Three small states, big stakes: The strategically vital North Atlantic
Recognition becomes cooperation when people actually meet, host, sing and solve problems side by side,” says Jón Gnarr. “We should talk up our ties and turn them into things people can feel day to day.”
Gnarr, an Icelandic MP for Viðreisn and the new chair of the West Nordic Council, wants that sentiment to guide the year ahead. Founded in 1985 in Nuuk, the West Nordic Council is a cooperation forum that consists of 18 members from the parliaments of Iceland, Greenland and the Faroe Islands. Its job is to align policy and support practical projects in culture, education, the environment, Arctic affairs and regional connectivity. Less known than its larger Nordic Council sister, it is one of the oldest ongoing pan-Arctic cooperation mechanisms in the world.
Together the three countries are only home to roughly half a million people—about 390,000 in Iceland, 56,000 in Greenland and 54,000 in the Faroe Islands—but occupy a strategically important area with roughly 5.47 million km² combined jurisdiction, about two-thirds of the contiguous U.S.
Heading up the council is a role Gnarr cherishes, rooted in a personal fascination with the relationship between the three countries. As testament to those centuries-old ties, he brings a large black book to the interview that he is keen to showcase. Its title is Peasants & Prayers: The Inscriptions of Norse Greenland and it features illustrations of runic-inscribed items found in Greenland.
“I’m reading—actually finishing—this book, which catalogues all the objects found in Greenland that bear runic inscriptions,” he says. “It’s absolutely fascinating: crosses and images of Mary, remnants of tools and even toys, little figures fighting—mostly from the 11th to the 13th century.”
Indeed, Gnarr speaks at length and with much enthusiasm about the shared history of the three nations, which as he accurately, yet humorously, points out all ended up belonging to the Kingdom of Denmark following a Scandinavian divorce.
Shared history, shared interest
The three small North Atlantic states have a long, shared history closely tied to their shared geography. All three are ocean nations with long coasts, short peak seasons and weather that can shut plans down in an hour. Populations are small, distances long and the environment dynamic and unpredictable.
That “attention” includes Trump-era talk of effectively annexing Greenland. Gnarr won’t inflate the drama, but he won’t ignore it either.
“Trump knows how to make noise. Say something on his platform and it becomes a headline here in Iceland,” he says. “But the key is this: the future of Greenland is in the hands of the Greenlandic people.” He even shrugs at the spectacle: “Handing out caps in Nuuk? That’s not the end of the world.”
The region around the three Council member states has, since WWII, been a key strategic area and the GIUK remains a vital artery between Europe and North America. Currently the U.S. isn’t the only superpower with vested interest in the region.
“Of the great powers buzzing around us, I think the United States is the least bad option. I’d rather see them here than, say, the Russians. Russia and China don’t play by the rules we consider normal — democracy, freedom of expression, and so on,” he says.
Common cause in a complex world
Heading into his chairmanship, Gnarr wants to focus on things people can feel: security that works, services that travel and culture that builds trust. At the top of his list is cyber resilience and the subsea cables the region relies on.
“Our main emphasis now is security and defense—above all cyber security: our communications systems, especially subsea cables. We are countries completely dependent on a few long lifelines,” he says. “Break the wrong link and you feel it in hospitals, airports, exports. There, for instance, we Icelanders can help with technical solutions, as we are further along in digital matters.”
Collaboration, he argues, can foster resilience because the council offers a low-key venue to compare notes before politics takes over.
“We can compare standards, map the weak points and hand ministers concrete steps,” Gnarr says. “Do the boring work before the sirens.”
He also wants smoother cross-border care—shorter referral paths for rare procedures—and braided study tracks in nursing, marine engineering, language technology and digital skills. To foster a welcoming and innovative space.
“We can keep expertise in the region by making it easy to build here,” he says. “Give people reasons to stay.”
Culture, finally, is what makes the practical work stick. He frames it as “soft tissue” that strengthens trust: once people feel welcome, everything from landing rights to research cooperation gets easier. He points to small, durable bridges—music exchanges, chess projects and Kalak, the Iceland–Greenland Friendship Association.
With the world heating up and superpowers on the move, it seems vital for small states to form ranks. For Gnarr, the West Nordic Council is where kinship becomes capacity, where three neighbors who know each other well can move in step.
