Though bruised and battered, the bond between Europe and the United States that has endured 80 uninterrupted years lives to see another day.
That was the message that visibly relieved European leaders conveyed at the end of an extraordinary week that brought the two sides of the Atlantic dangerously close to an all-out, calamitous trade war over the future of Greenland.
For a total of five days, Donald Trump kept the continent on tenterhooks with his shock threat to impose an additional 10% tariff on eight European countries, all NATO members, in an attempt to strong-arm the acquisition of the mineral-rich, semi-autonomous island that belongs to the Kingdom of Denmark.
“This tariff will be due and payable until such time as a deal is reached for the complete and total purchase of Greenland,” Trump wrote in his now-infamous message.
The outrage was deafening. Presidents and prime ministers came forth in unison to support Denmark’s sovereignty and denounce what they saw as blatant blackmail from a president intent on reshaping the global order according to his own vision.
“No intimidation nor threat will influence us,” said French President Emmanuel Macron.
What followed that first wave of condemnations was a frantic race against the clock to convince Trump to abandon his annexationist agenda and salvage the transatlantic relationship – and to prepare to hit back should the worst come to pass.
EU ambassadors met on Sunday, the day after Trump’s social media message, to begin preparations for February 1, the day on which the 10% tariffs were due to take effect.
France took the lead by publicly calling for the activation of the Anti-Coercion Instrumentwhich would allow broad retaliation across multiple economic sectors. Originally designed with China in mind, the instrument has never been used – not even during last year’s trade negotiations with the White House, when Trump continuously upped the ante to browbeat Europeans into wide-ranging concessions.
Back then, member states had been sharply split on how to respond, with France and Spain advocating an offensive, and Italy and Germany urging a compromise. But this time, it was different – terribly so.
Trump was no longer applying tariffs to rebalance trade flows and boost domestic manufacturing, the reasons he had cited on his “Liberation Day” in spring 2025. This time, he was seeking to apply tariffs to seize territory from an ally.
“Plunging us into a dangerous downward spiral would only aid the very adversaries we are both so committed to keeping out of our strategic landscape,” Ursula von der Leyen, the president of the European Commission, said in a speech in Davos. “So our response will be unflinching, united and proportional.”
The unprecedented dimension of the challenge weighed heavily on capitals, which swiftly came to terms with the prospect of actual retaliation. It was a stark contrast from the political divisions and reservations that plagued the 2025 talks.
Diplomats in Brussels spoke of a collective determination to endure economic pain for the sake of defending Greenland, Denmark and the sovereignty of the entire bloc. A detailed list of tit-for-tat measures worth €93 billion was put on the table to be introduced as soon as Trump’s additional duties entered into force.
In parallel, the European Parliament, enraged by Trump’s ultimatum, voted to indefinitely delay the ratification of the EU-US trade deal, blocking the zero-tariff benefits for American-made products that von der Leyen and Trump agreed on in July.
Push and pull
And yet, as European leaders closed ranks and pushed back against Trump’s expansionism, they also made it clear to everyone who was listening that diplomacy was their preferred option to keep the transatlantic alliance alive.
“We want to avoid any escalation in this dispute if at all possible,” said German Chancellor Friedrich Merz. “We simply want to try to resolve this problem together.”
Europeans began searching for an “off-ramp”, as Finnish President Alexander Stubb aptly put it, to prevent a full-blown clash, safeguard Greenland and let Trump score a victory of sorts. Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni suggested that Trump might have misunderstood the purpose of the reconnaissance mission sent to the island, which he cited in his social post as justification for threatening the 10% tariff.
At first, the diplomatic overtures fell flat. Von der Leyen and Merz attempted to meet Trump in Davos, but despite rampant speculation, the bilaterals never took place. Meanwhile, Trump leaked a text message from Macron in which the French leader told him, “I do not understand what you are doing on Greenland”.
The text, confirmed as authentic by a source in the French president’s entourage, also pitched a G7 summit with “the Russians in the margins”, a proposal that immediately raised eyebrows given Europe’s common strategy to isolate the Kremlin internationally.
As tensions rose ever higher, Trump took the stage at the World Economic Forum and doubled down on his desire to take over Greenland, which he at times referred to as “Iceland”.
“We want a piece of ice for world protection, and they (Europeans) won’t give it,” he told the packed room in Davos. “They have a choice: you can say ‘yes’ and we’ll be very appreciative, and you can say ‘no’ and we will remember.”
Yet Trump also said he did not want to use military force to accomplish his territorial designs, something which he had previously refused to rule out. The Europeans quickly caught on to the nuance and hoped that an opening was about to emerge.
The speech paved the way for NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte, who had kept a low profile in the spiraling crisis, to meet with Trump in Davos and strike what the two men called a “framework deal“to enhance security in Greenland and the entire Arctic region.
The agreement, details of which have not yet been made public and are subject to further discussions, was the “off-ramp” that allies were desperately looking for: Trump confirmed he would no longer apply tariffs or pursue the ownership of Greenland.
By the time EU leaders met in Brussels on Thursday for an emergency summit convened in reaction to the showdown, the atmosphere had shifted.
Prime ministers were seen shaking hands and patting each other’s backs with wide smiles on their faces. Upon arrival, they told reporters the transatlantic bond was too valuable to be ditched in one week.
The respite in the room was palpable, despite a sense of restlessness and confusion hanging in the air – and lingering fears that Trump’s Greenland fixation might return.
“We remain extremely vigilant and ready to use our tools if there are further threats,” Macron said, praising Europe’s display of unity.
The morning after the late-night summit, Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen met with Mark Rutte in Brussels and later flew to Nuuk to dispel the impression that the framework deal would be written without Danish or Greenlandic consent.
Whiplash
In a way, the chain of events ended as it started, with Europeans calling the US their closest ally and vowing to work together to confront global challenges.
But beneath the surface, a painful reckoning was underway.
Europeans have spent the last year scrambling to contain Trump’s mercurial foreign policy, watching in disbelief as he floated business ventures with the Kremlin, sanctioned judges of the International Criminal Court, removed Nicolás Maduro from power in Venezuela, and expanded the Board of Peace ostensibly set up to manage post-war Gaza into a rival of the United Nations.
While those disruptive actions were, to a greater or lesser extent, tolerated, Trump’s heavy-handed pursuit of Greenland proved to be too much to bear. For many, the tariff threat crossed a line and set a precedent, even if it was eventually withdrawn.
The whiplash from this turbulent week will not disappear.
As von der Leyen said, it will only amplify calls for a more independent Europe with a wider net of partners to fall back on.
“Everybody has drawn the conclusion that the relationship is on a different footing,” said a senior EU official. “And that requires decisions on our side.”