There is a particular brand of exhaustion that comes from watching the world’s most self-important vultures circle a dying glacier. Currently, the vultures in question are the French presidency and the American executive branch, both of whom have looked at the vast, desolate expanse of Greenland and decided it is the perfect stage for their respective brands of theatrical idiocy. France, a nation currently engaged in a perpetual internal struggle to decide which century it belongs to, has suddenly developed a burning desire for a NATO exercise in the Arctic. They are "ready to contribute," according to the Elysée, which is diplomatic shorthand for "we would like to be included in the photo op before the permafrost turns into a swamp."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, we have the quintessential American response to any piece of land not currently under its thumb: the urge to buy it, seize it, or at the very least, disrupt its zoning laws. When asked how far he was willing to go to acquire the world’s largest island, Donald Trump offered the kind of vaguely menacing, mostly hollow "you’ll find out" that has become the soundtrack to the decline of Western discourse. It’s the language of a reality TV producer teasing a season finale that will inevitably disappoint everyone involved.

The sheer, unadulterated hubris required to treat Greenland as a prize in a game of geopolitical "Monopoly" is breathtaking. For France, the motivation is the usual cocktail of "strategic autonomy" and a desperate need to prove that the European Union can still flex its muscles without asking for permission from Washington. Macron’s government wants to "contribute" to a NATO exercise because, in the hollowed-out logic of modern diplomacy, moving hardware around a frozen wasteland constitutes a coherent foreign policy. It is a performance of relevance for a domestic audience that is mostly preoccupied with the rising cost of baguettes and the inevitable collapse of the retirement age.

On the American side, the obsession with Greenland is less about "strategy" and more about the primal, developer-driven instinct to possess. The "you’ll find out" response isn’t a policy; it’s a symptom. It reflects a worldview where sovereignty is a liquid asset and international law is something that happens to other, smaller people. Trump sees a giant rock full of minerals and thinks of a portfolio; he sees a strategic location and thinks of a fortress. The fact that Greenland is an autonomous territory of Denmark—a supposed ally—is a mere technicality to be smoothed over by the sheer force of transactional ego.

Let us look at the stage for this farce. Greenland is melting. The very ground these leaders want to "secure" or "seize" is literally liquefying. Yet, instead of addressing the planetary physics that will eventually put both Paris and Mar-a-Lago underwater, our glorious leaders are arguing over who gets to hold the leash of the Arctic. NATO, an organization that thrives on the specter of "threats" to justify its own bloated existence, is the perfect enabler. An "exercise" in Greenland will accomplish exactly two things: it will burn an ungodly amount of jet fuel, further accelerating the melt, and it will provide enough B-roll footage to satisfy the hawks on both sides of the aisle.

France’s eagerness to participate is particularly pathetic. It is the "pick me" energy of a former empire trying to stay relevant in a world that has largely moved on from its particular brand of haughtiness. By pushing for a NATO presence, France hopes to tether the U.S. to European interests while simultaneously pretending they are leading the charge. It’s a delicate dance of hypocrisy performed on thin ice. They want the protection of the alliance but hate the dominance of the leader, so they propose a cold-weather camping trip to show they’re "ready to contribute."

The tragedy, of course, is that the actual inhabitants of Greenland—the people who actually have to live with the consequences of this posturing—are treated as little more than background noise. They are the NPCs in a grand strategy game played by men who couldn't find Nuuk on a map if their lives depended on it. Whether it’s France’s "contribution" or Trump’s "seizure," the result is the same: the commodification of a landscape and the total disregard for the people who call it home.

In the end, we are left with a choice between two equally repellent visions of the future. One is a world of performative bureaucracy, where "exercises" and "contributions" are used to mask a total lack of vision. The other is a world of raw, transactional imperialism, where "you’ll find out" is the only answer to questions of global stability. Both sides are equally moronic, equally greedy, and equally convinced of their own righteousness. As the ice continues to vanish, these two powers will continue to fight over the puddles, convinced that they are winning a game that the rest of us lost a long time ago.