A city on edge

Christina Boesen rested her head on her husband’s shoulder, held her two children tight and then said a prayer; for her family and for Greenland.

They were sitting in a pew near the back of the Hans Egede Lutheran Church in downtown Nuuk. The priests had opened the doors Wednesday evening for a time of common prayer to “strengthen our community” and around two dozen people sat in silent contemplation.

“I see the news all day about Trump, so I don’t like it. That’s why I came to pray and support our country,” Ms. Boesen, 29, said after the service.

Open this photo in gallery:

Just about everyone in this small coastal city is on edge; fearful of Donald Trump’s next pronouncement about buying Greenland or taking it by force.

There’s also growing tension over the buildup of troops from Denmark, France, Germany and six other NATO countries as part of Operation Arctic Endurance. Canada has yet to join the mission, which has been organized by Denmark to bolster security in the Far North and counter Mr. Trump’s ambitions.

A year ago, when the U.S. President began spouting off about annexing Greenland, an autonomous part of Denmark, people here laughed it off as outlandish. Who would think someone could buy a piece of a country?

But ever since Mr. Trump unleashed U.S. forces in Venezuela and started threatening to invade Greenland, the mood here has darkened.

“You can tell that there are many more people who are worried,” said Nuuk Mayor Avaaraq Olsen.

Several residents have told her that they’re making plans to move to Iceland, Norway or Denmark. “Some elderly people are already talking about selling everything and going to Denmark as soon as possible,” she said.

She’s been the city’s mayor for nearly four years and never expected to deal with a potential invasion, from a NATO ally. “It’s the craziest time.”

She’s hoping to hold a city-wide social event, just to get everyone’s mind off Mr. Trump. And while she’s been urging residents to stay calm, her own resolve has been tested.

One evening last week she took a walk near the harbour and spotted a fishing boat moving slowly with its lights off. “I started to think if there would be an invasion, they would come in the night without lights,” she recalled. She was suddenly gripped with panic.

“It’s really easy to get in those catastrophic thoughts, because you see images like that all the time,” she said.

Open this photo in gallery:

On Wednesday, Deputy Prime Minister Mute Egede made an impassioned plea to Greenlanders to look out for each other. “This is a stressful time and we all feel it,” he said.

Aqqalu Jerimiassen, a Greenland MP, said he doesn’t feel safe any more.

A year ago he joked about Mr. Trump during an interview in his parliamentary office and he didn’t take the President seriously. When we met again last Monday, Mr. Jerimiassen said he now appreciated how Ukrainians felt before Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022.

“I can understand where they were worried and crying and fearful about how their future was going to be decided. Right now, we’re almost at that situation,” he said.

This is a close-knit community where people greet each other on the street and shy away from overt displays of emotion. The harsh climate and rugged terrain has engendered a spirit of self reliance among residents, almost all of whom are Inuit.

For the longest time, Nuuk was largely shielded from the outside world, nestled behind a wall of mountains and fjords. There are no roads connecting the capital to other towns and villages, and the vastness of the landscape can be daunting.

Open this photo in gallery:

Ms. Olsen represents Nuuk and the surrounding municipality, an area the size of France with just 25,000 inhabitants. Travelling to some villages involves flying to Iceland and then catching another plane back to Greenland’s east coast. Until recently the only way most foreign visitors could get to Nuuk was via Copenhagen or Iceland.

The city has opened up over the years. There’s now a vibrant downtown, rows of modern apartments and a new airport that offers seasonal flights to New York. But most people would prefer to be left alone, which is why Mr. Trump’s threats and the attention they’ve drawn, hurts so much.

“I get questions from my kids, ‘Is there going to be war? Are there going to be soldiers?’ ” said Klaus Poulsen, who runs a local business that sells printers and audiovisual equipment. “The only real answer to kids will always be; ‘Of course not, don’t be scared.’ But they are scared.”

He’s careful too. He’s holding off on big purchases at home and backing away from major investments in his business. “And that worries me, because if I do it, maybe a lot of people do it too, and that’s usually how a recession starts,” he said.

Claus Nissen has already felt the pullback. Sales at his two clothing stores have dropped in recent weeks and some of his clients have started moving their money out of Greenland. He’d like to open another store, but it’s too risky right now.

One customer came in this week with a gift card, saying she wanted to use it before the store closed because of the looming invasion. “That’s the level of fear,” he said.

Open this photo in gallery:

On Wednesday, people in Nuuk held their collective breath as news trickled out from the meeting in Washington involving the foreign ministers from Denmark and Greenland, U.S. Vice-President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. The city breathed a sigh of relief when reports emerged that while there hadn’t been a breakthrough, both sides agreed to keep talking.

Greenland’s Foreign Minister Vivian Motzfeldt broke down in tears during a television interview after the meeting. “The last few days have been tough,” she told Greenland’s KNR media. She tried to describe to Mr. Vance and Mr. Rubio “the emotions we experience in this country” and “the increasing pressure that we have experienced.”

Few believe Mr. Trump will back down, or that he’ll drop his obsession with Greenland.

Open this photo in gallery:

Everyone agrees that he doesn’t need to launch an invasion. Under a long-standing defence agreement with Denmark, Mr. Trump could send as many troops to Greenland as he liked, so long as he notified his NATO ally. During the Cold War, the U.S. stationed 10,000 soldiers at 17 bases. Today, there are less than 200 at one facility.

His fixation with owning Greenland’s minerals has also perplexed local officials.

The government has been eager to attract foreign investment to develop the resources. But mining here is expensive and most deposits have been deemed uneconomical. Despite all the talk of its mineral riches, there’s only one small gold mine operating in Greenland.

There have been suggestions that Mr. Trump might try to bribe Greenlanders. Molly Schwartz, an analyst at Rabobank, mused wryly in a recent report that given Greenland’s population of roughly 50,000, for the “low price” of US$50-billion, he could offer each Greenlander US$1-million. “That might prove more attractive,” she wrote.

Open this photo in gallery:

Morten Heilmann, 33, is taking matters into his own hands. He lives with his girlfriend and her teenaged son, and he’s started stocking up on supplies to last a few days, just in case there’s an invasion.

He’s already bought two tanks of propane, a 50-litre container of water, lots of extra batteries and a few head lamps. He’s planning to buy some large bags of rice, pasta and canned goods, and he’s urging his friends and family to do the same.

“I’m worried,” he said of Mr. Trump’s threats. “I’d rather be prepared than getting caught with my pants down.”

When asked to rate the chances of an invasion, Mr. Heilmann didn’t hesitate; “50-50. Because you know how Trump is, he’s very persistent.”