Ilrissat, Greenland – Half a day later, I found myself gripping the tired handle of the dog sled as 11 energetic dogs raced across Greenland’s frozen landscape. The wind whipped against our faces, but the musher’s sharp calls—quick bursts of “Yip! Yip!” and a trilled “drrrr!”—cut through the steady crunch of paws on snow.
Musher Mamalto Nielsen seemed to navigate the terrain effortlessly, leaning out from the sled, guiding it over barren spots and rocks without losing control. He hardly needed to use the whip; the dogs instinctively knew their route.
After a couple of hours, we paused to take in a breathtaking mountain view over a field of icebergs. While the dogs rested, Mamalto prepared us hot chocolate and introduced each of the dogs, explaining their rankings within the pack. The male dogs draped themselves around us, eager for affection.
Mamalto spoke proudly of his family’s legacy; his father and grandfather were seal and narwhal hunters, even taking down polar bears at times. Yet, at just 14, he expressed to his father his desire for a different life.
These days, Mamalto runs a tour company in Ilulissat, offering tourists glimpses into Inuit traditions that are increasingly hard to sustain. He speaks both Greenlandic and fluent English—not learned in school, but acquired through video games and podcasts—and currently works as a translator for visiting crews and tourists.
This venture isn’t just about survival for him; it’s about cultural preservation.
Our journey linked us to Greenland’s rich traditions. Our arrival felt poignant with echoing memories of President Trump’s suggestion to buy or annex the island still circulating in the Arctic.
Reportedly, in May, U.S. officials began considering a compact of free association with Greenland, which could provide Washington enhanced strategic access in exchange for services like defense and visa-free travel.
Then, in June, Trump directed U.S. troops in Greenland to shift from European Command to Northern Command, intensifying the focus on Arctic defense amid rising global tensions.
Yet, beyond the political maneuvers lies a multifaceted society grappling with the challenges of maintaining centuries-old traditions against the pressures of modernity. The struggle occurs at a crossroads where autonomy meets a colonial past, and the desire for environmental conservation clashes with resource extraction, reshaping not only Greenland’s economy but also its identity.
In Nuuk, the capital, the clash of modernity and colonial remnants is evident. Stark concrete buildings from the mid-20th century sit alongside new homes built for the members of the Greenland Parliament. A contemporary international airport and a cutting-edge university focusing on Arctic research further illustrate the change. Even cemeteries are categorized as “old” and “new.”
Greenland’s economy has historically leaned on fishing, supplemented by annual grants from Denmark, amounting to around $600 million. While Greenland manages its domestic affairs, Denmark maintains oversight of courts, foreign policy, and defense. Polling indicates a strong desire for independence, with 84% of Greenlanders supporting the move. A party advocating for autonomy recently made significant gains in the national elections.
As Greenland strives for economic self-sufficiency, many citizens view closer ties with the U.S. positively. The burgeoning economy, fueled by tourism and mineral resources, exists alongside fears of cultural erosion and environmental damage.
The challenge lies in harmonizing the traditional with the modern. It’s about integrating age-old customs not as relics but as vital components of a contemporary economy.
In Nuuk, we met Sophie, a young woman who proudly showcased her traditional Inuit seal skin outfit. She teaches others how to sew similar garments, sometimes hunting and peeling seals herself. After further education, she became part of Kitato, a museum dedicated to traditional Greenlandic clothing.
For Mamarto, Sophie’s language skills broaden her opportunities. “I can speak Danish and a bit of English,” she shared, which led her to offer workshops in places like Nunavut, Alaska, and Norway.
In Sophie’s mother’s generation, wearing seal skin was associated with poverty, a stigma which has begun to fade. Nowadays, younger people seem drawn to traditional clothing that suits the Arctic climate. With increased interest in Inuit culture, Sophie hopes the government will invest more in cultural preservation. “I’m really excited about this airport,” she mentioned, hoping it will attract travelers eager to learn about Greenlandic traditions.
We also heard similar hopeful sentiments from Nuuna Papis Chemnitz, whose ceramics reflect the salt from Greenland’s coastline. Her workshop, housed in a nearly century-old wooden building, was constructed long before tourists came to Greenland.
Nuuna’s journey into pottery began as a hobby during her time working at Greenland Air, and as demand grew, she left her airline job. When we visited, she greeted a steady stream of customers. Like Sophie, she views the new airport as a game-changer, and interest stemming from Trump’s remarks has boosted her business.
Though most visitors still come from Denmark, the landscape is shifting. Recently, United Airlines began a direct route from Newark, making the journey only four hours long.
While Greenland is the largest unpopulated island in the world, home to just 56,000 people across an expanse the size of Western Europe, there’s a need for more residents—both tourists and immigrants—to facilitate economic growth.
Ilrissat is officially managed by Rose Busaco Andersen, who operates an international staffing agency. Originally from the Philippines, she had never even heard of Greenland when she received her first job offer there.
Now, twelve years later, she’s still here, recruiting workers globally for various local businesses, including her own restaurants. Some have even participated in constructing a new airport set to open next April.
She travels abroad to interview candidates from as far away as Argentina, and most stay—particularly the Filipinos, who have become the second-largest immigrant group in Greenland after Danes. “Twelve years ago, we had about 11 or 12 Filipinos here,” she noted. “Now, it’s around 1,800 in Nuuk.”
Rose took us to visit the new airport under construction. There, a foreman named Rasmus shared his view as a foreign worker, jokingly placing air quotes around the term “foreigners.” “I’m from Denmark,” he said, pointing to the complex blend of relationships at play.
Many Danes still hold positions of power in Greenland’s government and businesses—an ongoing reminder of the colonial past. Some Greenlanders feel rushed towards modernization, disrupting traditional lifestyles and leaving enduring impacts. Tragically, Greenland has the highest suicide rate globally, particularly among the youth, which experts link to cultural upheaval.
Climate change looms large in the conversation. Everyone seems to have a story about once-safe hunting routes now compromised due to warmer winters and decreasing ice thickness. Reports show the Arctic is warming nearly four times faster than the global average.
“If you want to see climate change firsthand, come to Ilrissat,” Rose urged. “You’ll witness the ice melting. I never believed in climate change until I came to Greenland and saw it with my own eyes. It’s real.”
On our second day in Ilulissat, we met a fisherman named Karl, who loaded his sled and dogs onto his boat for a seal hunt. When asked if he noticed signs of climate change, he emphatically replied, “Yes, yes, yes.” He recounted new observations in the melting ice after 30 years of fishing. “The conditions are different. We should still be out hunting, but the ice and snow are melting too early.”
Mamalto’s father, Ole Christensen, echoed these worries. He shared how the arrival of sea ice has been delayed, disrupting traditional rhythms handed down through generations. He described 2023 as particularly devastating, when his community found itself on the brink of starvation.
He stars in a documentary titled “The Color of the Ice,” highlighting his experiences as a hunter facing the challenges of diminishing sea ice near Kanaak. When I met him, he had just returned from a screening in Taiwan, where some audience members were moved to tears by his story.
As Greenland’s ice recedes, once-inaccessible areas are being uncovered, revealing new shipping routes and reserves of oil, gas, and minerals. Climate change has transformed this frozen frontier into a focal point for geopolitical interests, drawing attention from the U.S., China, and others eager to tap into the resource-rich Arctic.
For Greenland, the melting landscape brings both opportunities and challenges—not only offers for greater economic independence but also a critical test of how far they’re willing to go for prosperity.
When Mamarto expressed his desire to attend college instead of pursuing hunting, I didn’t push back. “It’s fine,” he recalled thinking. The loss of sea ice was evident. Climate change was altering their lives.
My family’s journey mirrors the larger path of Greenland. This community is navigating the complex balancing act of political self-determination coupled with climate change. As calls for independence intensify and the warming climate pressures traditional practices, Greenland may find its path forward by embracing global engagement while cherishing its heritage.
