In 1648, the Peace of Westphalia established a revolutionary principle that has anchored global order for nearly four centuries: the legal equality of sovereign states and the sanctity of their borders. It was a practical accommodation to reality, designed to end an era of chaotic, faith-based warfare by ensuring that every state, regardless of its size or strength, held exclusive jurisdiction over its own territory.
Today, however, that foundation is being systematically dismantled. In its place is a new “illiberal diplomacy” where sovereignty is no longer a right but a commodity to be bartered, leased, or coerced in a high-stakes marketplace of great-power interests.
The most vivid illustration of this shift is the ongoing crisis over Greenland. What began as a seemingly erratic social media demand has matured into a sophisticated strategy of strategic denial. By February 2026, the White House had pivoted from the blunt pursuit of a purchase to what analysts call the Okinawa model. This framework seeks to grant the United States profound, sovereign access to Greenland’s military and mineral resources while leaving the Danish flag flying over the territory.
This approach is essentially the “Okinawa-fication” of the North Atlantic. Just as the United States maintains an indispensable forward-deployed presence on Japanese soil, it now seeks to turn Greenland into a permanent Arctic aircraft carrier. This strategy reached its official zenith on February 11, with the formal activation of the NATO “Arctic Sentry” mission. Although NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte has framed this mission as a multilateral security initiative, it is really a way for Washington to harden its defense posture against Russia’s Northern Fleet and to structurally limit China’s ability to invest in critical mineral extraction without the messy optics of a formal land sale.
For Washington, the goal is twofold: security and resource denial. It is a win for American interests, perhaps, but it comes at a staggering cost to the transatlantic alliance. By threatening 25 percent tariffs on European allies to extract these “access concessions,” the administration has introduced a level of coercion that makes traditional NATO cooperation look like a relic of a bygone era.
Although the Greenland crisis demonstrates how Washington is leaning on its allies, the creation of the Board of Peace reveals its intent to bypass the United Nations entirely. Formally ratified in Davos last month, the Board was initially presented as a technocratic body to manage the demilitarization and reconstruction of Gaza. However, its charter reveals a far more ambitious agenda. It is a standing global organization, chaired for life by Donald Trump, designed to operate in any conflict zone where the United States sees fit to intervene.
The Board is moving toward its first major test: the inaugural leaders’ summit scheduled for February 19, 2026. The venue itself is a symbol of this new era; the summit will be held at the Donald J. Trump U.S. Institute of Peace, the federal facility in Washington that was aggressively reorganized and renamed by executive order last year. Allies like Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán and Argentine President Javier Milei have already confirmed their attendance. Resistance to this Board, however, has come from an unexpected quarter.
Although led by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, long seen as a natural ideological ally of the American president, Italy formally ruled out joining the body. Foreign Minister Antonio Tajani cited insurmountable constitutional issues, specifically Article 11 of the Italian constitution, which forbids Italy from joining organizations that do not operate on the basis of legal equality among states. This dissent was bolstered on February 11 by Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk, who also declined participation. Europeans are increasingly seeing the “membership fee” model, which requires a $1 billion entry price for permanent status, not as a diplomatic invitation but a protection racket.
Italy and Poland’s refusal is a significant moment in the return of principled realism. It suggests that even for the European right, there is a limit to how much sovereignty can be traded for proximity to American power. When G7 members choose constitutional integrity over an invitation to the most exclusive table in global politics, it signals a growing exhaustion with the transactional nature of American leadership.
This vacuum of traditional leadership has triggered a fascinating counter-reaction: the rise of pragmatic, middle-power coalitions that deliberately exclude the United States. While Washington is focused on bilateral deals and personalized boards, countries like Canada and the members of ASEAN are building flexible, rules-based networks. The Canada-in-Asia Conference (CIAC2026), held last week in Singapore, highlighted a new model of smart infrastructure and food security diplomacy. This is not an anti-American alliance, but rather a “post-American” one. These nations are prioritizing supply-chain resilience and digital governance through pooled resources, creating a stabilizing force that is insulated from the oscillating whims of any single great power.
The global order is no longer a single, cohesive project. Instead, it is becoming a fragmented landscape of sovereign enclaves and transactional boards. The danger of this new era is not just the erosion of international law but the loss of predictability. When security and trade are used as weapons against allies, the very foundations of the Western alliance begin to crumble.
The Okinawa model and the Board of Peace may provide the United States with short-term tactical wins, but they are hollowing out the long-term legitimacy of American power. If the path to peace and security is paved with coercion and exorbitant entry fees, the rest of the world will continue to seek out more stable alternatives. In 2026, the true test of a superpower is no longer what it can take, but what it can still build together with others.
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