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When an elite loses the capacity to imagine, create, and persuade, it may be a harbinger that an era is coming to an end.
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In a burst of posturing during the recent European Arctic Summit in Rovaniemi, Finland, European leaders donned military attire to convey a message of readiness for a confrontation with Russia, while the political and media apparatus repeats, almost in unison, warnings about the “Russian threat.” The Summit’s official declaration places security at the heart of discussions and insists on the need to strengthen the European presence and capabilities in the region, which is deemed strategic for continental security.
There is something deeply unsettling about this staging. These leaders present themselves as representatives of societies mobilized for war, even as they govern deeply divided countries and face a growing erosion of public trust. This gap alone – between leadership rhetoric and the actual disposition of their societies – should counsel prudence. Instead, we are witnessing the creation of a psychological atmosphere of confrontation. And that is precisely where the danger lies.
The real risk of self-destruction
First, there is an element of pretense, as Europe lacks the industrial capacity required to autonomously sustain a prolonged military mobilization on the scale suggested by such warmongering rhetoric. The very effort to rebuild stockpiles, ramp up ammunition production, and restore industrial capacity demonstrates just how much that infrastructure has been scaled back in recent decades. Yet, the most serious issue is not industrial, but strategic.
The Russian Federation possesses a massive nuclear arsenal and advanced strike systems, including hypersonic missiles. This does not mean Russia holds technological superiority in every field, but it points to something far more significant for this discussion: any direct war between the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and Russia would involve forces capable of inflicting destruction on a civilizational scale. Russia and the US continue to hold the overwhelming majority of existing nuclear warheads, even as major nuclear states modernize their arsenals and arms control mechanisms weaken. Therefore, treating a direct confrontation with Russia as merely another foreign policy option is not an act of courage; it is courting the possibility of self-destruction.
Once a certain threshold is crossed, there is no longer any guarantee that events will remain under the control of those who initiated them. This is the crucial point missing from the current warmongering theatricalization.
And there is something even more disturbing. The language of destruction is once again being openly voiced by Western leaders themselves. At the United Nations General Assembly, President Donald Trump proclaimed that the US could “annihilate” Iran if an agreement were not reached. If a threat of this nature – a “final solution” – can be uttered at the UN without triggering a political rupture commensurate with the enormity of the statement, then something extremely serious is happening to the Western perception of the limits of war. For the normalization of the language of annihilation does not necessarily remain confined to the adversary against whom it was originally directed.
Today it might be Iran. Tomorrow, in a spiral of escalation beyond anyone’s control, it could be European cities. It is in this sense that current warmongering fantasies cease to be mere political posturing and begin to represent a concrete danger of self-destruction for European civilization. Europe, which for centuries was a fundamental center of Western civilization, has lived through two world wars and knows firsthand what it means to turn political rivalries into wars of annihilation. Precisely for this reason, one would expect its leaders to be the first to understand that a war between nuclear powers offers no second chance to correct miscalculations. Yet we see them toying with military symbols, mobilizing rhetoric, existential enemies, and the prospect of confrontation, as if we were still living in the world that existed before Hiroshima and Nagasaki. That is precisely the nature of the fiction: portraying war as a readily available political tool without fully confronting what it could actually entail. And if the confrontation spirals out of control, the price will be paid not merely by governments, parties, or military alliances, but by the very civilization these leaders claim to be defending.
Who needs the threat?
So, let us ask: who is behind all this falsehood? Who funds this play? Who needs this constant atmosphere of threats? And why does a political order facing an evident crisis of legitimacy seem to find, in the prospect of war, one of the last narratives capable of justifying its own survival?
The simplest answer would be to explain this attitude as an attempt to prop up unpopular regimes by invoking an imaginary external threat, while simultaneously condemning or suppressing emerging political forces, portrayed as foreign agents or tools of an enemy power – in this case, linked to the Russian “beast”.
Undoubtedly, there is some truth to this. History offers numerous examples of governments resorting to external threats to restore crumbling internal cohesion, discredit opponents, and justify measures that would face greater resistance under normal circumstances. Yet, this explanation is insufficient. The crisis is not merely about the legitimacy of a group of European leaders; it affects the very system that placed them in power – and it is that system which is in crisis.
The crisis of the liberal-financial order
The so-called “rules-based world,” the financial globalization, the free trade elevated to the status of dogma, and the progressive displacement of the productive economy by financialization are being challenged by the resurgence of the sovereign nation-state, industrial policies, energy security, strategic supply chains, and the defense of national economic interests. Paradoxically, this return of the nation-state could also offer a path for the West to reclaim some of its own civilizational roots (that are essentially Christian), in which political power was not conceived as absolute, but rather subject to a higher moral order. At a deeper level, however, what lies behind these chimeras is an even greater crisis: the crisis of the liberal-financial system organized around “independent” central banks, the growing autonomy of financial power from national communities, and an economic conception that, over decades, has progressively shifted the center of wealth from production to financial returns. This system has historical roots in the formation of the Anglo-Dutch commercial and financial order of the 17th and 18th centuries – an order that was subsequently projected across much of the world through British and, later, American imperial and financial structures.
Over time, this model has taken on new forms but retained an essential characteristic: the ability of financial power to present itself as a reality standing almost outside politics, as if its decisions were technical, neutral, and independent of the sovereign choices of societies. It is precisely this architecture that is now being called into question.
A secular religion without the promise of redemption
The underlying system of Western oligarchies has lost the capacity to generate ideas and projects capable of mobilizing societies around a vision of the future. This sterility is also reflected in the mediocrity of much of the current leaders, who act more as administrators of an order in crisis than as creators of a new political reality. Liberal politics has thus transformed into a kind of secular religion devoid of any promise of redemption. And this is perhaps one of its most unsettling characteristics.
The great political movements of the 19th and 20th centuries, even when they led entire societies to catastrophe, still promised some form of historical redemption: the classless society, national greatness, empire, revolution, the “new man,” or a supposedly definitive future order.
The secular religion of the decaying liberal order no longer offers even that. It demands sacrifices without holding out the prospect of a future paradise. It demands impoverishment in the name of stability, a loss of sovereignty in the name of rules, deindustrialization in the name of efficiency and environmental “protection,” and censorship in the name of democracy; ultimately, it even accepts the risk of war to preserve an order whose purpose it can no longer explain. There is no longer a genuine promise of redemption. There is only the promise that the system will continue to exist. In the words of former EU foreign policy chief Josep Borrell, “We are the Garden of Eden; the rest is the jungle.”
At this point, politics ceases to defend society and instead demands that society sacrifice itself to defend the system. This is precisely where a secular religion can become self-destructive: when preserving the existing order comes to matter more than preserving the people living under that order.
From creative minority to dominant minority
This is, perhaps, one of the deepest signs of civilizational exhaustion. An elite ceases to be creative when it can no longer imagine a future distinct from the mere continuation of itself. The English historian Arnold Toynbee grasped this phenomenon with profound insight when he distinguished the creative minority from the dominant minority. A creative minority exercises leadership because it offers responses capable of inspiring allegiance. Its authority stems from its ability to respond to historical challenges and to generate new forms of organization, culture, and meaning. When this capacity vanishes, the former creative minority may transform into a dominant minority – one that no longer leads by inspiring, but sustains itself through control. Persuasion is progressively replaced by discipline; imagination by administration; vision by propaganda; and trust by fear.
It is at this juncture that the system risks turning the crisis itself into a justification for its continued existence. The more it fails, the more power it demands. The more legitimacy it loses, the more it requires enemies. The less it is able to imagine a future, the more dramatically it must portray the present as an existential battle.
When the temporal takes the place of the transcendent
Here, the reflections of German-American philosopher Eric Voegelin on totalitarian ideologies as “political religions” converge with Toynbee’s ideas regarding the disintegration of civilizations. When a society loses its reference to a transcendent order, the human need for the absolute does not necessarily disappear; it may simply be transferred elsewhere. The nation, race, class, party, revolution, the market, “the rules,” or democracy (understood not merely as a political system but as an absolute moral category) – any temporal reality can be sacralized and elevated to a status beyond questioning.
In this process, the temporal takes the place of the transcendent. Yet there is a decisive difference between the political movements of the past and this potential secular religion of an exhausted order. The former promised a future redemption. The latter seems to demand present sacrifice solely to prevent the system from vanishing. It is a secular religion devoid of eschatology, paradise, a “new man,” or a truly new horizon. Its only future is the indefinite continuation of the present.
When fear replaces imagination
This absence of a future may well explain the growing prominence of fear: fear of the external enemy, of rupture, of dissent, of losing control. It is the fear that what was presented for decades as inevitable might suddenly cease to be so. When an order can no longer generate hope, it must generate fear. And when fear replaces imagination, conflict can transform into a form of legitimation. War, then, ceases to be merely an external instrument of policy and can become an internal necessity for the system. It is precisely here that contemporary warmongering fantasies take on a dimension far deeper than the day-to-day debates regarding Russia, Ukraine, NATO, or military spending.
The issue becomes civilizational. An order that has lost the capacity to envision its own future may begin to accept risks that, under normal circumstances, would seem unthinkable. It may end up conflating the survival of its own structures with the survival of civilization itself. And this confusion is among the most dangerous errors an elite can make. For institutions, economic regimes, and political systems are historical constructs; civilizations are far greater than they are. When a system begins to demand that civilization risk itself so that the system may survive, the relationship between means and ends has been completely inverted.
Signs of the end of an era
It is at this point that one can truly speak of self-destruction.
A civilization may begin to self-destruct not because it has ceased to believe, but because it has turned its own historical order into an object of absolute belief. And when leaders can no longer envision a future different from the one they administer; when war begins to replace politics; when fear supplants vision; when the preservation of institutions is deemed more important than the people for whom those institutions ought to exist – then we are facing not merely a political or economic crisis, but a profound crisis of civilization itself.
When an elite loses the capacity to imagine, create, and persuade, it may be a harbinger that an era is coming to an end. Yet, this does not necessarily mean the civilization is doomed. It may signify the exact opposite: that structures no longer capable of meeting present challenges are making way for other forms of organization, new ideas, and the recovery of principles that seemed forgotten. For the loss of a specific vision of order does not spell the end of human imagination. And when those in power can conceive of nothing beyond their own perpetuation, that may well be the very first sign that something new is drawing near.
Líderes europeus vestem uniformes militares e brincam com guerra nuclear. Uma ordem sem futuro troca esperança por medo e arrisca autodestruição.
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Em um surto de simulação, durante a recente Cúpula Europeia do Ártico, em Rovaniemi, Finlândia, líderes europeus vestiram trajes militares para transmitir uma mensagem de preparação para uma confrontação com a Rússia, enquanto a máquina política e midiática repete, quase em uníssono, o alerta contra a “ameaça russa”. A declaração oficial da Cúpula coloca a segurança no centro das discussões e insiste na necessidade de fortalecimento da presença e das capacidades europeias na região, considerada estratégica para a segurança continental.
Essa encenação tem algo de profundamente inquietante. Tais dirigentes apresentam-se na condição de representantes de sociedades mobilizadas para a guerra, enquanto governam países profundamente divididos e enfrentam uma crescente erosão da confiança pública. Por si só, essa distância entre a retórica das lideranças e a disposição real das sociedades deveria recomendar prudência. Em vez disso, assistimos à construção de uma atmosfera psicológica de confrontação. E é justamente aí que começa o perigo.
O risco real de autodestruição
Em primeiro lugar, há um elemento de fingimento, pois a Europa não dispõe das condições industriais necessárias para sustentar autonomamente uma mobilização militar prolongada na escala sugerida pela retórica belicista. O próprio esforço para reconstruir estoques, aumentar a produção de munições e recuperar capacidade industrial demonstra o quanto essa estrutura foi reduzida nas últimas décadas. Mas a questão mais grave não é industrial, mas estratégica.
A Federação Russa dispõe de um enorme arsenal nuclear e de sistemas de ataque avançados, inclusive mísseis hipersônicos. Isto não significa que a Rússia possua superioridade tecnológica em todos os campos, mas algo muito mais importante para essa reflexão: qualquer guerra direta entre a Organização do Tratado do Atlântico Norte (OTAN) e a Rússia envolveria forças capazes de provocar uma destruição de escala civilizacional. A Rússia e os EUA continuam concentrando a esmagadora maioria das ogivas nucleares existentes, ao mesmo tempo em que os principais Estados nucleares modernizam seus arsenais e os mecanismos de controle de armas se enfraquecem. Portanto, tratar uma confrontação direta com a Rússia como apenas mais uma opção de política externa não é demonstração de coragem: é cortejar uma possibilidade de autodestruição.
Quando se atravessa determinado limiar, já não existe garantia de que os acontecimentos permaneçam sob o controle daqueles que os iniciaram. É este o ponto ausente da atual teatralização belicista.
E há algo ainda mais perturbador. A linguagem da destruição voltou a ser pronunciada abertamente pelas próprias lideranças ocidentais. Na Assembleia Geral das Nações Unidas, o presidente Donald Trump proclamou que os EUA poderiam “aniquilar” o Irã caso não fosse alcançado um acordo. Se uma ameaça dessa natureza – uma “solução final” – pode ser pronunciada na ONU sem provocar uma ruptura política proporcional à enormidade do que está sendo dito, algo extremamente grave está ocorrendo com a percepção ocidental dos limites da guerra. Porque a normalização da linguagem de aniquilação não permanece necessariamente confinada ao adversário contra o qual foi originalmente dirigida.
Hoje pode ser o Irã. Amanhã, numa espiral de escalada que ninguém consiga mais controlar, podem ser cidades europeias. É neste sentido que os atuais devaneios belicistas deixam de ser apenas uma encenação política e passam a representar um perigo concreto de autodestruição da própria civilização europeia. A Europa, que durante séculos foi um dos centros fundamentais da civilização ocidental, atravessou duas guerras mundiais e conheceu diretamente o que significa transformar rivalidades políticas em guerras de aniquilação. Justamente por isso, seria de esperar que suas lideranças fossem as primeiras a compreender que uma guerra entre potências nucleares não oferece uma segunda oportunidade para se corrigirem erros de cálculo.
No entanto, os vemos brincando com símbolos militares, discursos de mobilização, inimigos existenciais e horizontes de confrontação, como se ainda estivéssemos no mundo anterior a Hiroshima e Nagasaki. A ficção consiste precisamente nisso: representar a guerra como instrumento político disponível sem encarar até o fim o que ela poderia significar. E, se a confrontação escapar ao controle, não serão apenas governos, partidos ou alianças militares que pagarão o preço, mas a própria civilização que esses dirigentes afirmam estar defendendo.
Quem precisa da ameaça?
Então, perguntemos: quem está por trás de toda essa falsidade? Quem alimenta essa representação? Quem necessita dessa atmosfera permanente de ameaças? E por que uma ordem política em evidente crise de legitimidade parece encontrar na perspectiva da guerra uma das últimas narrativas capazes de justificar a sua própria continuidade?
A resposta mais simplória consistiria em explicar essa atitude como uma tentativa de manter regimes impopulares sob uma imaginária ameaça externa, ao mesmo tempo em que se condenam ou reprimem as forças políticas emergentes, apresentadas como agentes externos ou instrumentos de uma potência inimiga – no caso, vinculadas à “besta” russa.
Sem dúvida, há algo disso. A História oferece numerosos exemplos de governos que recorrem à ameaça externa para recompor coesões internas deterioradas, desacreditar adversários e justificar medidas que enfrentariam maior resistência em circunstâncias normais. Mas essa explicação é insuficiente. A crise não diz respeito apenas à legitimidade de um grupo de líderes europeus. Ela atinge o próprio sistema que os colocou nessa posição de poder – e é ele que está em crise.
A crise da ordem liberal-financeira
O chamado “mundo baseado em regras”, a globalização financeira, o livre comércio elevado à condição de dogma e a progressiva substituição da economia produtiva pela financeirização, estão sendo confrontados pelo retorno do Estado nacional soberano, das políticas industriais, da segurança energética, das cadeias produtivas estratégicas e da defesa dos interesses econômicos nacionais. Paradoxalmente, esse retorno do Estado nacional poderia representar também um caminho para que o Ocidente recuperasse parte de suas próprias raízes civilizatórias, essencialmente cristãs, nas quais o poder político não era concebido como absoluto, mas submetido a uma ordem moral superior.
Em profundidade, porém, o que se encontra por trás dessas quimeras é uma crise ainda maior: a crise do sistema liberal-financeiro organizado em torno de bancos centrais “independentes”, da autonomia crescente do poder financeiro em relação às comunidades nacionais e de uma concepção econômica que, ao longo de décadas, deslocou progressivamente o centro da riqueza da produção para as rendas financeiras. Esse sistema possui raízes históricas na formação da ordem comercial e financeira anglo-holandesa dos séculos XVII e XVIII, que posteriormente seria projetada sobre grande parte do mundo por meio das estruturas imperiais e financeiras britânicas e, depois, estadunidenses.
Com o passar do tempo, esse modelo adquiriu formas novas, mas conservou uma característica essencial: a capacidade do poder financeiro de se apresentar como uma realidade quase exterior à política, como se suas decisões fossem técnicas, neutras e independentes das escolhas soberanas das sociedades. É justamente essa arquitetura que hoje começa a ser questionada.
Uma religião secular sem promessa de redenção
O sistema profundo das oligarquias ocidentais perdeu a capacidade de gerar ideias e projetos capazes de mobilizar as sociedades em torno de um horizonte de futuro. Essa esterilidade se expressa também na mediocridade de grande parte das atuais lideranças, cada vez mais administradoras de uma ordem em crise do que criadoras de uma nova realidade política. A política liberal transformou-se, assim, em uma espécie de religião secular sem promessa de redenção. E esta talvez seja uma de suas características mais inquietantes.
Os grandes movimentos políticos dos séculos XIX e XX, mesmo quando conduziram sociedades inteiras à catástrofe, ainda prometiam alguma forma de redenção histórica: a sociedade sem classes, a grandeza nacional, o império, a revolução, o homem novo ou uma ordem futura supostamente definitiva.
A religião secular da ordem liberal em decomposição já não oferece sequer isso. Ela exige sacrifícios sem apresentar um paraíso futuro. Exige empobrecimento em nome da estabilidade, perda de soberania em nome das regras, desindustrialização em nome da eficiência e da “proteção” do meio ambiente, censura em nome da democracia e, finalmente, admite até mesmo o risco da guerra em nome da preservação de uma ordem cuja finalidade já não consegue explicar. Não existe mais uma verdadeira promessa de redenção. Existe apenas a promessa de que o sistema continuará existindo. Nas palavras do ex-chanceler da União Europeia, Josep Borrel, “nós somos o jardim do Éden, o resto é a selva”.
Nesse ponto, a política deixa de defender a sociedade e passa a exigir que a sociedade se sacrifique para defender o sistema. É precisamente aí que uma religião secular pode tornar-se autodestrutiva: quando a conservação da ordem existente passa a valer mais do que a conservação daqueles que vivem sob essa ordem.
Da minoria criadora à minoria dominante
Esse é, talvez, um dos sinais mais profundos de esgotamento civilizatório. Uma elite deixa de ser criadora quando já não consegue imaginar um futuro distinto da simples continuação de si mesma. O historiador inglês Arnold Toynbee percebeu com enorme profundidade esse fenômeno ao distinguir a minoria criadora da minoria dominante. Uma minoria criadora exerce liderança, porque oferece respostas capazes de inspirar adesão. Sua autoridade nasce de sua capacidade de responder aos desafios históricos e de produzir formas novas de organização, cultura e sentido. Quando essa capacidade desaparece, a antiga minoria criadora pode converter-se numa minoria dominante, que já não lidera porque inspira, mas conserva-se porque controla. A persuasão é progressivamente substituída pela disciplina; a imaginação, pela administração; o projeto, pela propaganda; e a confiança, pelo medo.
É nesse momento que o sistema corre o risco de transformar a própria crise em justificativa para continuar existindo. Quanto mais fracassa, mais exige poder. Quanto mais perde legitimidade, mais necessita de inimigos. Quanto menos consegue imaginar um futuro, mais dramaticamente precisa apresentar o presente como uma batalha existencial.
Quando o temporal ocupa o lugar do transcendente
Aqui, a reflexão do filósofo germano-estadunidense Eric Voegelin sobre as ideologias totalitárias como “religiões políticas” se encontra com a de Toynbee sobre a desintegração das civilizações. Quando uma sociedade perde a referência a uma ordem transcendente, a necessidade humana do absoluto não desaparece necessariamente. Ela pode simplesmente ser transferida. A nação, a raça, a classe, o partido, a revolução, o mercado, as “regras”, a democracia entendida não como regime político, mas como categoria moral absoluta – qualquer realidade temporal pode ser sacralizada e elevada a uma condição que já não admite questionamento.
Nesse processo, o temporal ocupa o lugar do transcendente. Mas há uma diferença decisiva entre os antigos movimentos políticos e essa possível religião secular de uma ordem esgotada. Os primeiros prometiam uma redenção futura. Essa última parece pedir o sacrifício presente apenas para impedir que o sistema desapareça. É uma religião secular sem escatologia, paraíso, homem novo e um horizonte verdadeiramente novo. Seu único futuro é a continuação indefinida do presente.
Quando o medo substitui a imaginação
Possivelmente, essa ausência de futuro é o que explica a crescente importância do medo: do inimigo externo; da ruptura; da dissidência; da perda do controle. O medo de que aquilo que durante décadas foi apresentado como inevitável deixe subitamente de sê-lo. Quando uma ordem não consegue mais produzir esperança, precisa produzir medo. E quando o medo substitui a imaginação, o conflito pode converter-se numa forma de legitimação. A guerra, então, deixa de ser apenas um instrumento externo de política e pode tornar-se uma necessidade interna do sistema. É justamente aí que os devaneios belicistas contemporâneos adquirem uma dimensão muito mais profunda do que a discussão cotidiana sobre a Rússia, Ucrânia, OTAN ou os gastos militares.
A questão passa a ser civilizacional. Uma ordem que perdeu a capacidade de imaginar o seu próprio futuro pode começar a aceitar riscos que, em condições normais, pareceriam impensáveis. Pode terminar confundindo a sobrevivência de suas estruturas com a sobrevivência da própria civilização. E essa confusão é uma das mais perigosas que uma elite possa cometer. Porque instituições, regimes econômicos e sistemas políticos são históricos. Civilizações são muito maiores do que eles. Quando um sistema passa a exigir que a civilização se arrisque para que ele próprio sobreviva, a relação entre meios e fins foi completamente invertida.
Os sinais de uma mudança de época
É nesse ponto que se torna possível falar verdadeiramente em autodestruição.
Uma civilização pode começar a autodestruir-se, não porque tenha deixado de acreditar, mas porque transformou a sua própria ordem histórica em objeto de crença absoluta. E quando os dirigentes deixam de imaginar um futuro diferente daquele que administram; quando a guerra começa a substituir a política; quando o medo substitui o projeto; quando a conservação das instituições passa a ser considerada mais importante do que as pessoas para as quais essas instituições deveriam existir; não estamos diante apenas de uma crise política ou econômica, mas de uma profunda crise civilizacional.
E quando uma elite perde a capacidade de imaginar, criar e persuadir, isto pode ser o sinal premonitório de que uma época está terminando. Mas não necessariamente de que a civilização esteja condenada. Pode significar exatamente o contrário: que as estruturas que já não conseguem responder aos desafios do presente estão abrindo espaço para outras formas de organização, outras ideias e uma recuperação de princípios que pareciam esquecidos. Porque a perda da imaginação de uma ordem não significa o fim da imaginação humana. E quando aqueles que governam já não conseguem conceber nada além da perpetuação de si mesmos, talvez, este seja precisamente o primeiro sinal de que algo novo começa a aproximar-se.
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James Jatras, a veteran U.S. foreign policy analyst, discusses how the recent security deal between Trump and Denmark over Greenland is really about easing tensions within NATO.
And keeping the Western military bloc hard-focused on Russia.
The signing of a new security agreement with Danish PM Mette Frederiksen on the sidelines of the United Nations General Assembly on September 22 looked odd. Frederiksen was photographed smiling with Trump, yet only a few months ago, the Danish leader and other European governments were in uproar over Trump’s threats to annex Greenland.
The Arctic island has an abundance of untapped mineral and rare-earth metals. Trump has framed the annexation as a benign move by the U.S. for protection against Russia and China. He previously ridiculed Denmark’s defenses as amounting to “two dogsleds.”
Recall that earlier this year Trump was threatening to withdraw from NATO if the U.S. was not given full control over Greenland. The Europeans then sprang to Copenhagen’s support and pledged to send troops to Greenland to defend Danish sovereignty.
But with the new security deal, all the recriminations seem to have disappeared. Danish PM Federiksen is smiling like a “Cheshire Cat,” and European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen hailed the renewed strengthening of the NATO bloc.
Jatras contends that Trump does not acquire any significant access to Greenland’s vast natural resources after this new deal. Denmark still retains sovereignty over the Arctic island, albeit describing it as a self-ruling territory under Greenlander administration.
What Trump gets is more U.S. militarization of the Arctic territory, which is actually what the European NATO members want.
Washington is planning to increase American military bases in Greenland and install an anti-missile defense shield called Golden Dome. This militarization will exacerbate already fraught tensions with Moscow because it potentially makes Russia more vulnerable to a nuclear attack from a new front in the Arctic.
The European NATO leaders don’t like Trump, notes Jatras, but they are worried that his maverick behavior is undermining the unity of the transatlantic alliance, which is, in turn, weakening the anti-Russia agenda.
By giving Trump the appearance of increased security control over Greenland, Denmark and the other European NATO hawks gain a more unified alliance whose top priority is to ramp up the anti-Russia agenda, as seen primarily with the proxy war in Ukraine.
In this interview, we discuss other issues: the dearth of diplomacy in Washington since the end of the Cold War, the duplicity in the Trump administration claiming it wants peace with Moscow yet doing nothing to pursue that, indeed doing the opposite, like ending arms control treaties and militarizing the Arctic.
Jatras is pessimistic about the prospects of the political class in the U.S. and Europe finding a breakthrough out of increasingly dangerous relations with Russia. He sees the only way forward as the total internal collapse in the West, leading to a new political leadership. The current dynamic and lack of diplomacy in the West are leading to war.
Trump’s plan for militarizing the Arctic at the cajoling of Europeans is another ominous sign among many.
Towns and cities from around the Arctic took part in the launch of an EU-funded Arctic co-operation initiative that will enable more municipal leaders, Indigenous representatives and youth to work together.
The European Union has launched a new initiative gathering 21 towns and cities from across the Arctic to work together on shared priorities. BRIDGE, Building Resilient International Dialogue and Governance for Arctic Engagement, is led by the Arctic Mayors’ Forum (AMF), building on the foundations of the Arctic Regional and Urban Cooperation network (AURC).
“At a time of ever-increasing environmental and geopolitical change, cooperation among Arctic communities is more important than ever,” said Peter M. Wagner, Head of the European Commission’s Service for Foreign Policy Instruments, speaking at the EU Arctic Forum 2026 in Brussels. “We are proud to launch a new phase of EU support to Arctic cities forging connections across borders, building local capacity, and delivering tangible benefits for their residents.”
“A safe, resilient and inclusive Arctic isn't a side interest for the EU, it's a shared project,” said Patti Bruns, AMF Secretary General. “I’m excited about our work over the next four years, bringing together communities from Alaska, Canada, Greenland, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, Norway, Sweden and Finland to strengthen cooperation between local governments who face increasing challenges – and opportunities.”
More cities co-operating in a permanent structure
BRIDGE integrates AURC’s approaches and methods into AMF’s permanent structure, extending the cooperation to more Arctic mayors and urban practitioners.
Despite variations in size and governance structures, Arctic communities share a surprising range of challenges. Building on AURC achievements, these cities are now identifying common themes for the next four years of peer learning, exchanges, study visits, and collaborative problem-solving.
AURC sparked positive changes in Arctic communities
In 2024, AURC gathered 15 Arctic local authorities from Canada, Finland, Greenland, Iceland, Norway, Sweden and Alaska in the United States for the first time to work together on sustainable development. After two years of structured cooperation with expert support, positive local results were already visible.
“Whether it was learning from Tromsø’s approach to community hubs or troubleshooting heavy equipment with our Canadian neighbours, AURC provided us with a roadmap for growth,” says Assisaun Toovak, Mayor of Utqiaġvik, the northernmost town in the United States. “We aren’t just a remote town in Alaska: we’re a key player in a global Arctic community.”
From new international welcome houses and services in Rovaniemi (Finland), Gällivare and Luleå (Sweden) and Tromsø (Norway) to plans for a new Youth Commission in Fairbanks North Star Borough (USA) inspired by peers in Sweden, Norway, Iceland and elsewhere, AURC sparked an array of positive local changes across the Arctic. These span citizen engagement and youth participation; attracting and retaining talent; sustainable tourism; culture and inclusive economic development; and resilience and emergency preparedness.
Arctic connections supporting resilience and sustainability
Beyond these tangible changes on the ground, trusted exchanges between mayors and staff of Arctic local authorities are boosting knowledge, capacity to adapt, and new initiatives. So far, these include cross-border cultural exchanges, focused workshops for sustainable Arctic tourism professionals, and best-practice sharing on wildfire preparedness.
Another major result is a new Interreg Aurora project TALENT NORTH, Attracting and Anchoring Global Talent in the Arctic, developed by the Arctic Six universities alliance and AMF, along with administrations and universities of several Arctic cities.
Erkki Parkkinen, Mayor of Salla, Lapland (Finland), said: “It was the best thing for Salla to join AURC: I can now exchange good practices with friends across the Arctic. It’s very important for our municipalities to stay in touch with each other, for the future of the Arctic, for resilience.”
Read more about positive changes EU-funded cooperation has sparked in Arctic towns and cities.
BRIDGE is funded by the European Commission’s Service for Foreign Policy Instruments (FPI), working closely with the European External Action Service, the diplomatic wing of the EU, and the Directorate-General for Maritime Affairs and Fisheries (DG MARE).
Arctic Mayors’ Forum is pan-Arctic forum representing the voices of Arctic Peoples through elected leaders at the municipal and community level. They provide an open, collaborative platform for their members, including Indigenous Peoples from around the Arctic.
On 1 September in Brussels, Fisheries and Oceans Commissioner Costas Kadis and Intergenerational Fairness, Youth, Culture and Sport Commissioner Glenn Micallef jointly hosted the Youth Policy Dialogue ‘How to make Arctic youth participation more inclusive’.
The ten young participants were selected via the EU-funded project Youth Together for Arctic Futures, a workstream under the EU Arctic Youth Dialogue initiative. During the discussion, they will share their experiences and ideas on how the EU can better support the inclusive participation of Arctic youth in decision-shaping processes on issues that matter to young people. During the dialogue, the Commissioners will also ask for the participants’ opinions on the forthcoming Blue Generational Renewal Strategy, a flagship initiative under the European Ocean Pact aimed at making careers in the maritime sectors more attractive.
The Dialogue took place in the framework of the EU Arctic Forum and the Arctic Youth and Indigenous Peoples’ Dialogues, which took place on 1-2 September opened by International Partnerships Commissioner Jozef Síkela and Kadis. The Forum came at an important moment as the EU is updating its Arctic policy in the context of evolving geopolitical, economic and environmental developments.
The EU Arctic Forum, Arctic Youth and Indigenous Peoples’ Dialogues, which bring together a range of Arctic stakeholders to discuss developments in the region and the future of the EU’s engagement in the Arctic, are integral parts of the EU Arctic policy. Youth Policy Dialogues are part of the European Commission's commitment to mainstream the voice of young people in EU policymaking, as set out in President von der Leyen's Political Guidelines for 2024-2029.
The conscripts are part of the first group recruited under Denmark's expanded military service program.
The post Denmark deploys conscripts to Greenland, fueling fresh Arctic tensions appeared first on BOL News.
Brussels (dpa) – Germany and the other European Union member states could be required to provide assistance at Denmark’s request in the event of a violent conflict over Greenland, a spokeswoman for EU foreign policy chief Kaja Kallas said on Thursday.
The comments came after inconclusive talks between US and Danish officials in Washington on Wednesday.
Greenland is part of the territory of the Kingdom of Denmark, a NATO member, and therefore in principle falls under the mutual solidarity clause in Article 42(7) of the EU treaty, the spokeswoman told dpa.
At the same time, she emphasised that the question of applying it is not now on the table since a military confrontation with the United States is considered very unlikely because presumably no one would take on the world’s most powerful military power.
US President Donald Trump wants to incorporate the vast, resource-rich island into the United States, saying the US needs to own the country for its security needs, which he sees as being threatened by China and Russia.
The Europeans want to convince Trump that Greenland can be best protected within NATO.
Following unsuccessful talks in Washington on Wednesday to resolve the Greenland dispute, EU states including Germany announced they would send troops to the island for a mission in support of Denmark.Russia’s ambassador to Denmark, Vladimir Barbin, has accused NATO of seeking to militarise the Arctic amid the US demands. He said Copenhagen was pursuing a confrontational approach by involving NATO, driving a rise in military tensions in the Arctic. (15-16 January)
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