Infinity and Paradox

The spectacle of Donald Trump expressing interest in purchasing Greenland offers a striking case study in the mechanics of the ego. It represents a desire to reduce complex realities into ownable assets, satisfying a psychological need for dominance through closure.

The ego perceives the world as a series of transactions, where the ultimate goal is to obtain the “deed” to finalize the ambiguous and make it finite. This political theater, however, points toward a broader, mechanical truth about human flourishing and the danger of “answers”, hence, where the ultimate goal is obtained.

The desire to buy land or conquer it militarily is the material equivalent of the intellectual drive to find a final truth. Both are attempts to terminate a process of inquiry in favor of a static possession. Yet, this finality is a form of death. If the answer is the death of the question, then the satisfaction of the ego — or the finding of the ultimate truth — actually depletes our psychological resources. To find a final answer is to close the door on the intellectual movement that sustains us, trading the infinite energy of seeking for the stagnant comfort of certainty. Which one is the better outcome? It depends.

In a world defined by resource competition, the open question acts as an inexhaustible wellspring of purpose. While answers are finite commodities that are consumed and discarded, the state of perpetual inquiry ensures a sustainable supply of mental engagement.

We should not view the lack of a final answer as a failure, but rather as a renewable resource. By resisting the urge to finalize our understanding, we protect ourselves from the vacuum of boredom and even the strife of political certainty. The “good life” is found not in the purchase, but in the negotiation; not in the dead end of the answer, but in the lush, infinite landscape of the question.

The obsession with acquiring Greenland is a clear example of the collective ego in action. From a non-dual perspective, land ownership is an illusion, yet the nation-state functions as a hungry identity that needs to consume to feel secure. It’s all good. This drive for expansion is a projection of the fear of insignificance, which all has the right. By trying to possess the Arctic, the state entity attempts to validate its status as a dominant force, treating the earth as an object to be conquered rather than an interconnected system. Regardless, inner peace is an individual grind.

Looking ahead, two scenarios seem most likely. The first is a soft annexation driven by capital. The US could pour so much investment into infrastructure and mining that the island becomes economically inseparable from Washington, making formal sovereignty a mere technicality.

The second scenario is a messy independence where Greenland tries to break away but ends up as a pawn in a bidding war between the US, China and Europe.

In both paths, the quest for control is only a shift in dependencies. The lines of the coastline might stay the same, but the reality of power will continue to blur, forever, as the race for resources dictates the ever-new global identity.