are already there, and within a day the U.S. would have almost total control. Since it is a difficult area to reach and sparsely populated, an Afghan-style scenario, with a rapid loss of U.S. dominance, would be unthinkable. For all these reasons, a formal annexation is conceivable, but it is logical to assume that the U.S. would only feel the need for it in a critical phase. And that critical phase might only arrive in the case of a Euro-Asian civil war, where the EU implodes between centrifugal forces and internal conflicts, Russia fragments into a “post-imperial” dissolution, and China, despite climate crisis and internal tensions, imposes itself on Eurasia as the only cultural and military glue. In such a scenario, with the Old World in flames, Greenland would not only symbolize a strategic outpost but also a geopolitical necessity, ensuring the Americans at least partial control over the Arctic, as a buffer zone.

THE IMPORTANCE OF GEOLOGY IN MILITARY PROJECTIONS

Meanwhile, NATO—the military projection of the USA—is expanding to the North, with the entry of Sweden and Finland. In fact, so far, the strategy has been to wear down the Eurasian giant by using proxies in its southern sector, with limited results, but the nerve center and decision-making core of the Third Rome has always been in the North. The direction seems already set, and it’s no coincidence that dozens of writers and futurists have imagined dystopian scenarios or alternate history fandoms centered on wars between Russia and Norway/NATO (7) and on geopolitical balances that are deeply different from today's.

In the beautiful "The Memory of Water" (2013) by Emmi Itäranta, the world undergoes a drastic political and geographical upheaval. Even though the writer does not delve into international power dynamics, from scattered details here and there, it is possible to deduce that at some point there was a new Storegga slide or something similar, which devastated Northern Europe and contaminated water reserves with oil and toxic debris. Great Britain followed the fate of the ancient Doggerland, sinking. The USA collapsed, losing its role as a superpower, Moscow became uninhabitable (a nuclear bomb?), moving its government to Finland, while China emerged as the dominant force. In this scenario, water is rarer than gold, and a totalitarian regime, with elements of Asian culture, tightly controls its distribution: dirty and rationed water reaches civilians, while the military elite has access to pure reserves.

Although these speculative narratives belong to the realm of imagination, they find ample resonance in the geopolitical reality, where the control of northern regions has often been determined by a combination of military, economic, and environmental factors. It will likely take centuries, if not millennia, to reach a landscape like the one described in Itäranta's novel, but it is a fact that environmental control will mainly determine the rulers of the Arctic. The analysis of conflicts, in fact, shows the importance of a multidisciplinary approach, one that considers not only the significance of history but also the geomorphology and stratigraphy of the macroregion. An emblematic example is the Battle of Lake Peipus in 1242—one of the most cherished symbols of Russian identity—where Prince Nevsky’s troops exploited the fragility of the frozen surface to defeat the Teutonic Knights, demonstrating how the climate could be turned into a strategic weapon. Today, in a context of climate change and increasing geopolitical rivalries, ice continues to be a central element for controlling resources and Arctic routes, but, compared to the past, we are now able to control it, at least to some extent.

Already during World War II, the Allies experimented with the Habakkuk Project, an aircraft carrier built with pykrete, a material that melts slowly because it is made from a mixture of ice and sawdust. Even today, similar techniques are being studied and used to reinforce landing strips on unstable surfaces like those in Antarctica, allowing air support in otherwise inaccessible areas. Additionally, ice engineering is proving useful for sabotaging infrastructure; Russian experiments have shown how chemicals can be used to accelerate the freezing of water surfaces and hinder enemy navigation. On the other hand, microwave technologies and thermal drones could be employed near rivers and lakes, transforming logistical routes into deadly traps for enemy armored units. The Arctic, once considered a mysterious and impassable barrier, is therefore becoming a laboratory for new military tactics, and ice no longer seems just a scenic element, but a metaphor for a world order that is only seemingly static, concealing, already in its infancy, the cracks of a system ready to implode on itself, crumble disastrously, and reveal new scenarios of opportunity and conflict.

REFERENCES:

1- In the 1950s, the Danish government sent Greenlandic children to Denmark for the purpose of educating them. The idea was to integrate them into Danish culture, but this also led to the loss of their native language.

https://edition.cnn.com/interactive/2022/01/world/greenland-denmark-social-experiment-cmd-idnty-intl-cnnphotos/

2- During the 1960s and 1970s, intrauterine devices were inserted into thousands of Greenlandic girls, often without their consent and under the direction of government officials. Of course, the unspoken goal was to reduce the Inuit population.

https://www.dr.dk/nyheder/indland/groenlandske-politikere-reagerer-paa-spiralsag-retten-til-egen-krop-er-blevet

3- Between 1914 and 1974, Danish law considered the children of unmarried Inuit women as “legally fatherless,” preventing them from inheriting or even knowing their Danish father.

https://knr.gl/da/nyheder/juridisk-faderl%C3%B8se-sender-krav-om-erstatning-til-den-danske-stat

4- https://search.open.canada.ca/grants/?page=1&search_text=P009427001&sort=score+desc&utm_source

5- https://www.inuitcircumpolar.com/media-and-reports/archives/canadian-inuit-initiative-to-assist-the-inuit-of-chukotka-russia/?utm_source

6- https://agupubs.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/pdfdirect/10.1002/2016GL069688

7- https://future.fandom.com/wiki/Russo-Norwegian_War_(Cold_Response)