Unearthing Colonial Histories: The Complex Legacy of Greenland

In the summer of 1999, I took the artist Pia Arke to the Dagens Nyheter image archive, a place filled with forgotten photographs and stories longing to be told. The previous year, Pia and I had visited her birthplace, Ittoqqortoormiit, also known as Scoresbysund, nestled in the icy expanse of East Greenland. Together, we created a book detailing the history of this settlement, which was founded in 1925 through promises and coercion from the Danish Greenland Society. They brought approximately twenty Inuit families to the area under the guise of prosperity. The urgency felt by the Danes masked an ulterior motive, one rooted deep in colonial exploitation. As we rummaged through the archive, we uncovered an envelope labeled 'Greenland - Ethnics'. Pia's eyes lit up as she pulled out a photograph from 1932 featuring a young Inuit couple, dressed in traditional kamiks and appearing grumpy—perhaps they were simply weary of posing for the camera. The stamp on the back, marking copyright from The Times in London, had a note claiming the couple were 'Eskimos encountered by the expedition'. Pia wasn’t aware of it before that moment, and tears filled her eyes when she realized that the couple in the photograph were her grandparents, Niels and Katinka. This was not just a forgotten image; it was a piece of her family history—an artifact returned to its rightful owner. The photographic evidence of these encounters underscores the colonial dynamics that haunted the indigenous populations of Greenland for decades. Pia described how, during the summer of 1932, three ships docked at Scoresbysund, bringing with them adventurers, researchers, and tourists. The local Inuit families, caught up in the tide of visitors, found themselves reduced to mere subjects for photographs and narratives crafted by outsiders. My visit to Ittoqqortoormiit in 1998 revealed the stark realities of colonialism. The settlement, populated by around 400 people, displayed a relationship of glaring inequality. An array of experts from Copenhagen—the police, municipal director, doctor, engineer—stood at the top of this social hierarchy, while the indigenous Inuit families endured high unemployment, widespread poverty, and hopeless futures for their youth. The stark line dividing the privileged and the marginalized was vivid in such a small community. The forced relocation of hunter families to Scoresbysund happened against a backdrop of geopolitical maneuvering. Northeastern Greenland, previously uninhabited, became a point of contention among various states, especially Norway. The matter was ultimately decided in 1933 in The Hague, favoring Denmark. The Danish authorities presented Scoresbysund as evidence of their 'interest' in developing the land, though it played a significant role in asserting their territorial claims. This move was but a component of broader interwar geopolitical theories that evaluated state power based on population, resources, and military might. In the years following World War II, the world began to rethink the geopolitical paradigm that had fueled colonial expansion. The lessons from Nazi Germany’s domination made the world question the legitimacy of racial superiority narratives. Consequently, a new multilateral international order emerged, prominently featuring the United Nations, which purported to promote self-determination and the prevention of war. However, in clear contradiction to these principles, Greenland’s status as a Danish colony was solidified post-war—a decision made without the input of the Greenlanders themselves. Fast forward to today, geopolitical tensions have resurged, often overshadowing the very principles that were once advocated. The international legal order now faces challenges as nations engage in resource competition, driven by self-interests that often trample on human rights and self-determination. The implications of this modern colonialism resonate in regions like Palestine, Ukraine, and Venezuela, with marginalized groups bearing the brunt of national agendas. In Europe, a new geopolitical reality emerged with the rising influence of nationalist sentiments, evident in the policy shifts following recent geopolitical events, including conflicts in Ukraine and the policies of previous administrations like Trump’s. The focus appears to have shifted from universal rights towards protecting 'the European lifestyle'—a phrase that inherently suggests a prioritization of nationalistic ideologies over the complexities of human rights and international law, which have again become pliable to state ambitions. Yet, the question remains: Is the Greenland issue merely about Denmark or the USA? This perspective misses the broader narrative of indigenous rights and self-determination. Greenland can be seen not only as a territorial concern but as an opportunity for Europe—particularly Denmark—to relinquish its colonial mindset and foster genuine partnerships that respect the voices and aspirations of the Greenlandic people. What would a practical realization of international law look like? It could involve unconditional independence for Greenlanders, paired with equitable aid and collaborative efforts focused on community welfare, serving as reparations for historical injustices. As we ponder these possibilities, there is an irrefutable sense of urgency. We stand at a crossroads where acknowledging the past is essential for paving a sustainable future. The echoes of colonialism and outdated geopolitical narratives must not dictate the path forward. Our willingness to recognize and rectify historical wrongs may define the fate of not just Greenland, but the very essence of global humanity. Related Sources: • Source 1 • Source 2