On September 22, 2026, Greenland, Denmark, and the United States signed a new agreement (hereinafter “the 2026 Agreement”)[1] amending and supplementing the defense agreement concluded between Denmark and the United States in 1951 (hereinafter “the 1951 Agreement”).[2] The agreement was the outcome of trilateral negotiations that had been conducted behind the scenes since early 2026 as an alternative channel, at a time when Denmark and Greenland were under pressure to respond to US President Donald Trump’s repeated statements, beginning in December 2024, about the ownership and control of Greenland.[3] Trump stated that it would be “a long and wonderful partnership,” Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen called it “a milestone,” and Greenland’s Prime Minister Jens-Frederik Nielsen described it as “a very big day.”[4]

In a sense, the 2026 Agreement may well represent a certain point of arrival, insofar as it averted a further escalation of “outbursts” by a great power. Above all, for the Kingdom of Denmark, the agreement was also a product of pragmatism. Regarding the agreement, Frederiksen remarked that, rather than expending effort on what must not be done, what mattered was to build an environment in which the Kingdom could defend itself as security threats draw closer to Greenland and the Arctic,[5] suggesting that her government had prioritized a realistic approach in its relations with the United States.

What, then, does the 2026 Agreement actually provide? The bilateral US-Danish framework based on the 1951 Agreement, while retaining its basic structure, has positioned Greenland as an actor involved in decision-making through the 2003 Itilleq Declaration and the 2004 Igaliku Agreement (hereinafter “the 2004 Agreement”).[6] How have these institutional developments connected with the 2026 Agreement?

In my previous commentary, dated September 18, 2026 (coincidentally the same day on which Trump first posted about the agreement on Truth Social), I sought to understand US intentions in the midst of the trilateral negotiations by drawing on the concept of an “Okinawa model” proposed by the geopolitical analyst Khalid, as well as on the essay by the present author and Gad of the Danish Institute for International Studies that inspired it.[7] The Okinawa model refers to a mode of governance in which the United States, while formally preserving an ally’s sovereignty, embeds within its territory multiple layers of bases, rights guaranteeing the use of and access to those bases, and security institutions that support their establishment and operation, thereby reorganizing that space “wholesale” into a de facto military and strategic space. The concept also links this spatial reorganization to a denial strategy aimed at excluding actual or potential military and strategic involvement by China, Russia, and others.

Building on the argument of that commentary, this article examines, with reference to the actual content of the 2026 Agreement, the extent to which the Okinawa model as an analytical lens can capture its features. The focus here is on the two operations that constitute the Okinawa model: “opening” a particular territory wholesale to the United States on the one hand, and “closing” it to competing third countries through a denial strategy on the other. In what follows, I read the 2026 Agreement from the perspective of this “opening and closing,” and further examine who governs the boundary between the two, and through what procedures.

Opening

Let us begin with the mechanisms that “open” Greenland to the United States. The starting point is the 1951 Agreement. Article V(3) grants US public vessels and aircraft, as well as US armed forces and vehicles, the right of free access to the defense areas by land, sea, and air, and the right to move between them. With regard to aircraft, the agreement further provides that, except as limited by agreement with Denmark, they may overfly and land in any part of Greenland, including its territorial waters. Even at this stage, then, US military access was not confined to fixed defense areas; it already incorporated mechanisms that extended beyond them through movement between areas and overflight.

While carrying over this access dating back to 1951, the 2026 Agreement redefines its scope and modalities and adds new forms of use. Article VI explicitly covers “the rest of the territory of Greenland,” including its territorial waters, and provides not only for access to the defense areas, movement between them by land, sea, and air, and overflight and landing by aircraft, but also for undersea access to and movement within the territorial waters by US public vessels. The cross-territorial access rights already contained in the 1951 Agreement have thus evolved into a more diverse framework of military use, now encompassing the use of territorial waters, including undersea, and the establishment of facilities outside the defense areas.

However, the 1951 and 2026 Agreements differ markedly in how they situate the US military presence in relation to Greenlandic society. Article VI of the 1951 Agreement provided that, at the discretion of the Danish authorities, contact between US personnel and the local population was to be avoided as far as possible. This was a principle of “non-intimacy,” under which the United States was granted broad military access while its activities were kept external to Greenlandic society to the greatest extent possible. Although this provision was abolished in 1986, US bases and related facilities in Greenland had already been gradually scaled back throughout the Cold War, and even after the Cold War ended, this trend did not reverse into a re-entry to bases or the addition and expansion of facilities. In that sense, there was little reason to expect that the abolition of the provision would immediately and substantially transform the relationship between the US military presence and Greenlandic society.

On the other hand, the abolition in 1986 formed part of a process through which the institutions governing this relationship would subsequently change. After the end of the Cold War, as the United States reorganized its overseas bases and forward posture in response to a changing threat environment, Greenland, alongside the advancement of its self-government, became increasingly involved in matters of national security.[8] Against the backdrop of these two intersecting changes, the 2004 Agreement, concluded after extensive negotiations, resituated the US bases within their relationship with Greenlandic society. Article 3(2)(a) institutionalized local-level cooperation, for example by establishing a mechanism for consultation between representatives of the Home Rule Government of Greenland and the commander of what was then Thule Air Base. Article 3(1)(c) further provided that, before implementing any significant changes to US military operations or facilities in Greenland, the United States would consult with and inform the Government of the Kingdom of Denmark, including the Home Rule Government of Greenland. In addition, the two joint declarations on economic and technical cooperation and on environmental cooperation, signed within the framework of the 2004 Agreement, extended the trilateral relationship beyond the military sphere into broader cooperation. These developments indicate a shift toward treating the US presence not merely as a matter internal to the bases but as part of a wider relationship with Greenlandic society. That said, this institutionalization naturally did not resolve the problems left behind by Cold War military activities. In the latter half of the 2010s, issues of environmental contamination and waste at former US military facilities became politicized, and in 2018 Denmark and Greenland concluded an agreement on cleaning up the former facilities.[9]。

It should therefore be reaffirmed that, even if the “opening” elements of the 2026 Agreement are continuous with the 1951 Agreement, the relationship with Greenlandic society to which they apply is decisively different. Moreover, viewed from an Arctic perspective, the security environment surrounding the 2026 Agreement has also changed dramatically since 1951. During the Cold War, the Arctic was regarded as a strategic buffer separating the two superpowers, the United States and the Soviet Union; after the Cold War, it was seen as a space relatively insulated from extra-regional geopolitical rivalries and great-power competition, in which intergovernmental cooperation was sustained. This conception of the Arctic has since been transformed, and the 2026 Agreement was signed as so-called Arctic exceptionalism receded and military presence was reinforced across the Arctic, including Greenland. The principle of non-intimacy, once paired with the military “opening” of the territory, has already disappeared. Expanding US military use while maintaining the relationship with Greenlandic society built in the intervening decades: this is the premise of the 2026 Agreement that distinguishes it from that of 1951.

The differences from 1951 are not limited to the conditions surrounding military access; they also extend to the purposes that justify such access. Article II of the 1951 Agreement linked the need to establish and operate defense areas to the defense of Greenland and the rest of the North Atlantic Treaty area. By contrast, the preamble and Article I of the 2026 Agreement link US military access to Greenland to the defense of the North Atlantic Treaty area, Greenland, and the American continent. Moreover, the defense of the American continent is not merely a general objective. It serves as the basis for determining the need to establish new (additional) defense areas under Article IV(iii), and for determining the need for additional access to and movement within the territorial waters by US public vessels under Article VI(iii). The purpose of defending the American continent has thus been layered onto the logic of collective defense grounded in the North Atlantic Treaty since 1951, and has also been incorporated into the basis for concrete military use in Greenland. Greenland is accordingly positioned not only as a territory to be defended but also, by virtue of its geographic location, as a military and strategic space that explicitly supports the defense of the American continent.

Seen in this light, the overlap with the Okinawa model outlined above certainly did not suddenly emerge with the 2026 Agreement; it can be traced to an institutional continuity dating back to 1951. At the same time, the 2026 Agreement expands the scope and modalities of military access, extends its purpose to the defense of the American continent, and places such access in a social and security environment that differs from that of the past.

Closing

What, then, of the other side of this “opening” mechanism, namely the screening of third-country involvement and the “closing” of the territory? On the military side, Article IX of the 2026 Agreement does not permit non-NATO countries to establish manned or unmanned military facilities in Greenland or to maintain a persistent presence of military forces there, unless the three parties agree otherwise. Article X further extends the scope beyond military facilities and the stationing of forces to foreign investment and other activities. Under this mechanism, countries that are neither NATO members, NATO partners, nor EU member states, as well as investors from such countries, are denied control, significant influence, or access to non-public information with respect to “particularly sensitive sectors or activities,” including critical infrastructure and resource extraction, where such control, influence, or access could pose a threat to national security or public order. This restriction does not apply, however, where the three parties agree that the activity in question does not constitute a threat.

The targets of “closing” are not limited to military facilities and armed forces. Encompassing infrastructure, resources, and investment, the agreement screens who may become militarily or strategically involved in Greenland. In this sense, the guarantee of broad military access for the United States and the barriers to military and strategic involvement by competing third countries form two sides of a single territorial order. The constitution of a security space through the selection of “to whom to open and to whom to close” appears to be another point of contact with the Okinawa model.

Thus, what the Okinawa model explicitly captures, is primarily the structure of territorial use, namely “opening” and “closing.” What substantively underpins the Okinawa model, however, is a mode of limiting the host side’s scope of control by rendering invisible, or incapacitating, the channels through which the host side, and sub-state actors in particular, can participate. How, then, is the sub-state actor in question, Greenland, positioned in the 2026 Agreement?

Governing

Under the 2026 Agreement, Greenland itself participates in setting the boundary that determines how the territory is opened and closed. This is most clearly evident in the establishment of new defense areas. Article IV(iii) provides that when any party raises the need for a new defense area, the parties shall consult without delay in the Permanent Committee on the basis of a proposal specifying its location, scope, size, and types of activities, among other matters, and shall determine the details of implementation by trilateral agreement. The question of where to locate US bases has thus been entrusted to trilateral decision-making that includes Greenland. Failure to reach trilateral agreement, however, does not cause the proposal to lapse. If no agreement is reached in the Permanent Committee within 90 days, consultations are elevated to the deputy-minister level and then to the ministerial level. While the agreement does not provide that the United States may unilaterally establish a defense area even at that stage, neither does it specify what follows if agreement is still not reached. What has been institutionalized here, therefore, is not a mechanism through which Greenland’s disagreement immediately terminates a proposal, but one that “keeps” Greenland in place as a party to decision-making while elevating such disagreement to trilateral political consultation.

It is important to note, however, that Greenland’s involvement in decisions on US military use is not institutionalized through the same mechanism across the board. For unmanned military facilities outside the defense areas, for instance, Article V establishes a mechanism under which the Kingdom of Denmark and Greenland review US requests for their establishment through accelerated governmental approval procedures. By contrast, with respect to access to the defense areas, movement between them, overflight and landing, and undersea access to and movement within the territorial waters, as set out in Article VI(i) and (ii), the agreement itself grants such access to the United States in advance, while leaving room in paragraph (ii) for restrictions by trilateral agreement. In other words, both the mechanisms and the degree of Greenland’s involvement differ between the question of where US bases are to be located and the question of how Greenland’s territory may be used militarily.

Greenland is likewise involved in governing the counterpart to “opening” the territory to the United States, namely “closing” it to competing third countries. Article X, discussed above, provides that Greenland shall secure the objectives of investment screening by applying its own current or future investment screening legislation, in close cooperation with the Kingdom of Denmark. Overlapping with the US military access dating back to 1951, Greenland’s growing agency, built up since 2003/2004, has, in the 2026 Agreement, extended its reach to the questions of to whom the territory is opened, to whom it is closed, and who governs that boundary.

Enduring

Article XI pushes the relationships examined thus far even further. Whereas Article XIV(2) of the 1951 Agreement explicitly tied its duration to that of the North Atlantic Treaty, the 2026 Agreement sets no termination date. Article XI further stipulates in advance that, even if Greenland becomes independent in the future, an independent Greenland, on the premise that it remains in NATO (or, if necessary, applies for membership), would succeed to the rights and obligations under the agreement hitherto held by the Kingdom of Denmark, as well as to related implementing agreements and other arrangements, and to defense arrangements.

What is important here is that Greenland’s growing agency and US military access are not necessarily placed in a relationship in which the expansion of one entails the contraction of the other. Article XI envisages that even if Greenland’s growing agency were to culminate in independence, arguably its ultimate outcome, this would not necessarily mean a break with US military use. Børge Obel of Aarhus University in Denmark points out that this provision may also affect incentives regarding Greenland’s independence.[10] Because post-independence security uncertainty is reduced in advance, the hurdles to independence may be lowered, while the United States secures an institutional channel through which it can maintain its military presence even if Greenland’s status changes.

Bearing the Burden

To whom is the territory opened, to whom is it closed, and who governs that boundary? Examining these institutions of territorial use alone still leaves one question unanswered: who financially sustains this security space? Noteworthy in this respect is the line Trump posted on Truth Social prior to the announcement of the agreement, stating that it would come at “no cost” to the United States.[11] Danish Foreign Minister Lars Løkke Rasmussen, on the other hand, has indicated his understanding that if the United States builds new military bases or facilities, it will bear the costs itself.[12] Trump’s “no cost” post therefore cannot simply be taken to mean that Denmark and Greenland will bear the full costs associated with the US military presence.

Key to interpreting this post is Denmark’s recent expansion of Arctic defense spending. Under the 1951 Agreement, Denmark has never had an explicit host nation support (HNS) obligation to financially sustain the US military presence in Greenland. In recent years, however, policy proposals in the United States have called on Denmark to expand HNS with a view to shifting burdens onto European allies.[13] Since 2025, Denmark has also substantially increased its defense investment in the Arctic and North Atlantic, building up naval vessels, air capabilities, and communications infrastructure, among other assets, and strengthening command and surveillance capabilities in Greenland.[14] Although these investments differ in nature from HNS that directly covers the construction costs of US military facilities, they nonetheless represent the Kingdom’s development, as part of its own defense policy, of a security foundation that supports the activities of NATO and its allies.[15]

If so, the question of “no cost” cannot be fully grasped in terms of the direct costs of US military facilities alone. Even if the United States bears the costs of its own facilities, if the surveillance, communications, infrastructure, and defense capabilities that enable its activities are developed through the host side’s expenditure, the costs of maintaining this security space will in effect be shared under different headings and through different channels. Conversely, the possibilities for military use institutionally opened up by the agreement do not in themselves translate into an actual expansion of the US military presence. The budget request of the Department of War (Department of Defense) for fiscal year 2027 contains no line items explicitly referring to the Arctic or Greenland, and the high costs of constructing and expanding military facilities in Greenland may also constrain any actual expansion.[16]

This point raises a further question about the Okinawa model. If a strategic space is constituted by bases, access rights, and institutions that restrict the involvement of competing third countries, who financially sustains that space? At stake are the questions of whose security needs the infrastructure and capabilities are developed for, who bears their costs, and how that burden relates to decision-making over the territory. The phrase “no cost” surrounding the 2026 Agreement thus leaves us with a further issue that lies beyond the territorial politics of opening, closing, and governing: the politics of burden that makes such a strategic space possible.