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When President Donald Trump posted a meme of himself planting a U.S. flag on Greenland, captioned “U.S. Territory Est. 2026,” the reaction was immediate. This action followed what was described as the “Trump Corollary,” an ideological revival and extension of the Monroe Doctrine, a doctrine long used to justify U.S. intervention across Latin America and the Caribbean.
From a decolonial perspective, the Monroe Doctrine was never simply about excluding European empires, despite that being one of its stated objectives. It positioned the United States as the hemisphere’s dominant imperial actor. These actions sparked widespread responses, including concerns expressed on a January 2026 Canada-based Caribbean focused radio and web panel hosted by John Caliste entitled Competing Powers, Shared Hemisphere, which focused specifically on renewed U.S. hemispheric domination. And at a February virtual forum titled What Greenlanders and Everyone in the United States Should Know About Being a U.S. Territory hosted by Right to Democracy, an anti-colonial advocacy organization, the image and the new U.S. expansionist doctrine prompted a probing discussion about sovereignty, expansion, and what territorial status actually means in practice.
Since 1960, when the United Nations adopted Resolution 1514, the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples, decolonization has been recognized as a fundamental human right. The United Nations maintains a list of 17 Non-Self-Governing Territories whose political status remains unresolved. These territories, located primarily in the Caribbean and the Pacific, have a combined population of just under two million. Although the United Nations removed Puerto Rico from that list in 1953 and does not officially classify it as a Non-Self-Governing Territory, the U.N. Special Committee on Decolonization continues to pass resolutions calling for Puerto Rico’s self-determination and independence.
The United States has five permanently settled territories: American Samoa, Guam, the Northern Mariana Islands, Puerto Rico, and the U.S. Virgin Islands. Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands provide a clear lens on how U.S. territorial governance constrains self-determination. Despite more than a century under U.S. sovereignty, residents of Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, Guam, American Samoa, and the Northern Mariana Islands remain without full voting representation in Congress and cannot vote for president.
It was noted at the Right to Democracy discussion that Trump’s description of the United States as a “growing nation” echoes the era of President William McKinley, when the country expanded following the Spanish-American War.
And as noted at the GEM FM forum, the United States purchased the former Danish West Indies in 1917 for $25 million in gold, more than what had been paid for Alaska, the Louisiana Purchase, and Florida at the time of those respective acquisitions. The transfer included St. Thomas, St. John, and St. Croix, and residents were not consulted. The acquisition was driven by wartime security concerns, ostensibly the protection of Caribbean shipping routes and the Panama Canal. St. Thomas, with its deep-water harbor, was viewed as strategically valuable. Interestingly, during the 1916 treaty negotiations, U.S. officials also pledged not to object to Denmark extending its interests over all of Greenland. This is another reminder of how colonial transactions historically proceeded without the consent of those most affected.
This logic of land and strategic value over people was also evident in 1983 following the U.S. invasion and occupation of Grenada. The then-U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz callously described Grenada as a “lovely piece of real estate” enroute from a quick visit in February 1984. The remark reflected a worldview in which territory is first assessed for its strategic and economic value. It underscored a recurring pattern in U.S. territorial calculations, where geopolitical and profit considerations often appear to take precedence over the sovereignty and lived realities of local populations.
Today, Virgin Islanders and Puerto Ricans are U.S. citizens but cannot vote for president and have only a non-voting delegate in Congress. Federal law applies fully, and Congress retains plenary authority under the Territorial Clause. Fiscal oversight, shipping regulations, and federal land control remain largely outside local democratic control.
The case of Little Saint James, formerly owned by Jeffrey Epstein, underscores other dimensions of consent and territorial status, beyond Epstein’s debauchery. Although geographically part of the Virgin Islands, the island operated under federal jurisdiction in ways that highlighted the limits of local authority. Federal criminal law applied, yet key investigative and prosecutorial decisions were made in Washington. The episode exposed how territorial governments can be structurally subordinate while still bearing the reputational and social consequences of federal oversight failures.
Puerto Rico, home to more than three million people, faces parallel constraints. Residents are U.S. citizens but cannot vote in presidential elections and lack voting representation in Congress. Congress retains ultimate authority over the island’s political status. Multiple plebiscites have been held, but none are binding on Congress. The federally imposed Financial Oversight and Management Board demonstrated how fiscal sovereignty can be overridden during times of crisis.
The pattern is consistent across the Caribbean territories. Residents do not have voting representation in Congress and cannot vote for president, yet Congress exercises plenary power over local governance. Strategic military and economic considerations have historically shaped policy decisions, and there is no guaranteed unilateral pathway to independence.
Ironically, Greenland retains formal autonomy within Denmark and maintains a defined legal pathway to independence. Caribbean territories do not possess an equivalent mechanism. For island communities such as St. Thomas and Puerto Rico, territorial status has meant citizenship without full political representation and taxation without full representation.
Greenland’s current status offers a sharp contrast. As an autonomous territory within the Kingdom of Denmark, Greenland elects its own parliament and sends representatives to the Danish Parliament, where its votes can help determine the Danish prime minister. Greenland retains full control over its mineral resources, receives roughly $10,000 per resident annually in Danish subsidies, and has an explicit legal right to hold a referendum on independence at any time.
From the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean and conversations about the Arctic, the so-called Trump Corollary is raising enduring questions, as evident in both the GEM FM and Right to Democracy forums. Can a nation that claims to be committed to democracy reconcile itself with the continued governance of territories whose voices remain structurally constrained? From a decolonial standpoint, what material benefits, if any, does U.S. territorial status provide? More importantly, do those benefits compensate for diminished sovereignty and democratic deficits?
Grenada and other Caribbean and Pacific island countries can confidently boast that their natural beauty and resilient history sell themselves. The product does not require exaggeration because the reality speaks plainly. As evident from these conversations, it is doubtful that the same can be said about the promise of U.S. territorial rule. Washington promotes citizenship, federal funding, and security as evidence of imperial inclusion. Yet when those claims are closely examined, they are undermined by the realities of limited voting rights, congressional plenary power, and the absence of full self-determination. The promise suggests equality, but the structure reveals inequality and hierarchy. When the advertisement highlights democracy but the fine print confirms political subordination, the message begins to unravel. Under scrutiny, the sales pitch for U.S. colonial governance looks less like an invitation and more like a contradiction.
One unintended consequence of President Trump’s aggressive focus on Greenland and other countries in the hemisphere may be a renewed examination of U.S. colonial history and the lived realities of those already subjected to U.S. territorial rule. In fact, the administration’s expansionist rhetoric may ultimately produce the opposite of its intended effect by prompting deeper scrutiny rather than broader acceptance.
Martin P Felix is an educator and Caribbean activist based in New York.