The Whiskey War (and Why the World Could Use More Wars Like It)
Some wars last years, flatten countries, and leave entire generations trying to remember what normal life used to feel like.
And then there was the Whiskey War.
Yes — a real territorial dispute between Canada and Denmark, carried out for decades with flags, polite notes, and strategically placed bottles of whisky and schnapps left on a windswept Arctic rock that even polar bears probably considered a disappointing travel destination. Eventually, the two countries did something that now feels almost radical: they talked, negotiated, and quietly split the island without threats, warships, or late-night all-caps declarations of national honor.
The story is so absurdly civilized that I ended up writing an essay about it — not just as a diplomatic curiosity, but as a sharp contrast to our current era, where international politics often sounds less like statecraft and more like a cross between playground bravado, reality television, and low-budget mob cinema.
The piece asks a simple question:
How did we go from wars fought with whisky to wars fought with tantrums?
The essay has just been published in two versions:
- English version (CounterPunch):
https://www.counterpunch.org/2026/01/25/the-whiskey-war-or-how-to-fight-over-land-like-a-civilized-mammal/ - Spanish version (Nueva Tribuna):
https://www.nuevatribuna.es/articulo/varios/whisky-schnapps-diplomacia-que-existe/20260130101850246534.html
Using the tiny, almost comically irrelevant Hans Island as a starting point, the article explores the growing gap between adult diplomacy — the kind that understands negotiation isn’t weakness — and the increasingly theatrical style of geopolitical chest-thumping that dominates headlines today. It’s also a reminder that the real issue is rarely just the loud personalities themselves; it’s the cultural climate that rewards outrage, elevates bluster, and treats compromise as surrender.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the Arctic, two countries resolved a territorial dispute with humor, patience, and reasonably well-selected alcohol. That may be one of the most quietly subversive political stories of our time.
If you’re in the mood for a short, sharp, slightly off-kilter reflection on diplomacy, absurd geopolitics, and the faint but persistent possibility that adults may still exist in international politics, take a look at the piece above.
See you out on the ice — where borders are negotiated, bottles are exchanged, and nobody needs to set anything on fire.
