Editor's note: Daniel Swedin, a special commentator on current affairs for CGTN, is a political editor and a regular columnist in the Swedish media. The article reflects the author's opinions and not necessarily the views of CGTN.

In U.S. President Donald Trump's repeated threats to abandon Ukraine or withdraw from NATO, the message has been consistent: Europe must take greater responsibility for its own security. The events surrounding Greenland this past weekend expose just how hollow that argument is.

In practice, a handful of NATO countries sent military personnel to Greenland. The aim was to strengthen preparedness in the Arctic and to signal support for Danish sovereignty. The mission had no formal NATO mandate but was conducted within the alliance's framework and in close coordination among member states.

The response from the United States was a threat of sharply increased punitive tariffs against Denmark, Finland, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Norway, Sweden and Britain, explicitly citing their involvement. In other words, European NATO members are being economically punished for assuming responsibility for security in a region described as strategically vital to the entire alliance. Reacting to the threat, the eight countries issued a joint statement on January 18 to affirm their "full solidarity" with Denmark and the Arctic island.

An inexplicable contradiction? Only if European action is judged by its contribution to regional stability. From Washington's perspective, it is not. When European states take initiatives that strengthen their own security but loosen U.S. control, those actions cease to be viewed as constructive. When the United States threatens new tariffs on European goods, it is therefore not correcting trade imbalances. It is enforcing hierarchy. Access to the American market, like access to American security guarantees, is conditional on political alignment. What advances Europe's interests is tolerated only insofar as it also reinforces U.S. control.

Why, then, is pressure directed at allies rather than adversaries? The answer is structural. Allies are more exposed, more dependent, and far less capable of retaliation. Their reliance on U.S. security limits their room for response, making coercion cheap and effective. Rivals resist. Allies absorb. Economic pressure is therefore first tested inside the alliance – not despite Europe's dependence on the United States, but because of it. Loyalty replaces capacity as the test of alliance membership.

The same reasoning explains why China is repeatedly raised in the Arctic debate. Much of the renewed American attention to Greenland has been justified through references to a growing, so-called China threat in the region. Yet these claims sit uneasily with the available evidence. China's presence in the Arctic remains limited and primarily civilian, centered on scientific research, commercial exchange, and long-term economic connectivity.

The purpose of this China narrative is not threat assessment but discipline. It raises the stakes and narrows European room for manoeuvre. By securitizing economic and scientific activity, Washington turns policy disagreement into strategic disloyalty, recasting independent European choices as risks to alliance cohesion rather than political decisions.

The effects are already visible beyond Europe. Faced with sustained U.S. pressure, even close allies have begun to reassess their options. In Canada, Prime Minister Mark Carney has embarked on a more pragmatic recalibration of relations with China, driven by the economic and strategic constraints imposed by sustained U.S. pressure. 

China's approach to international engagement throws this contrast into sharper relief. Rather than relying on formal alliances or military basing, Beijing emphasizes economic integration, infrastructure and industrial scale. For Europe, the difference is not about values but about material conditions.

U.S. pressure seeks to manage this tension through coercion rather than accommodation. European governments are pushed to curtail economic relations, accept higher costs, and subordinate industrial strategy to geopolitical demands, all while remaining dependent on American security guarantees. This does not strengthen the alliance. It hollows it out. Power can compel obedience, but it does not generate commitment.

The asymmetry is now difficult to ignore. It is largely Europe that continues to treat NATO as an ideological alliance. Washington does not. For the United States, protection is transactional and contingent, extended only when it serves a defined strategic purpose. Once this gap becomes clear, appeals to shared values lose their force.

At the core of this shift lies a zero-sum view of power. Gains made by others are treated as losses for the United States, even when those gains strengthen allied capacity. In such a system, cooperation is tolerated only when it produces dependency, and alliance success becomes indistinguishable from strategic erosion.

The U.S. tariff response to the Greenland operation is therefore not a misunderstanding but a diagnosis. It points to an alliance that no longer distributes responsibility, but enforces hierarchy; that no longer coordinates interests but polices loyalty. Greenland is not an anomaly. It is a warning. In today's transatlantic relationship, taking responsibility does not buy autonomy. It tests the limits of permission.

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