By Zeenath Ayub
In the 21st century, a global landscape seemingly long removed from the era of imperialist expansion has been jolted by a sudden revival of old-world territorial ambitions. This shift was brought into sharp focus by the explicit interest of US President Donald Trump in the Arctic island of Greenland – a move that challenged modern diplomatic norms and forced a reconsideration of sovereignty and geopolitical strategy in a supposedly post-colonial age.
This tension was highlighted early last week when the US president referred to his reimagining of the Monroe Doctrine – a long-standing principle of US foreign policy articulated by President James Monroe, which held that any external intervention in the political affairs of the Americas would be regarded as a hostile act against the United States.
Donald Trump’s reinterpretation, which he has termed the “Donroe Doctrine,” departs sharply from its original defensive logic. Under this reimagined framework, Trump presents a vision of the United States as a superpower entitled to assert its military dominance across the Western Hemisphere, which he claims is essential to US national security.
Viewed in its entirety, his stance reflects an unusually explicit and anachronistic form of imperial ambition – one that appears increasingly absurd within a post-colonial, post-imperial international order that is ostensibly governed by norms of sovereignty, self-determination, and legal restraint.
For much of recorded history – particularly during the colonial era and the early 20th century, and even long before that, the global order was shaped primarily by power. Although the concept of sovereignty existed, it was largely known, defined, and exercised by superpowers alone. Smaller nations and populations rarely experienced sovereignty in any real, practical, or even ideological sense.
The absence of sovereignty among non-superpowers was not viewed as a moral crisis; rather, it was accepted as the natural state of world politics. In essence, sovereignty was understood less as self-rule and more as the capacity to dominate and control territory.
The first significant rupture in this power-driven world order emerged at the end of the Second World War. With the formation of the United Nations, power increasingly required justification, not merely possession. The principle of national self-determination entered global political discourse, and the era of decolonization followed. People and territories that had long been voiceless within the international system began to assert their agency, transforming sovereignty from an exclusive privilege of empires into an articulated right of nations.
During the Cold War, the meaning of “power” underwent a significant transformation. Direct territorial conquest declined, and power came to be defined less by physical expansion and more by the capacity to exert influence. Accordingly, the norms governing what constituted a “superpower” shifted; the seizure or conquest of land increasingly came to be viewed as illegitimate.
In the post–Second World War international system, sovereignty began to be understood through a more explicitly moral lens. A rules-based international order gradually emerged, shaped by the growth of international law and evolving normative frameworks that sought to regulate state behavior.
Within this context – and particularly as norms continued to evolve in the 21st century, the concept of sovereignty itself became deeply moralized. The shift can be attributed to several interrelated developments: the legacy of decolonization and the rise of national self-determination, the consolidation of international legal norms, and the growing influence of indigenous and minority movements that challenged traditional, state-centric notions of authority and legitimacy.
It is within this framework of moralized sovereignty – where the integrity of a state is assessed not only by its military or territorial strength but also by its adherence to law, norms, and human rights principles – that the very idea of conquering or acquiring another country, whether through purchase or “one way or another,” appears not merely illegitimate but almost absurd.
History demonstrates that previous US presidents have, at various points, also sought to acquire Greenland. However, unlike the blunt rhetoric seen today, these attempts were framed through far more sophisticated justifications, often carefully articulated to align with the moral language of international law and prevailing global norms. For example, President Harry Truman’s informal 1946 offer to purchase Greenland was presented primarily in terms of strategic defense considerations rather than overt territorial acquisition.
This pattern is not unique to the United States. Other world leaders have similarly employed subtle diplomatic rationales grounded in security, stability, or mutual benefit, to advance expansionist or influence-driven objectives in ways that remain compatible with the contemporary international order.
Trump, by contrast, has demonstrated a striking bluntness in expressing his intentions toward acquiring Greenland. He has bypassed the subtle diplomatic justifications employed by previous presidents, openly stating that the United States would obtain Greenland “one way or another” and announcing a so-called “framework” for a future deal earlier this week. While no further details of this framework have been disclosed, its very articulation signals the directness and audacity of his intent.
The existence of such openly imperial rhetoric in the 21st century raises a fundamental question: how does an imperialist mindset persist in an era ostensibly governed by moralized sovereignty? Trump’s freedom, as the leader of the world’s foremost superpower, to articulate these views publicly exposes a stark reality about the contemporary international order. The morality attached to sovereignty appears conditional, sustained only when power chooses to respect it. This challenges the assumption that international law, decolonization, and normative movements have fundamentally transformed global politics, suggesting instead that power politics has not disappeared, but merely adapted its language – and, at times, abandoned it altogether.
It is for this reason that President Trump may be better understood as uniquely honest rather than uniquely malevolent. His brand of bluntness has exposed the existing fractures within the so-called moralized, human rights–based conception of sovereignty, revealing how it functions in practice rather than merely in theory. Trump’s rhetoric highlights the conditional nature of sovereignty – one that often endures only when powerful states choose to respect it.
What may appear, at first glance, as an attempt by Donald Trump to revive an imperial world order is more accurately understood as the shedding of a long-standing diplomatic facade. His confidence in articulating such intentions suggests that power politics never truly disappeared; instead, it adapted its vocabulary. Expansionist impulses have been reframed over time through the language of diplomatic partnerships, alliance obligations, or security cooperation. In this sense, the international order grounded in international law and human rights has not eradicated imperialism but has instead softened and legitimized it through increasingly refined – and now occasionally abandoned – justifications.
Donald Trump’s approach toward Greenland marked by an offensive rather than defensive posture underscores how the consent of Greenlanders is frequently bypassed in decisions that shape their own future. This reality compels a deeper examination of the gap between the moral rhetoric of sovereignty and its practical application within the international system.
Under international law, the right to self-determination is recognized as a fundamental moral and legal claim, vested collectively in the people of a nation. Yet the willingness of the world’s foremost superpower to contemplate the acquisition of Greenland exposes the conditional nature of this principle. Self-determination, in practice, remains subject to the approval and interests of powerful states, rendering it closer to a myth than a lived reality for many. This case demonstrates that even in the 21st century, despite the development of international law, the rise of indigenous rights movements, and the moralization of sovereignty – the rights of indigenous populations to their land can still be treated as negotiable assets within the strategic calculations of superpowers.
Zeenath Ayub is a student researcher with a BA in Social Sciences (Politics and International Studies Stream) from the Open University of Sri Lanka. She can be reached at zeenathayub20@gmail.com
Factum is an Asia-Pacific-focused think tank on International Relations, Tech Cooperation, and Strategic Communications accessible via www.factum.lk.
The views expressed here are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the organization’s.
