In recent weeks, U.S. President Donald J. Trump has unequivocally expressed his desire to purchase Greenland, which holds a constitutional status within the Danish ‘Unity of the Realm’ under the framework of Denmark’s Constitution and the Act on Greenland Self-Government. Dr. Ekaterina Antsygina has already examined the legal foundations of Denmark’s sovereignty over Greenland and the Greenlandic people recognized right to self-determination within international law in EJIL: Talk!. Danish Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen has firmly asserted that ‘Greenland belongs to the Greenlanders’. Likewise, Naaja Nathanielsen, a senior minister in Greenland’s autonomous government, pushed back on Trump’s aggressive buyer’s technique, stating unequivocally: ‘We are not a commodity. And we are not for sale.’
Trump’s invocation of international law policy through the prospect of territorial purchase recalls an earlier period in the pre-history of the United States, when the Dutch were engaged in colonising parts of North East America. The 1620s were an era of inter-imperial rivalry, aggressive capitalism, and the formative development of the law of nature and nations. Precisely four centuries ago, in 1625, the Amsterdam-based Board of the Dutch West India Company (Heeren XIX) issued a directive to its director-governor in New Netherland: to acquire land through purchase.
The entanglement of international law with European colonial expansion has been extensively documented and analysed. This account provides another illustration of that historiographical trajectory, illuminating the Dutch imperialist project of land appropriation and extra-European expansion. However, further considerations are warranted.
Writing from Amsterdam—the birthplace of shareholder capitalism and a city still bearing the imprints of Dutch imperialism, settler colonialism, exploitative plantations, and involvement in enslavement and the transatlantic slave trade—one is reminded of the enduring legacies of these histories, both materially and in their continued impact on human lives. The stakes remain high—not least for international law. Which version will prevail? Will it be the one rooted in capitalist imperialism, or a version that challenges the world-making through capitalist imperialism?
Dutch Empire in North America
In a manner reminiscent of old-fashioned imperialism, President Trump’s claim to Greenland is underpinned by the potential use of economic and/or military force—prerogatives of a sovereign state. His transactional approach to international relations has now further escalated to a predatory capitalist model, one that disregards fundamental principles of international law, including territorial sovereignty and integrity, the right to self-determination, and democratic or participatory decision-making. Instead, the language employed draws upon concepts from private and property law, such as purchase and ownership, as well as on US economic and military power. This, however, is not without historical precedent. It echoes the Dutch strategy for securing property and sovereignty over New Netherland through the acquisition of land by purchase—a legal title that was subsequently used to shield the colony from English rivals.
Since 1609, the Dutch had maintained some presence in the Manahahtáanung area through the activities of the Dutch East India Company (Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie, VOC) and initiatives of a few smaller companies. At that time, the Dutch Republic and its handmaiden, the VOC, was primarily engaged in the construction of a commercial empire, with its principal focus on the East Indies. In line with this commercial outlook, the VOC contracted Henry Hudson to ‘search for a passage [to the East] by the North (om passage te soecken door ‘t Noorden)’ rather than via the Cape of Good Hope. The contract specified no other objective. During the summer of 1609, Hudson navigated the Halve Maen along the north-eastern coast of the Americas, travelling towards the Delaware River before ascending what local inhabitants referred to as the Muhheakantuck River, and which later was called the Hudson River.
That same year, in late April, Hugo Grotius (1583–1645) published Mare Liberum, in which he argued that free navigation and free trade were natural rights of all peoples. This short treatise was based on Chapter XII of De Iure Praedae, a work written around 1603–04 when Grotius was still a corporate lawyer for the VOC. Though De Iure Praedae remained unpublished until the late nineteenth century, its reworked chapter offers valuable insight into the legal consciousness of the VOC community at the time. In Mare Liberum, Grotius advanced a vision of international law in which neither the title of discovery nor the title of occupation was required for maritime navigation or trade with indigenous peoples:
‘Neither discovery nor occupation […] is to be invoked on the point here under consideration [to trade in the East Indies], because the right of carrying on trade is not something corporal, which can be physically seized; […]’ (Mare Liberum, Ch IX).
Discovery, he argued, could only serve as a legal basis for property and sovereignty if the land in question was uninhabited. Where peoples had already settled, the land was not ‘lost’ rather it had been ‘found’ before. Although Mare Liberum was published weeks after Hudson had set sail from the Netherlands, it provides an entry for understanding the legal consciousness that shaped VOC policy and the mindset Hudson carried with him during his explorations and interactions with indigenous peoples in North America.
By 1609, this Eurocentric legal consciousness was taking shape—at least for the Dutch—through their colonial engagements in the East Indies. The world was conceptualised as a universal natural society governed by the laws of nature, in which both Europeans and indigenous peoples coexisted. According to this framework, all peoples possessed the natural right to visit one another, to engage in peaceful communication, to navigate the seas and waterways, to trade, and to punish gross violations of natural law. Within this natural society, individuals could appropriate and use goods and land according to their needs, provided they refrained from harming others. This normative structure enabled European colonisers to recognise native rulers and peoples as legal subjects, while simultaneously employing the same legal language to justify the appropriation of land and the expansion of Dutch colonial rule. However, throughout six decades of Dutch colonisation, this justificatory framework remained unstable, evolving under continual pressure and as such, in turn, influencing the fact on the ground.
A detailed discussion of Dutch legal rationales for the colonisation of New Netherland and their implications for the development of international law lies beyond the scope of this piece. Instead, I want to point here to a pivotal shift in colonial strategy during the 1620s: the transition from a commercial empire to settler colonialism, and the increasing reliance on private property as the legal foundation of colonial rule.
When the Halve Maen traversed the coastline between the Delaware and the Fresh River, and ventured up the Muhheakantuck, an embryonic form of this Grotian legal consciousness was likely in play. An illuminating source in this regard is the travel journal of Robert Juet, a VOC officer aboard the Halve Maen during Hudson’s expedition. Notably, Juet’s journal contains no record of actions or events that could substantiate a claim to land on the basis of ‘discovery’ or ‘occupation’. Instead, his accounts focus on the landscape, the encounters with indigenous peoples—both amicable and hostile—and on indications that these communities had prior contact with Europeans.
Juet described a first encounter ‘with sixe of the Sauages of the Countrey, seeming glad of our comming.’ The six native americans come on board. ‘VVe gaue them trifles, and they eate and dranke with vs ; and told vs, that there were Gold, Siluer, and Copper mynes hard by vs; and that the French-men doe Trade with them; which is very likely, for one of them spoke some words of French.’
His observations centre on the region’s natural resources, commercial potential, and agricultural fertility, rather than territorial possession. Although the expedition’s mere objective was to locate a northern passage, the Dutch took the opportunity to explore the area’s economic prospects.
The language Juet employed fluctuates between depictions of indigenous peoples as ‘savage human beings’ and as ‘very civil’ and ‘very louing people’, who exhibited ‘friendship’ but were not to be ‘trusted’ and were, at times, considered ‘treacherous’. His journal provides insights into the VOC’s engagement with indigenous communities, revealing a dynamic of social and commercial exchange. In the absence of established state institutions, the VOC assumed for itself the natural right to administer justice, including physical punishment in response to perceived theft.
Juet’s account offers a window into the Dutch perception of their presence in North America: an unquestioned entitlement framed in legal, economic, and moral terms. In Grotian language, the Dutch understood themselves to be part of a universal natural society, experiencing at some level a fundamental sociability and mutual recognition with the indigenous inhabitants. Native communities were viewed as potential trading partners, yet simultaneously regarded as culturally and religiously inferior. The journal ultimately reflects the priorities of a commercial empire—one that wielded violence when necessary, but without an immediate ambition to occupy land, displace indigenous populations, or assert full sovereignty. However, this was only the first voyage.
The Dutch turn to settler colonialism: the purchase of Manahahtáanung and more
Following a series of initial trading expeditions and the establishment of trading posts, Dutch colonisation in New Netherland shifted in the 1620s with the founding of the Dutch West India Company (West-Indische Compagnie, WIC) in 1621. The sovereign authority of the nascent Dutch state, the States General, granted the WIC an exclusive trading monopoly for the territories to the West of Cape of Good Hope. In the charter, the States-General of the United Provinces stipulated that the WIC:
‘may, in [their] name and authority, within the limits herein before prescribed, make contracts, engagements and alliances with the princes and natives of the countries comprehended therein, and also build any forts and fortifications there, to appoint and discharge Governors, people for war, and officers of justice, and other public officers, for the preservation of the places, keeping good order, police and justice, and in like manner for the promoting of trade; and again, others in their place to put, as they from the situation of their affairs shall see fit: Moreover, they must advance the peopling of those fruitful and unsettled parts, and do all that the service of those countries, and the profit and increase of trade shall require’ [emphasis added].
Although the charter does not explicitly reference the emerging law of nature and nations, the legal consciousness underpinning it is evident. The authority to conclude contracts or treaties presupposed the existence of a natural legal order in which such agreements would be binding, and further implied that the indigenous peoples were sufficiently ‘civilised’ to be recognised as contracting parties. Similarly, the directive to occupy land for the construction of forts and other colonial infrastructure, as well as to settle the land, applied solely to ‘unsettled’ territories—aligning with the prevailing Grotian legal consciousness of the time.
As the article shows, both the States-General and the WIC were acutely aware of contemporary legal thought, particularly the principle that Dutch settlers should confine themselves to land deemed vacuum domicilium (uninhabited land). In such a situation, ‘the first one taking possession would have the right to use things not claimed and to consume them up to the limit of his needs.’ (Grotius, DJBP I.II.I.5) However, this legal rationale proved untenable, as Dutch settlers soon realised that the land was, in fact, inhabited by Native American communities who had developed sophisticated systems of land use and cultivation. If the natural acquisition of land was not a viable legal basis—the New Netherland area was no waste land—and the indigenous peoples were recognised as the original private and public owners of the territory, what, then, could constitute a legitimate legal title to ownership—both private and public—of New Netherland? By what means could the Dutch obtain ownership within the framework of both public and private law?
Securing a valid legal title to property and sovereignty in New Netherland was all the more pressing given the context of inter-imperial competition. While the primary motivation for the increase of settlers was undoubtedly trade and profit, the Dutch also faced mounting pressure from rival European empires in the Americas, particularly the English and the Swedes. The English were steadily populating the northeastern coast of America, establishing villages, cultivating land, and expanding into what the Dutch considered their territory. In response, the Dutch sought to consolidate their legal claims.
According to Mare Liberum, public ownership (i.e., sovereignty) could arise through the establishment of private property. Once land was privately owned by the WIC and Dutch settlers, it would fall under the public jurisdiction of the States-General. The question remained, however: how could the Dutch acquire private ownership of the land?
Pursuant to Article II of its charter, the Heeren XIX—the governing board of the WIC—formulated a policy of ‘empire by purchase’. The first clear indications of this policy emerged in 1625, the same year that Hugo Grotius published De Jure Belli ac Pacis for the first time. That year, the WIC headquarters in Amsterdam issued the following instruction to Willem Verhulst, the director-general of New Netherland:
‘In case any Indian[s] should be living on the aforesaid island [Manhattan] or make any claim upon it or any other places that are of use to us, they must not be driven away by force or threat, but by good words be persuaded to leave, or be given something therefor to their satisfaction, or else be allowed to live among us, a contract being made thereof and signed by them in their manner, since such contracts upon other occasions maybe very useful to the Company.’ (A.J.F. van Laer, trans. 1924 Documents Relating to New Netherlands 1624-1626 (1924) 51-2.)
The acquisition of land from Native American peoples, it was asserted, should not be achieved ‘by force or by threat, but by good words [they should] be persuaded to leave, or be given something therefor to their satisfaction, or else be allowed to live among us, a contract being made thereof and signed by them in their manner […].’ The Dutch colonists, therefore, were expected to purchase land at a satisfactory price. This approach signified a strategic shift, whereby land acquisition by purchase—rather than by eg just war, which had been the main Spanish practice in the sixteenth century in Southern parts of the Americas—became a cornerstone of Dutch claims to both private and public ownership.
Arguably, it was then Peter Minuit, successor to Willem Verhulst, who was the first to apply this principle in 1626 when he famously “purchased” the island of Manahahtáanung on behalf of the West India Company (WIC), as is suggested by the infamous Peter Schaghen letter written that same year. The peopling of the country and the buying of land developed however too slowly, according to the WIC and the States-General. The issuance of a new WIC charter, ‘Of Freedoms and Exemptions’ on 7 June 1629 further encouraged agricultural colonisation by granting WIC stockholders the right to purchase extensive tracts of land from Native American communities to ‘plant’ new colonies and to ‘populate’ New Netherland further. The WIC committed itself to transporting settlers via its ships while deploying troops to ‘defend’ the colony (cf the 1629 Charter). Article XXVI of the Charter reaffirmed that colonists ‘must satisfy the Indians of that place for the land’.
In the subsequent years, WIC shareholders such as Van Rensselaer, Pauw, and De Laet acquired substantial territories along the riverbanks surrounding Manahahtáanung, formally purchasing them from Native American people and groups. While the Dutch imposed their legal system upon indigenous people, they did so with administrative and procedural precision. This is exemplified by ‘certificates of purchase’ from August 1630 and May 1631, which specify the exact plots of land purchased and names of native Americans from whom the land is bought. The certificates are also explicit on the technical details of purchase, eg on the price that the native Americans had received and accepted: they ‘declared freely and advisedly that for and on account of certain quantity of merchandise which they acknowledged to have received in their hands and possession before the execution hereof, by virtue and title of sale, they hereby convey, cede and make over to and for the behoof of the Hon. Kiliaen van Rensselaer […].’ (Van Rensselaer Bowier Manuscripts, at 167-68.) These cases illustrate the legalistic approach underpinning what was, in effect, land expropriation or ‘a Sort of Robbery’ (Grotius DJBP Book II.XIV).
Text on an annotated map further elucidates this practice of purchase: it is explicated that not just property is obtained, but also ‘jurisdiction’ of the land bought from the Mahikans and that this was official through the sealed documents given to the Director and Councils of the WIC in New Netherland: ‘Anno 1630, on the 28th day of July, Killiaen van Renselaer caused to be purchased from the nations called the Mahikans their lands and the jurisdiction thereof, situated on the west side of the North River, south and north of Fort Orange, according to the sealed conveyance executed before the director and council of the Chartered West India Company by Cottomack and Nawanemit, Abantzene, Sagisquwa and Kanamoack, on the 8th of August, Anno 1630. Also from Nawanemit individually his lands called Semesseeck, situated on the east side of the river aforesaid, opposite Fort Orange, above as well as below, and from Paetanock, the mill creek, northward to Negagonce.’ (Van Rensselaer Bowier Manuscripts, at 34-35.)
Examining Hugo Grotius’ De Jure Belli ac Pacis (DJBP Book II. XII and XIV) alongside the Inleidinghe (1631)—the first systematic treatise on Dutch-Roman law—reveals the conceptual foundation of purchase as a legal institution. Purchase, in this framework, required a voluntary agreement—it could thus be legally binding only when the land is not offered with fear, or, in another way with a Will that is defect—and a just price. Within the natural law context, valid purchase may exist with or without written documentation. However, in civil law this is more complicated. In any case, the Dutch meticulously maintained records to substantiate the legality of their territorial claims (cf. Inleidinghe, Book III, Parts XIV and XV). This exemplifies the legalistic dimensions of Dutch imperialism and how instrumental its use of (international) law was.
Yet, the colonial strategy of territorial expansion through purchase rested on fragile ideological ground. The Dutch imposed upon Native American societies their European, Christian legal worldview, asserting the universal applicability of the law of nature and nations. Much has been written on the role of international law in legitimising European dominance, and in this instance, the formal inclusion of Native American peoples within Dutch legal frameworks served to enforce institutions of property and purchase that were entirely alien to indigenous traditions. The result was not only expropriation of land vital to their existence but, in many cases, violent subjugation, as the Dutch sought to defend their legally constructed—yet fundamentally dubious—claims to land ownership.
The institution of purchase, as derived from the law of nature and nations, also played a crucial role in Dutch legal defences against English encroachment. A letter from 1649, written by Peter Stuyvesant, the then Director-General of New Netherland, to Governor John Endecot of Boston, exemplifies this. In it, Stuyvesant invoked the ‘lawfull purchase from the natiues’ as the foundation of Dutch claims, arguing that, since the acquisition had been authorised by the States-General, it conferred not only private but also public ownership upon the Dutch.
This context of Anglo-Dutch imperial rivalry is critical to understanding the colonisation of New Netherland and its impact on international legal developments. The Dutch model of colonial expansion via purchase was underpinned by an ideology of unbridled capitalism—one devoid of real legal constraints on corporate conduct, without fair play with non-Christian peoples. Instead, profit, exploitation, greed, and violence defined both corporate and state action. Within this framework, the land of the Native American peoples was reduced to a commodity, to be purchased, cultivated, and incorporated into the Dutch imperial domain.
“Empire by purchase” was thus not a benign transaction but a project of appropriation and domination, orchestrated by a small circle of wealthy Dutch investors who sought to exploit the land and resources of indigenous peoples. The legal doctrines of property and purchase, rather than serving as instruments of fairness or legality, became mechanisms of predatory capitalism. This legal policy was intertwined with mercantilist expansion and military force; commerce and coercion operated in tandem. Law, in this context, became an instrument of imperial violence, serving the interests of the Dutch Empire rather than justice to be done to fellow peoples. Ultimately, the expansion of the Dutch colonial enterprise in New Netherland was driven by private capital and corporate interests.
In the North American context of this inter-imperial contest, the Dutch political and commercial elite deliberately pursued a policy of ‘empire by purchase’. Within a short span, the WIC and the Dutch Patroons secured private ownership of vast tracts of land, while the States-General established sovereignty over New Netherland. This process actively shaped the evolving doctrines of the law of nature and nations, with international law itself emerging in the context of imperial rivalry and predatory capitalism.
Some authors have presented New Netherland as an early chapter in the history of the United States, often extolling Dutch rule for its supposed contributions to values such as liberty and tolerance. However, if this narrative is to be pursued, it must be accompanied by a fuller account—one that acknowledges how ‘empire by purchase’, in concert with predatory capitalism, played a decisive role in shaping both international law and the history of imperial exploitation of land and humans (see also the WIC charter on enslavement and slave-trade).
The legacy of this approach extends far beyond the seventeenth century. Since 1625, the United States has attempted on multiple occasions to purchase Greenland and successfully acquired Alaska in 1867. Today, American expansionism seems open to rely on similar strategies of territorial appropriation and domination, propelled by the same interwoven forces of predatory capitalism and militarism.
International Law in an Era of US-China Rivalry and Capitalist Imperialism: Empires by Purchase
Greenland is an autonomous territory within the Kingdom of Denmark, a founding member of NATO. The United States already maintains a military presence on the island, which raises the question: if national and international security concerns could be addressed within the existing framework of the NATO alliance, what more could be driving the American administration’s interest in purchasing Greenland? What additional strategic benefits would ownership of the island confer upon the United States?
Fundamentally, the desire to acquire Greenland seems not solely about private ownership or economic investment but about extending public ownership—sovereignty—over the territory. This reflects the longstanding fusion of capitalism, mercantilism, and militarism in American foreign policy. The rhetoric surrounding the proposed acquisition makes this clear. Congressman Ogles, in introducing the Make Greenland Great Again Act, declared that ‘[t]he acquisition of Greenland by the United States is essential to our national security. Joe Biden took a blowtorch to our reputation these past four years, and before even taking office, President Trump is telling the world that America First is back. American economic and security interests will no longer take a backseat.’ Similarly, Congresswoman Harshbarger stated, ‘We have a mandate to help President Trump execute his America First agenda, which is one of the reasons I’m proud to be an original cosponsor of this bill. Greenland, becoming part of the US, would not only provide a strategic military advantage and boost the American economy but also benefit the residents of Greenland.’ (Emphasis added in both citations.)
The underlying motivations for acquiring Greenland are therefore twofold: first, the island’s geostrategic significance, and second, its economic potential, particularly in terms of natural resources. This reflects an unabashed imperial logic that disregards the rights of Greenland’s inhabitants and its status as a self-governing territory. In essence, the proposition aligns with a historically entrenched pattern of expansionism—an “empire first” approach that, under the guise of economic and security interests, seeks to impose control over a territory and its people.
The present moment is marked by an intensification of inter-imperial competition, particularly between the United States and China. The American bid to acquire Greenland cannot be understood in isolation but must be situated within the broader context of US-China geopolitical rivalry in the Arctic region. One dimension of this competition is the strategy of empire by purchase. Under the framework of the Chinese Dream of Rejuvenation, President Xi Jinping has articulated China’s aspirations for greater influence in the Arctic, integrating this ambition into the expansion of the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) through the so-called Polar Silk Road.
China’s imperial toolkit has long included strategic investments in shipping routes, port acquisitions, large-scale infrastructure projects funded through foreign direct investment (FDI), and control over critical natural resources. This approach has been evident in the Arctic region, particularly in Chinese investments in Greenland and attempts to acquire a former military installation on the island. Through the BRI, China has leveraged state-controlled and often state-owned enterprises to establish a global presence, embedding itself from within national jurisdictions in pursuit of a China-led international order. As John Ikenberry, Professor of Politics and International Affairs at Princeton University, has observed, ‘China and other emerging great powers do not want to contest the basic rules and principles of the liberal international order; they wish to gain more authority and leadership within it.’
Thus, in 2025, we find ourselves witnessing a renewed iteration of imperial rivalry—two global superpowers seeking to expand their spheres of influence through territorial and infrastructural acquisition, whether by direct purchase of the country or economic entrenchment. This recalls the long-standing relationship between imperialism, predatory capitalism, and international law, in which legal frameworks have often served to legitimise expansionist ambitions while marginalising indigenous and local populations. Yet, unlike in 1625 or 1876, the legal landscape has evolved. Although historically shaped by hegemony and domination, international law has also developed through contestation and resistance against capitalist imperialism’s most violent excesses.
The prospect of the United States acquiring Greenland through a forced purchase in the context of US-China imperial rivalry demands far greater scrutiny than it has generally been afforded. The kind of predation envisaged in such a move necessitates a firm response from Europe. Upholding the principles of international law requires rejecting the commodification of an entire territory and resisting the denial of the Greenlandic people’s right to self-determination. Europe must formulate a coherent Arctic foreign policy that does not merely react to the ambitions of competing empires but actively seeks to dismantle the entrenched relationship between capitalism and imperialism.
More broadly, the case of Greenland serves as a poignant reminder that the future of international law lies not in the resurrection of imperialist practices, but in the recognition and respect for the rights and aspirations of all peoples, particularly those who have historically been marginalised. As we navigate the complex geopolitical landscape of the 21st century, it is imperative that we choose a path that prioritises mutual respect, cooperation, and the advancement of a truly inclusive global order.
