“Greenland Is Melting—and So Is My Confidence”

There’s something unsettling about watching Greenland slip into Europe’s orbit while the Trump administration responds with bluster and tariffs. The European Union just signed a long-term minerals deal with Greenland—an Arctic territory brimming with rare earth elements essential to everything from electric vehicles to military hardware. It’s a quiet but significant victory for Europe. And a clear failure for us.

Remember when Trump floated the idea of buying Greenland back in 2019? It became a late-night comedy punchline. But behind the bravado was a real strategic insight: Greenland matters. It’s a place of increasing geopolitical relevance and immense untapped natural wealth. It could have been an opportunity to forge a new alliance, secure critical resources, and reassert U.S. leadership in the Arctic.

Instead, the EU moved quickly and effectively. In 2023, it signed a memorandum of understanding with Greenland. This spring, a Danish-French consortium secured a 30-year license to mine anorthosite—a white rock rich in aluminum, micro silica, and calcium. The United States? We responded with a threat: a 50% tariff on all EU imports. That’s not strategy. That’s not leadership. That’s the antithesis of diplomacy.

Now, after a phone call with EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen, the tariff threat has been “delayed.” But we got nothing in return. No minerals. No concessions. No cooperation. Just another self-inflicted wound in an administration that’s rapidly losing the ability to project power—or purpose—abroad.

This is one of those moments that leaves me feeling unsettled about the Trump administration. And it’s part of a broader pattern.

Let’s be clear: this presidency has been a mixed bag, policy-wise. There are some areas I strongly support. Tax cuts, for one—he got them done in 2017, and he’s moving to expand them now. Spending cuts in theory are great, but in practice? Not so much. The new budget still racks up $3 trillion in new debt over the next decade. Better than Biden’s blowouts, but nowhere near what we were promised. And now the administration wants to raise the debt ceiling by another $5 trillion. You don’t cut debt by raising the limit on your credit card.

On immigration, I support the effort to secure the border. But the proposed mass deportation policy is running into headwinds—logistical, legal, and political. I’m not sure the game is worth the candle. Even when I agree with the goal, the execution is chaotic. The only clean win so far is the tax cuts.

And on foreign policy? It’s hard to avoid the conclusion that the wheels are coming off.

The president once billed himself as the ultimate dealmaker, the man who could get peace in Ukraine “in 24 hours” and bring calm to the Middle East. Instead, he’s discovering what most sober observers already knew: Putin isn’t interested in peace, only in victory. Trump’s rhetoric has shifted—he’s no longer quite so chummy with the Kremlin—but the earlier misread of the situation has real costs.

And then there’s Gaza. The war there has only deepened. Israel continues to face existential threats, and for all his campaign talk of standing with our closest ally in the region, Trump now seems to be wavering. “Balancing interests.” “De-escalation.” These aren’t the words of moral clarity—they’re the words of a man who’s losing his nerve. I disagree strongly with this shift. Israel deserves unflinching support in the face of terrorism.

I was watching a documentary recently about the 1990 Gulf War coalition, when the U.S. led a broad alliance to expel Saddam Hussein from Kuwait. It reminded me of something that’s been gnawing at me: we used to lead the free world. That phrase actually meant something. In the early ’90s, America had moral authority, strategic clarity, and allies who trusted us. That era is gone.

We’re now in a world where the EU signs resource deals in our own hemisphere while we posture from the sidelines. Where China and Russia build spheres of influence and we respond with reactive tariffs. Where our own allies aren’t sure whether we’re coming or going. That’s not leadership—it’s drift.

There’s a sadness in all this. A real sense of loss. Not just of influence, but of identity. We’ve gone from global steward to global skeptic. From coalition-builder to loner. And yes, even when I agree with the broad strokes of policy—fiscal restraint, border security, pro-growth tax cuts—I look at the lack of execution, the missed opportunities, and the diminished stature, and I feel a knot in my gut.

Trump may well lose the midterms in 2026. If he does—and especially if Republicans lose the Senate—you can bet impeachment will be back on the table. It would take 67 Senate votes to convict. That’s a high bar. But if enough GOP senators are looking for a parachute, it’s not unthinkable.

So yes, I’m worried. I’m worried about our strategic confusion, our eroding global role, and our inability to deliver on even the parts of the agenda I support. The tax cuts may go through. But beyond that, I’m not sure what’s really getting done—or who, if anyone, is steering the ship.

Greenland is melting. So is my confidence.