It doesn’t end with Greenland

Late last night and into the early morning hours, while most of the country slept, the President of the United States was rampage posting on social media. Alone in the dark, hunched over his phone, he posted one after another. There were so many conspiracy-soaked tirades aimed at enemies real and imagined that I lost count as he kept spiraling deeper into the night.

By morning, Donald Trump had spent the night firing off attacks on Truth Social about made-up election interference, repeating conspiracy theories he’s pushed for years, and resharing an AI-generated image of a map draped with the American flag across the United States, Canada, and Greenland. Instead of preparing for meetings with allies or dealing with the real crises facing the country and the world, this is what the president was doing in the middle of the night.

As the sun came up, the pattern was familiar. His visible mental decline and instability continue to drive impulsive behavior, feeding his ego and protecting himself, while the country teeters on the verge of collapse.

After a night spent unraveling online, Trump reemerged in front of cameras for what was supposed to be a celebration of his first year back in office. It was billed as a moment to show leadership and competence. Instead, he used it to ramble, spread propaganda, and reinforce how unfit he is to lead. He wandered from topic to topic, boasting about himself, drifting into a story about his mother watching him play Little League, and telling him he was such a great player that he could be a professional baseball player. Then launching into a strange aside about an “insane asylum” near where he grew up in Queens, before issuing alarming threats about Greenland.

He even stopped to grumble about people he doesn’t like, calling Jack Smith a “sick son of a b*tch.” Then, without missing a beat, he joked about how the press in the room might fall through the floor, since it used to be a swimming pool. It was unsettling to watch. In the span of minutes, he swung from sharp and combative to scattered and strange, veering into tangents that went nowhere. Most days, we see him withdrawn, almost despondent, but this time, he was animated, switching between menace and mania. And somehow, that made it even worse.

At one point, he was asked directly, “How far are you willing to go to get Greenland?” His answer was short and chilling: “You’ll find out,” he said, with a smirk, and no explanation. Just a threat delivered casually, as if he were teasing the next episode of a reality show.

Then came the moment when I felt my stomach drop. He veered into an enthusiastic tangent about Victory at Sea, the 1950s documentary series about naval warfare during World War II. “Do you ever see Victory at Sea? What a great thing that is to watch,” he said. He didn’t talk about the historical context, or the loss, devastation, or millions of lives destroyed. He talked about the footage, the pacing, the power. About how it made him feel. It didn’t sound like someone reflecting on war as tragedy. It sounded like someone replaying favorite scenes from a movie that made him feel alive.

When he was talking, I started to feel physically ill. Because history matters, and leaders who drag their countries into disaster rarely begin with tanks crossing borders. They begin with stories. With images. With nostalgia for power and national greatness. Adolf Hitler built his early political identity around World War I myths and grievance over Germany’s defeat long before he launched territorial expansion. Benito Mussolini framed war as destiny and proof of national strength years before invading Ethiopia. Vladimir Putin has spent decades elevating World War II memory, using it to define national identity and justify modern military aggression, including Crimea and Ukraine. In each case, war was turned into a story about greatness first. When leaders stop talking about war as horror and start treating it as spectacle or proof of strength, history shows us where that path leads.

And this is the question we all need to face. What if he actually wants a war? What if the chaos he keeps inviting, military escalation, global instability, fear at home, isn’t a mistake? What if it’s the thrill he’s chasing? A way to feel powerful. A way to feel important. The same hunger for domination that has driven so many dangerous men before him.

That’s why Greenland matters. Not because of minerals or shipping lanes or Arctic strategy, but because someone told him it was there for the taking. Because he thinks wanting it makes him powerful. Because conquest, in his mind, is how legacies are built. He doesn’t care that taking what isn’t yours is wrong. He doesn’t care that Greenland already allows U.S. military presence and strategic expansion. None of that matters to him. He just wants it because it makes him feel strong. And when a man with unchecked power decides he wants something, not for policy, but for pride, people die. Countries fall. That’s what history shows us every single time.

And we know that this kind of recklessness does not stay contained. The moment a U.S. president starts talking about taking allied territory as if it belongs to him, the shockwaves move fast and far. NATO is built on trust, not just treaties. On the belief that borders matter, that sovereignty matters, and that the strongest country in the alliance will not turn on the others. When Trump talks about Greenland the way he does, he is not just threatening Denmark or Greenland. He is threatening the foundation of the alliance itself.

That’s why European leaders are alarmed, even when they try to sound diplomatic in public. They understand what this kind of language means. If the United States is willing to coerce, threaten, or take land from an ally, then no country inside NATO can feel fully secure. The entire purpose of collective defense collapses if the biggest member starts acting like an empire instead of a partner. His dictatorial posturing is already changing military planning, intelligence sharing, and long-term defense strategy.

In Canada, the military has already simulated a U.S. invasion scenario. According to The Globe and Mail, the Canadian Armed Forces are preparing for the possibility that Trump will move beyond Greenland and try to assert control over Canadian territory. The plan relies on insurgency warfare, ambushes, sabotage, hit-and-run attacks, because officials admit Canada lacks the conventional military strength to resist. They estimate they’d have three months to prepare. That’s how seriously they’re taking the threat from the United States.

This is the same Canada that stood by us in World War II. The same Canada that fought beside us in Afghanistan after 9/11. That took in stranded Americans when our skies were shut down, offering food, medicine, shelter, and kindness when we needed it most. And now, 25 years later, they’re being forced to prepare for an invasion, from us.

To readers in Canada: I don’t have the words to express how heartbreaking this is. You showed up for us over and over again, not because you had to, but because it was the right thing to do. And now, instead of honoring that friendship, our government is treating you like a threat. It’s shameful. And many of us here see it. We are with you.

Meanwhile, Trump is dismantling diplomacy itself. Earlier today, he intentionally leaked private messages from French President Emmanuel Macron, texts that showed Macron trying to maintain peace, trying to calm Trump down about Greenland, and even offering to host a G7 dinner in Paris. Macron sounded measured, restrained, even conciliatory. Trump shared it anyway. He humiliated a world leader for trying to de-escalate. He violated the unspoken rules of diplomacy and made a mockery of one of the most important relationships America has left.

It may sound like a petty breach, but it’s not. Diplomacy has saved us from war more times than we’ll ever know. Quiet conversations, honest misunderstandings, and mutual respect are what prevent global catastrophes. And now, Trump has made clear that no private message is safe, and that no relationship is sacred.

Macron, in response, showed up at the World Economic Forum in Davos and sent both a visual and spoken message directly to Trump and the world. Wearing aviator sunglasses and standing tall in front of a packed room. He didn’t name Trump directly, but he didn’t need to. “It’s not a time for new imperialism or new colonialism,” he said. He warned that Europe “should not hesitate to deploy” tools to protect itself. He told the world what kind of leadership he believes in. And then he landed the blow: “We prefer respect to bullies. And we prefer rule of law to brutality.”

With every reckless move, Trump is handing his fellow strongmen exactly what they want. Russia and China are watching all of this with glee. He’s doing for them what they’ve tried and failed to do themselves: tearing NATO apart. Every threat he makes toward Greenland weakens the alliance that has helped prevent another global war for over 75 years.

And now, the Pentagon is following his lead. U.S. participation in key NATO operations is already being slashed. According to The Washington Post, about 200 military personnel are being pulled from NATO’s Centers of Excellence, facilities built to strengthen allied training, coordination, and trust. That’s not a bureaucratic reshuffle. It’s a calculated shift. You don’t pull out of joint defense planning unless you’re planning to go it alone. Or worse, unless you’re preparing to treat your allies like targets.

And maybe that’s exactly what this is. Maybe Trump has already made up his mind. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t care how it looks, why he keeps escalating instead of pulling back. Because he doesn’t just want Greenland. He wants Canada and Mexico, too. He wants to conquer the entire Western Hemisphere, which the Department of Defense has long considered part of its strategic sphere of influence. The Monroe Doctrine established that precedent generations ago. But Trump has rebranded it. He’s started calling it the “Donroe Doctrine.” And that tells us everything. This isn’t a phase or a distraction. This seems to be the plan all along.

I know some people have started saying it feels like we’re too far gone. I’ve seen those comments too. I want to be very direct: we’re not. There is no such thing as too far gone. Can you imagine what would have happened if people in Europe during World War II had just given up? If they had accepted what was happening and let Hitler keep going, inflicting endless suffering? They never stopped fighting back. Even when it felt hopeless. Even when it was too late for some. They still fought. And so will we.

Yes, we’ve burned bridges. Yes, it’s going to take time. It might take years, and more than one election cycle, to even begin rebuilding the trust we’ve lost. Because how can our allies believe us when they saw how dangerous Trump was, and then watched us bring him back? I don’t blame them for hesitating. I wouldn’t trust a country that could do something like that either. But that doesn’t mean we stop trying. That doesn’t mean we give up. Redemption is not handed out when it’s convenient. You have to earn it. And that starts with not turning away. Not making excuses. Not pretending this is normal. The only way forward is through.

We are never beyond redemption. We are never without hope. And I will always have hope for America. I hope you will, too.

I’ll see you tomorrow,
Heather

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