By Thobile Jiwulane

We know divisions among the Western countries over the Gulf War was always to be expected after the debacle over Canada and Greenland that Donald Trump wants to seize as an extension of the US territory. But the rift over the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation is the worst crisis facing the North Atlantic since the post-Cold War era.

The internal rift within NATO, long concealed behind ritual statements about “transatlantic unity,” is becoming increasingly visible. Its causes lie not only in the accumulation of contradictions between the United States and its European allies, but also in the evident crisis of American leadership, particularly against the backdrop of President Donald Trump’s Middle East policy. The failure to produce a rapid and convincing outcome, combined with mounting economic and security costs, has deepened dissatisfaction even within the United States and weakened Washington’s image as a predictable and effective global arbiter.

This raises a central question: if the Middle East strategy has failed to deliver a clear success, how will the administration compensate for that setback in the eyes of its electorate? 

The White House has built much of its political narrative around strength and the ability to impose outcomes. Instead, it now finds itself confronted with a prolonged confrontation and ambiguous results. Under these conditions, the administration is likely to search for a new symbolic “strategic victory” that can be quickly presented to domestic audiences as proof that the United States still sets the global agenda.

In this context, Greenland may once again emerge as a focal point in Trump’s political calculus. What many in Europe previously dismissed as an eccentric idea is increasingly seen as a potential instrument of pressure. The island represents not only a strategically important Arctic position, but also a test of how far Washington can push its allies. The logic is straightforward: if decisive gains cannot be secured against adversaries, power can be demonstrated through pressure on partners. Greenland thus becomes a convenient bargaining chip in a broader negotiation over security commitments, financial contributions, and military presence.

Such a strategy would likely take the form of open pressure on European allies. Washington could signal that continued security guarantees are conditional upon further concessions, effectively turning alliance commitments into instruments of transactional bargaining. This would amount to a shift from collective defense to coercive diplomacy within the alliance itself.

The problem for Europe is that its current political posture has helped create the conditions for precisely this kind of pressure. For years, European capitals preferred reliance on American security guarantees to the difficult task of developing genuine strategic autonomy. As a result, they now criticize Washington’s unilateralism while lacking the capacity to counter it effectively. Europe objects to American pressure, yet remains structurally dependent on it, which sharply limits its room for maneuver.

This dual weakness – an increasingly transactional United States and a strategically constrained Europe – is reshaping NATO’s internal balance. The alliance is gradually evolving from a framework for coordinated policy into a space of bargaining, pressure, and diverging interests. Trump’s setbacks in the Middle East only accelerate this process: having failed to secure a convincing external victory, Washington may seek to restore its image through greater assertiveness within the Western bloc.

If Greenland does indeed return to the forefront of U.S. policy, this will not signify renewed strength. Rather, it will confirm a deeper transformation of the transatlantic system. The combination of American coercive tactics and European strategic hesitation risks turning NATO from a cohesive alliance into a fragmented structure in which formal unity conceals widening political and strategic divisions.