In the gilded echo chambers of Davos and the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors of Brussels, the world’s most expensive bureaucrats are currently having what they call a 'moment of truth.' For those of us who haven't spent our lives breathing the rarified air of policy centers, a 'moment of truth' is simply the realization that the neighborhood bully has finally noticed you’re carrying lunch money. Donald Trump, a man whose understanding of international diplomacy is indistinguishable from a late-night infomercial for Florida timeshares, has set his sights on Greenland. He doesn't want to visit it; he wants to own it. And if Denmark won't sell, he’ll simply tax their butter and bacon into oblivion. It is the ultimate expression of the American ethos: if you can’t buy it, break it.

Enter the European Union, a collection of nations that functions like a homeowners' association with an existential crisis. Georg Riekeles, the associate director of the European Policy Centre, is sounding the alarm, suggesting that Europe has a choice: fight back or cease to matter. It’s a quaint sentiment, really. The idea that Europe currently 'matters' in a way that isn't purely archival is the kind of delusion that keeps the wine industry afloat. Riekeles argues that the EU must defend Denmark's interests or risk being 'emptied of purpose.' One might argue that the purpose of the EU has long been to provide a dignified retirement for politicians who are too boring for their home countries, but Riekeles is thinking bigger. He sees a geopolitical actor. I see a group of museum curators trying to play poker with a man who thinks the cards are edible.

The strategy of the United States is, as always, devoid of subtlety. It is economic coercion masquerading as 'the art of the deal.' The threat of tariffs is the only tool in the current administration’s belt—a hammer that sees every sovereign nation as a particularly stubborn nail. The demand for territorial concessions in exchange for not ruining a trade relationship is a move straight out of the 19th century, albeit updated for a 21st-century audience with the attention span of a goldfish. Trump isn't interested in the strategic value of the Arctic or the mineral rights beneath the ice; he wants a win that he can slap a gold-plated logo on. It is Manifest Destiny for the Mar-a-Lago set.

Meanwhile, the EU’s 'tough rebukes' in Davos are the geopolitical equivalent of a strongly worded Yelp review. They talk of 'concrete action' and 'defending member states,' but the reality is far more pathetic. The EU is a machine designed for peace-time consensus, a Byzantine structure of committees and sub-committees that requires three years of deliberation to decide on the proper curve of a banana. When faced with a US president who treats international law like a suggestion on a cereal box, the EU’s institutional inertia becomes a liability. They are bringing a library book to a knife fight. Riekeles’ plea for the EU to find its purpose ignores the fact that the EU’s primary purpose is to avoid conflict at all costs, even if that cost is its own relevance.

Let’s look at the players. On one side, we have an American administration that views the world as a series of hostile takeovers. It is a philosophy of greed unburdened by intellect. On the other side, we have a European leadership that views the world as a seminar on ethics. It is a philosophy of pretension unburdened by action. The Right in the US thinks they can bully their way into a new world order where everything is for sale; the Left in Europe thinks they can talk their way into a moral high ground that is rapidly sinking into the sea. Neither side seems to realize that the ground beneath them is already gone.

The Greenland affair is not just about a large, icy island. It is a symptom of a global decay where the very concept of sovereignty is being liquidated. If Denmark—a stable, wealthy, Western democracy—can be threatened with economic ruin because it won't sell off a chunk of its territory to a real estate mogul, then the rules are officially dead. The EU’s failure to respond with anything other than shock and a scheduled meeting in Brussels is proof that the continent is content to be a theme park for American tourists. They’ll grumble about the lack of respect, they’ll write op-eds in the Guardian, and they’ll ultimately do exactly nothing, because doing something would require a level of courage that isn't found in a policy brief.

In the end, Riekeles is right about one thing: the danger lies in the demand itself. But the greater danger is the illusion that there is a hero in this story. There are no heroes here—only grifters, cowards, and the vast, cold indifference of Greenland, which likely wants nothing to do with any of them. The choice isn't between fighting back or ceasing to matter. Europe ceased to matter a long time ago. The only choice left is how they want to frame their surrender.