In the last 72 hours, a question has crystallised in European capitals: is US president Donald Trump mad, bad or both?
This is neither a frivolous nor a hyperbolic question. Nor, of course, can any clinical answer be offered. But balanced and rational individuals do not write to allied prime ministers as Trump did this week to Norway’s Jonas Gahr Støre. Trump wrote: “Considering your Country decided not to give me the Nobel Peace Prize … I no longer feel an obligation to think purely of peace … Denmark cannot protect that land [Greenland] from Russia or China … The world is not secure unless we have Complete and Total Control of Greenland.” This is a sitting US president anchoring a territorial claim to his petty personal grievance, framed in terms that wipe out the line between transactional diplomacy and military coercion.
What makes this episode so unsettling is not merely its tone, but its substance. Beyond personal grievance and vanity, Trump’s hostility towards Europe has long been manifest: attacks on liberal democratic values, open encouragement of extreme nationalist and populist movements, persistent objections to the European Union’s right to tax and regulate US firms, and – through the new US national security strategy – thinly veiled efforts to fragment the EU itself. To this catalogue we can now add something far more serious: a threat of military force to annex territory belonging to a member state of the EU.
Whether this behaviour reflects caprice, calculation or contempt matters less than its consequences. The strategic question now facing Europe is not psychological, but political: how should Europe respond, and where does Ireland place itself in that response?
Two schools of thought are now visible across European capitals.
The first urges restraint, de-escalation and diplomacy. Figures such as Ursula von der Leyen, Nato secretary general Mark Rutte and many within Europe’s diplomatic establishment argue that Trump can still be managed rather than confronted – flattered where necessary, delayed where possible, and denied the escalation he often appears to seek.
The second camp is more sceptical. They argue that Trump feeds off perceived weakness and retreats only when faced with credible strength. The recent US-China tariff confrontation where sustained retaliation from Beijing forced Washington to moderate its position is frequently cited as evidence that firmness, not accommodation, shapes outcomes.
The EU’s problem is partly structural. Decisions must be forged through consensus among 27 states with differing threat perceptions, economic exposures and political cultures. That inevitably slows response, blurs clarity and generates inertia. Yet these weaknesses are overstated and are rooted in an unwarranted psychological timidity.
The EU remains the world’s largest integrated market, a regulatory superpower and the hub of a global network of free-trade agreements, now including Mercosur. These are not abstract assets; they translate into powerful leverage.
[ Greenland crisis: Advocates for caution may come under pressure at key EU summitOpens in new window ]
There is also direct strategic leverage vis-a-vis the United States. Washington maintains more than 40 large military installations across Europe, hosting thousands of personnel with expensive and immobile infrastructures. These provide the logistical backbone for American global power projection.
Moreover, financial interdependence cuts both ways. European states collectively hold over $3.5 trillion (€3 trillion) in US sovereign debt, accounting for roughly 40 per cent of all foreign-held US Treasury securities. This is not a threat, but it is a reminder the transatlantic relationship is reciprocal rather than one-way.
The EU can also engage its Anti-Coercion Instrument (ACI) – the multi-headed ballistic missile of economic and trade warfare. Where third country coercion is established, the EU can respond with proportionate countermeasures, ranging from tariffs and restrictions on services to limits on investment access and public procurement. It was deliberately designed as a deterrent intended to signal that coercion carries costs. Trump’s explicit linkage of Greenland to punitive tariffs against European states places the current crisis squarely within the ACI’s intended scope. The question is no longer whether the EU has tools at its disposal, but whether it has the political will to use them.
This brings us to Ireland.
The Irish Government’s response has been measured, cautious and deliberately understated. The Taoiseach has stressed the need to lower temperatures and preserve dialogue, insisting that “Ireland believes deeply in the rules-based international order and in resolving disputes through diplomacy, not threats”.
As Cliff Taylor outlined, there are obvious reasons for this restraint. US investment underpins Ireland’s economic model. American multinationals anchor employment, tax revenue and exports. Ireland is acutely exposed to any deterioration in US-EU economic relations.
But caution has limits.
Ireland cannot afford to ignore a direct threat to European sovereignty, territorial integrity and the rule of law. These are not abstract principles for us. During Brexit, EU solidarity was decisive in protecting Irish interests. To look away now from Denmark’s predicament would be to undermine the very norms on which Ireland relies.
Nor does military neutrality justify political silence or economic egoism. Silence in the face of coercion is not neutrality; it would be submission.
This crisis is not ultimately about Greenland. It is about whether territorial sovereignty in Europe remains non-negotiable; whether economic coercion becomes an accepted instrument among allies; and whether the EU is willing to act as a political actor defending its members rather than merely as a market.
Ireland’s interests lie in an EU capable of defending itself. That does not require megaphone diplomacy, but it does require clarity, consistency and a willingness to support collective European action – even when that action carries economic risk. The real danger for Ireland is not provoking Washington. It is discovering, too late, that restraint was mistaken for weakness and ruthlessly exploited as such.
Ben Tonra, MRIA, is full professor of international relations at University College Dublin, a senior fellow at the Azure Forum and a director and secretary (voluntary/non-remunerated) of the Irish Defence and Security Association