There is a specific, peculiarly European form of exhaustion that settles in when one watches the Old World attempt to explain the concept of 'nationhood' to the New World. It is the exhaustion of a tenured history professor trying to explain to a private equity raider why the university library cannot simply be converted into a crypto-mining farm because 'the acoustics are good.' We witnessed this tableau of despair yet again this week in Davos, that annual pilgrimage where the global elite gather to solve the problems they caused, usually by creating new, more expensive problems.

At the center of this farce is Mette Frederiksen, the Prime Minister of Denmark, a woman who currently possesses perhaps the most unenviable job description in geopolitics: explaining to the President of the United States that Greenland is a place where people live, not a vacant lot waiting for a Trump Tower and a golf course. Following the easing of tariff threats—threats that were effectively a geopolitical mob shakedown involving wind turbines and insulin exports—Frederiksen has called for “constructive” talks. In the diplomatic lexicon, “constructive” is usually a code word for “please stop threatening to bankrupt us while we try to find a polite way to say no.”

The absurdity of the situation is matched only by the terrifying banality with which it is being treated. President Trump, acting with the nuance of a bulldozer in a botanical garden, has graciously decided to drop the tariff threats against countries that opposed his acquisition plans. This pivot was greeted by European leaders with a “wary welcome,” which is the diplomatic equivalent of a flinch. It is the reaction of a battered spouse when the abuser puts down the frying pan and suggests ordering pizza instead. We are supposed to be grateful that the trade war has been averted, ignoring the fact that the casus belli was the refusal to sell a semi-autonomous territory one-quarter the size of the United States as if it were a used Honda Civic.

Frederiksen’s statement in Davos is a masterclass in the cognitive dissonance required to survive modern international relations. “We can negotiate all political aspects – security, investment, the economy – but we cannot negotiate our sovereignty,” she said. One must pause to savor the exquisite, tragic irony of that sentence. It is a philosophical puzzle that would make Wittgenstein weep into his lager. If you negotiate security, investment, and the economy, what, exactly, is left of sovereignty? Is sovereignty merely the right to fly a specific colored cloth on a pole while a foreign power pays for the roads, owns the mines, and stations the troops?

Frederiksen is attempting to draw a line in the snow, asserting that the territorial integrity of the Kingdom of Denmark is inviolable. Yet, by conceding that “investment” and “security” are on the table, she is implicitly acknowledging the reality of the American century, or perhaps the post-American century, where everything is transactional. The distinction she draws is semantic, a desperate attempt to maintain national dignity while facing the sheer gravitational pull of American capital and military projection. She is trying to keep the deed to the house while renting out the living room, the kitchen, and the garage to a tenant who has a history of knocking down walls.

The cynicism of the American approach is, admittedly, breathtaking in its purity. To the current US administration, Greenland is not a culture, a history, or a people; it is a strategic asset on a balance sheet, undervalued and underutilized. It is a distress sale waiting to happen. The fact that the Danes sold the Virgin Islands to the United States in 1917 for $25 million is a historical ghost that haunts these proceedings. It proves, uncomfortably, that Denmark has a price. The current negotiations are merely haggling over the inflation-adjusted valuation and the terms of the lease.

Meanwhile, the rest of Europe watches from the sidelines at Davos, sipping champagne and pretending that this is a normal diplomatic dispute. It is not. It is a fundamental clash between two incompatible worldviews: the Westphalian concept of sovereign states versus the Trumpian concept of the world as a giant real estate portfolio. The Europeans are wary because they know that if Greenland can be bought—or “leased” in perpetuity, which is the likely compromise to save face—then nothing is sacred. If geography is just a commodity, then what is France? What is Italy? Are they countries, or are they just legacy brands ripe for a takeover bid?

So, we are left with “constructive talks.” We will watch as diplomats in expensive suits utilize euphemisms to disguise the commodification of the Arctic. They will discuss “joint security initiatives” and “economic development packages,” creating a facade of partnership to cover the reality of acquisition. Frederiksen will fight valiantly to keep the Danish flag flying over Nuuk, and she may succeed. But make no mistake: when you are negotiating the economy and the security of your territory with a superpower that views you as a vendor, you have already sold the shop. You are just negotiating the hours you are allowed to work behind the counter.