From time to time, powerful states reveal how they see the world not through policy papers, but through passing remarks. Recent debate over Greenland’s strategic importance and the current discussions underway by the U.S government to ‘buy’ Greenland, particularly in the context of Arctic security and global competition, have prompted renewed debate about how nations justify influence over territory that lies beyond their borders. While the circumstances are modern, the logic being used is anything but new.

History offers numerous examples of expansion framed not as conquest, but as necessity. In the British Isles, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland were repeatedly drawn into English control through arguments rooted in national security. Borders were described as unstable, neighbouring rulers as unreliable, and local autonomy as a risk rather than a right. Control was presented as protection, and domination as order.

The Celtic Nations and Security-Driven Expansion

Wales provides one of the clearest early examples: English kings framed intervention as a way to secure the western frontier, though it also led to lasting control over governance.

Wales illustrates how security concerns were used to justify long-term control. During the medieval period, English rulers saw the fragmented Welsh principalities as a potential threat to the stability of the realm. Intervention was framed as protection, not conquest.

In the late 13th century, Edward I launched campaigns that brought much of Wales under direct English rule. Castles and administrative structures established English authority, gradually replacing local governance. Despite this, resistance continued, most famously under Owain Glyndŵr in the early 15th century, preserving Welsh identity and asserting autonomy within the limits imposed by occupation.

The Welsh experience shows a recurring pattern: actions framed as securing borders can evolve into permanent control, while local populations often retain cultural and political identity despite annexation. Wales is now a devolved power in the UK and retains some of its sovereignty but activists, particularly YesCymru, are still calling for total independence from England.

Scotland

Scotland’s experience followed a similar pattern, though through different means. English involvement was often triggered by perceived instability to the north. During the late 13th and early 14th centuries, English kings claimed overlordship, citing succession disputes and the perceived instability of the Scottish throne as reasons for involvement. This led to a series of conflicts known as the Wars of Scottish Independence, beginning with Edward I’s campaigns after the death of Alexander III and the disputed succession of 1290.

Edward I’s invasions and sieges, including the capture of Berwick and battles such as Falkirk in 1298, aimed to enforce English authority. Yet Scotland maintained a distinct political structure, and resistance leaders like William Wallace and Robert the Bruce successfully challenged English control, ultimately securing Scottish sovereignty after the Treaty of Edinburgh-Northampton in 1328.

Ireland

Ireland represents the longest and most sustained use of security as justification. Repeated English interventions were explained as responses to unrest or threats to stability. Over centuries, the line between defence and domination blurred entirely. English involvement began in the late 12th century, following the Norman invasion of Ireland in 1169, initially framed as a response to local disputes and instability. Over the following centuries, campaigns and settlements extended English influence across much of the island.

During the Elizabethan era, English involvement in Ireland intensified, framed as a response to unrest and the need to secure the western flank of the kingdom. Military campaigns, including the Nine Years’ War (1594–1603) led by Hugh O’Neill, sought to suppress resistance from Gaelic lords and enforce English authority. The eventual defeat of the Irish forces allowed England to consolidate control, introduce plantations, and extend its legal and administrative systems across much of the island.

Ireland above all demonstrates the long-term consequences of security-driven intervention: repeated justifications in the name of stability eventually created extensive control, yet local resistance and identity persisted through centuries of occupation.

A Familiar Logic in Modern Contexts

What links these histories to more recent cases, from Venezuela to discussions around Greenland, is not intent or outcome, but reasoning. Strategic importance, resource access, and geographic positioning are invoked to suggest that sovereignty is secondary to stability. Local populations are sometimes cited but have limited influence over the calculations of larger powers.

In modern contexts, this logic is often couched in the language of international security rather than empire. There are no banners or proclamations, only references to shipping lanes, military reach, and global competition. Yet the underlying assumption remains familiar: that powerful states have both the right and the responsibility to shape the fate of strategically valuable regions.

When Security Outlasts Consent

This does not mean history is repeating itself in any literal sense. International law, alliances, and democratic accountability impose real constraints. But history does show how easily the language of security can be used to soften the idea of control, and how often temporary measures become permanent arrangements.

For Wales and the other Celtic nations, the legacy of security-driven conquest is not abstract. It is embedded in political structures, cultural memory, and ongoing debates about autonomy and identity. Their histories serve as a reminder that when sovereignty is treated as negotiable in the name of stability, it is rarely fully restored.

The modern world rightly rejects the idea of conquest. Yet the arguments that once made conquest acceptable have proven remarkably durable. When strategic necessity is allowed to outweigh self-determination, the past has a way of quietly reasserting itself, not as history, but as policy.

pic . Greenland Fjords – Joe Plenio (Pixabay)