Ah, yes, the classic foreign policy move: eye a strategic chunk of ice bigger than Texas, declare it must be yours “one way or another,” and then act surprised when your long-time NATO buddy starts looking at you like you’re the ex who won’t stop texting at 3 a.m. President Trump’s revived obsession with acquiring Greenland—first floated as a cheeky real-estate deal in 2019, now upgraded to vague military-threat territory in his second term—has managed to turn a reliable ally into a diplomatic headache. But let’s be clear: Denmark and Greenland are emphatically not America’s enemies. In fact, they’re the kind of allies who show up when it counts, bleed for the cause, and then get rewarded with public musings about forced annexation. Charming.

The Post-9/11 Loyalty Test: Denmark Actually Showed Up

When the towers fell on September 11, 2001, NATO invoked Article 5 for the first (and so far only) time in its history. An attack on one is an attack on all. The United States called, and Denmark—tiny, prosperous, usually more known for pastries than combat—didn’t just RSVP. They deployed troops to the sharp end.
Denmark sent around 9,500 personnel to Afghanistan between 2002 and 2013, mostly in the brutal Helmand Province as part of the British-led task force. They fought in some of the war’s nastiest spots, suffered ambushes, IEDs, and prolonged sieges (remember Musa Qala in 2006?). The result? 43 Danish soldiers killed in Afghanistan alone—the highest per-capita loss of any NATO ally, even edging out the United States in proportional sacrifice for a nation of under 6 million people. That’s not “token support.” That’s putting skin in the game.
And it didn’t stop there. Denmark was one of the few countries (and the only Scandinavian one) to join the U.S.-led invasion and occupation of Iraq, deploying forces despite domestic controversy. Another 8 Danish soldiers died in Iraq. In total, over 50 Danish troops never came home from these post-9/11 operations.
President Obama once publicly thanked Denmark for its “extraordinary contributions” in Helmand, noting they operated “without caveat” and took “significant casualties.” Yet here we are, years later, with threats to seize Greenland dangling like a bad punchline. If that’s how we treat allies who literally died defending our collective security, no wonder the rest of NATO is side-eyeing the whole thing.

The Greenland Reality Check: Already a Cooperative Arrangement

Greenland isn’t some hostile foreign outpost—it’s Danish sovereign territory, but the U.S. has had a cozy military foothold there since World War II. The 1951 Defense of Greenland Agreement lets American forces operate bases like Pituffik Space Base (formerly Thule Air Base), with radar systems crucial for missile defense and Arctic monitoring.

U.S. planes fly over, land, and conduct operations with Danish cooperation—no need for a takeover when you already have the keys.

Denmark has consistently facilitated U.S. access while balancing Greenlandic self-governance. Recent years have seen upgrades to early-warning systems tied to ballistic missile defense, plus joint economic and environmental cooperation. In short: the current setup works for American national security interests without anyone needing to wave invasion threats around. Why risk blowing up a perfectly functional alliance over something that’s already half yours?

The Backfire Potential: Bravado Meets Reality

Trump’s approach—bluster first, details later—might play well in rally crowds, but it’s textbook overreach when directed at a NATO ally. Danish leaders (and Greenlanders, who poll at ~85% against joining the U.S.) have called it “absurd,” with warnings that any military move would spell “the end of NATO.” Other European allies are rallying behind Denmark, boosting military exercises in Greenland as a not-so-subtle signal. Threatening to invade a partner that invoked Article 5 for us, sent troops to our wars, and hosts our Arctic bases? That’s not “winning” the negotiation—it’s handing Russia and China the propaganda gift of a fractured West on a silver platter.

In the end, Denmark and Greenland aren’t enemies. They’re the friends who had your back when it was dangerous, expensive, and unpopular. Treating them like a hostile takeover target is not just bad strategy—it’s hilariously tone-deaf. Maybe next time, try diplomacy instead of threats. Or at least buy them dinner first. After all, they’ve already paid in blood.

Last night, a lot of people thought it was finally happening.

American jets were spotted moving over eastern Iraq in the dark hours—right around 2:00 a.m. local time, which lines up to roughly 6:00 p.m. Eastern back home. The timing, the routing, the sudden tension in the air—everything about it looked like the opening chapter of a strike package headed toward Iran.

And then… it stopped.

At the last minute, it appears President Trump pulled the plug. The attack that seemed imminent never materialized. No explosions. No confirmation. Just silence—followed by a wave of confusion, frustration, and, inside Iran, something worse: despair.

So today, let’s break down what likely happened, what it says about the administration’s thinking, and why oil—yes, oil—may be the hidden hinge this entire decision swung on.

Before We Talk Strategy, Let’s Talk Reality

Iran’s regime wants the world to believe the killing has stopped.

It hasn’t.

The government did what authoritarian governments always do when they feel heat: they ran a charm offensive. They went on TV, smiled for the cameras, and tried to rebrand the slaughter.

“We’re not shooting protesters,” they say. “We’re only shooting terrorists.”

But “terrorist,” in their vocabulary, has become a synonym for “anyone who wants freedom.”

The truth is ugly, and it’s everywhere—if you know where to look. Security forces moving through streets on motorcycles. Automatic gunfire echoing through neighborhoods. People being detained, beaten, disappeared. Executions delayed in public—while violence continues behind a blackout.

The regime’s message is simple: We’re in control.
The reality is also simple: They’re staying in control by murdering civilians.

The Trump Briefing That Raised Eyebrows

Earlier in the day, President Trump was asked about reports of killings and executions. His response—paraphrased—suggested he’d been told the violence was “stopping,” and that planned executions weren’t going forward.

Here’s the problem: there’s ample evidence it wasn’t stopping.

That leaves two possibilities:

1. He’s being lied to, and nobody around him is willing to put real truth on his desk.

2. He’s playing political theater, saying one thing publicly while keeping Iran guessing privately.

If you’ve watched Trump over the years, you know he has a pattern: he’ll often sound like he’s easing off right before applying pressure. It’s why a lot of people expected strikes that night. The posture looked like a feint—until it looked like more than a feint.

Because everything lined up.

Airspace restrictions. Civilian flight maps going dark over Iran. Shelters being opened. Reports of Iranian aircraft scrambling.

And then nothing.

The “Ghost Fleet” Seizure That Shouldn’t Be Ignored

While everyone was staring at Iran, the U.S. made another major move elsewhere: another very large crude carrier was seized in the Caribbean—the sixth tanker taken in this campaign.

I’m coming to you tonight from Panama, and that probably sounds like a long way from Tehran. But in a world where missiles can cross borders in minutes and regimes can fall in days, geography doesn’t always determine relevance. The story unfolding in Iran right now is one of those moments that demands attention, because it isn’t merely a protest movement or a political quarrel inside a faraway country. It is a government turning its weapons inward, and it is a population pleading—openly, desperately—for outside help before the slaughter becomes irreversible.

For nearly three weeks, protests have continued inside Iran. The problem is not that people have stopped resisting; it’s that they are being crushed with a level of violence that would stagger even seasoned war reporters. What we are hearing from reputable sources, including the Institute for the Study of War, is that protest activity has dropped sharply in recent days. That decline is not a sign that the people have lost their will. It is a sign that the regime has decided to make an example out of dissent, and it is doing so through mass killings and terror tactics designed to empty the streets.

There are estimates circulating that suggest somewhere between ten and twenty thousand protesters have already been killed. Those numbers are difficult to confirm in real time—because the regime has aggressively restricted information leaving the country—but the pattern is consistent across multiple sources and across what we can see and hear in the footage that does emerge. In one clip, gunfire crackles in the background as young people stand their ground, unarmed, refusing to be scattered. In another, a man who escaped into Turkey breaks down, crying, and says plainly that the regime is “killing everyone,” and that nothing will change unless help comes from outside Iran. His words are not rhetorical. They are survival math.

That is the part many outsiders still fail to grasp: the people do not have weapons. The regime does. When you hear sustained gunfire in Tehran, you are not hearing a revolution fighting back. You are hearing state forces firing into crowds, and you are hearing a government that believes it can solve political weakness with kinetic force. It is the kind of violence that makes every claim of “reform” or “moderation” sound absurd, because a regime that shoots its own civilians as policy is not a regime that can be negotiated into decency.

And then there is the silence—the strange, selective silence—from the very institutions and personalities that claim to exist for moments like this. Where is the UN? Where is the International Criminal Court? Where are the activists who have made careers out of accusing others of genocide? Where are the street protests in Western capitals when Iranian teenagers are reportedly being murdered in their homes? You don’t have to like my tone to understand my point: the outrage appears whenever it is politically convenient, and it disappears whenever the victims do not serve the right narrative.