Do Greenlanders Really Need Saving?

Salome Liptak

Trump's continued pursuit of annexing Greenland has complicated international discussions of the territory's relationship with Denmark.

Protester holding Greenland’s flag. Peter Platou. Pexels.

Greenland, the autonomous territory of Denmark that is home to about 56,000 people, has been the subject of international debate during the second Trump administration. Trump first expressed interest in purchasing Greenland from Denmark in 2019, but now he has escalated to threats of tariffs against Denmark and its European allies, as well as military action against Greenland. 

Greenland has had its own parliament for domestic governance since the 1979 Home Rule Act, and it achieved self-rule in 2009, when legislation outlining Denmark’s legal pathway to voluntary independence was passed. Current polls show that Greenlanders hope to utilize this pathway to complete independence from Denmark, but Greenland’s vast, remote landscape and low population make economic independence presently impossible. This is also a major factor for the healthcare access issues that concern Greenlanders of all viewpoints, since the most remote community clinics are typically understaffed and underresourced.

Several European leaders have expressed their disapproval of Trump’s threats and emphasized their solidarity with Greenland against foreign intervention. Greenland’s unique status as a territory has required careful wording when defending the island’s right to self-determination, including U.K. Prime Minister Keir Starmer’s affirmation that “the future of Greenland is for the people of Greenland and the Kingdom of Denmark alone.” French President Emmanuel Macron made a similar statement, choosing to affirm Greenlanders’ sovereignty while speaking in Indigenous Greenlandic.

Greenland’s post-colonial relationship with Denmark, as is true for many Indigenous groups around the world, remains complicated. Greenland, whose population is majority Inuit, bears several national wounds from Danish colonial rule, which only ended in 1953. These include social experiments that separated Inuit children from their families and put them in Danish foster families to assimilate in 1951, as well as the forced sterilization of Inuit women throughout the 1960s. While Denmark has made strides toward reparations with public apologies and payouts for those involved, this painful history has left its mark, and systemic discrimination continues to be an issue in Greenland’s healthcare, education and social services, all of which are funded by Denmark.

Trump’s current push to annex Greenland has taken a different tone than that of his first term, utilizing the Kingdom of Denmark's present sovereignty over Greenland to justify U.S. intervention. On Truth Social, he announced his plan to send the U.S. hospital ship USNS Mercy to Greenland “to take care of the many people who are sick, and not being taken care of there.” The post’s unsubstantiated claim, along with its AI-generated image of the Mercy, caused widespread confusion. It appears this plan may have originated with Jorgen Boassen, a Greenlandic Trump supporter who has been vocal about issues of healthcare access in Greenland’s rural clinics. In response, Greenland’s Prime Minister, Jens-Frederik Nielsen, noted that Greenland currently has a “public healthcare system where treatment is free for citizens,” providing more access to services than the current U.S. healthcare system, despite being flawed.

This new attempt at a humanitarian claim to Greenland only further complicates international discourse on Greenland’s sovereignty. For the majority of Greenlanders who oppose American acquisition of Greenland, Trump's threats of intervention on their behalf have only increased the obstacles they face in establishing independence, as they are reliant on Denmark for defense; if Greenland were to leave the realm of Denmark, it would likely be unable to defend itself from unwanted intervention. Many Greenlanders have expressed humor at the ironic effect Trump’s actions have taken, such as one viral video from the Danish public broadcast DRP3, where a man tells the camera, “Yes, Mr. President! You are a true peacemaker. Because your threats have actually brought Denmark and Greenland closer together than ever!”

While Denmark’s control leaves much to be desired for many Greenlanders and complete sovereignty remains a political goal, it is clear that intervention from Trump is both unwarranted under international legal norms and unwanted by the majority of Greenlanders.

Salomé Liptak

Salomé is a student at Sarah Lawrence College studying literature and writing. She is passionate about storytelling (both true and fictional) and its power to reflect the world as it is, or imagine what could be.

Cuba’s Oil Shock Is Becoming a Human Crisis

Carol Khorramchahi

As fuel dries up and shortages deepen, Cuba’s state of crisis is becoming impossible to ignore.

Pedestrians on a Havana street. JF Martin. Unsplash.

Cuba is back in the news this week after a violent episode at sea. On Feb. 25, 2026, Cuban authorities said they killed four exiles and wounded another six when a Florida-registered speedboat entered Cuban waters and opened fire on a patrol. U.S. officials said no American government personnel were involved and promised an investigation. But the boat story, dramatic as it is, sits on top of a much larger crisis: daily life in Cuba has been unraveling under fuel shortages, blackouts and a growing lack of food and medicine.

To understand why, one can look toward the oil industry. For more than 25 years, Venezuela was Cuba’s main external fuel lifeline. Reuters reported that in 2025, Venezuela supplied about 26,500 barrels of oil per day, which is about one-third of Cuba’s daily needs. That relationship was especially significant because Cuba does not produce or refine enough fuel to cover demand on its own. When U.S. pressure cut into Venezuelan shipments, the result was not abstract geopolitics; it was fewer buses, less electricity and harder choices about which parts of daily life could keep running.

That is what makes the current moment more than just another sanctions story. On Feb. 12, U.N. human rights experts condemned Washington’s new fuel restrictions, warning that interfering with fuel imports may trigger “a severe humanitarian crisis” and damage essential services. Cuba’s government has already announced fuel-saving measures to protect sectors like water, education, agriculture and healthcare. The country can meet only about 40% of its fuel needs domestically, leaving it deeply exposed when imports are disrupted.

The healthcare system shows the human cost most clearly. Cuba was long known for its strong public health and for frequently sending doctors abroad, but that image of expertise is colliding with today’s shortages. In a recent BMJ report, physician Tania Maria Cruz Hernandez said there is now a shortage of doctors, nurses and technicians, along with half of the country’s basic medicines and essential medical supplies. Cuban health officials also say that fuel shortages are leaving hospitals without reliable ambulance service and complicating the transport of critical supplies.

That is the question hanging over the current crisis: what exactly is the United States’ goal? Washington says its measures are aimed at the Cuban government, not ordinary people, and the Treasury has now said companies may resell Venezuelan oil to Cuba’s private sector under narrow conditions. But the gap between official intent and daily reality is hard to ignore when flights are canceled for lack of aviation fuel, hospitals struggle to stay open and other countries are shipping emergency food aid.

The speedboat incident may dominate headlines for a day or two. But the more important story is slower and less cinematic: a country where shortages shape nearly every decision, and where the pressure of sanctions is felt not only by the state but by families trying to find transportation, medicine, electricity and a workable future.

GET INVOLVED:

Follow humanitarian updates from the U.N. Human Rights Office, track public-health reporting through the BMJ and support relief work through U.N. agencies responding to Cuba’s shortages, including the World Food Programme and UNICEF.

Carol Khorramchahi

Carol Khorramchahi is a student at Boston University, where she studies English and Psychology and minors in Journalism. She enjoys writing and reporting on stories that bring together culture, identity, and community, and has experience in both newsroom reporting and digital media. She is especially interested in thoughtful storytelling with a global lens.