Greenlandic Children Need Justice

Broken Bonds: The Fight for Greenland’s Stolen Children in Denmark

Hospital staff allowed Keira exactly one hundred and twenty minutes with her newborn daughter. The clock on the wall became her enemy the moment the child arrived last November. She counted every second. Her eyes traced the features of the infant she named Zammi. She knew the separation approached. Officials entered the room to claim the baby. Keira wept without restraint. She whispered desperate apologies to the confused infant. The mother felt her soul shatter. This scene plays out frequently in Danish hospitals. Keira belongs to a growing group of Greenlandic parents residing in Denmark who face the state seizure of their children. Authorities remove these minors after the parents undergo competency exams. Denmark calls these evaluations FKUs. The state uses them to determine if adults possess the fitness to raise a family.

A Controversial Testing Method

Social services deploy the FKU assessment in complex welfare cases. They use it when they suspect a child faces neglect or significant harm. The process consumes months. It involves interviews with parents and their offspring. Psychologists administer cognitive tasks. One common test requires the parent to recall a sequence of numbers in reverse order. Other sections involve general knowledge quizzes. Examiners also conduct personality and emotional screenings. Defenders of the method claim it provides objective data. They argue it surpasses the anecdotal evidence social workers gather. Critics strongly disagree. They insist the results fail to predict parenting ability. The questions often baffle the participants. Keira faced queries about Mother Teresa. Examiners asked her to calculate the time solar rays take to reach Earth. These questions allegedly measure a parent's understanding of societal concepts.

Cultural Barriers and Misunderstandings

Opponents argue the tests reflect Danish cultural norms exclusively. Administrators conduct the sessions in Danish. Most Greenlanders speak Kalaallisut as their mother tongue. This language gap creates dangerous misunderstandings. Keira failed a section involving a doll. The psychologist criticised her for making insufficient eye contact with the toy. Keira questioned the purpose of this exercise. The professional reportedly stated it measured her level of civilisation. This comment reveals the deep cultural bias embedded in the system. Greenlandic culture communicates differently. Silence and averted gaze often signify respect, not disinterest. The Danish system interprets these traits as deficits. Testers labelled Johanne, another mother, as "narcissistic" and "mentally retarded" in 2019. She rejected these descriptions entirely. The psychologist based these terms on outdated WHO categories.

The Disproportionate Statistics

Data reveals a stark reality. The Danish Centre for Social Research funds studies on this issue. Their findings are alarming. Authorities in Denmark remove Greenlandic children at a rate 5.6 times higher than Danish children. Thousands of Greenlanders live on the Danish mainland. They move there for employment, education, and healthcare. They hold Danish citizenship. This status allows them to live and work freely within the kingdom. Yet the welfare system targets them aggressively. Low scores on the FKU test almost always lead to removal. Former administrator Isak Nellemann admits the tests carry immense weight. He estimates that parents lose custody in ninety percent of cases where they score poorly. He argues the tests lack scientific validity for predicting parenting skills. They measure personality traits instead.

Historical Echoes of Colonial Control

The current crisis does not exist in a vacuum. It stems from a long history of Danish intervention in Greenlandic family life. The "Little Danes" experiment of 1951 stands as a dark precursor. Denmark removed twenty-two Inuit children from their families. The state sent them to Denmark to learn the language and culture. Officials promised the parents a better future for their offspring. The children returned to Greenland years later but could no longer speak their native tongue. They lived in an orphanage, alienated from their own kin. This social engineering left deep scars. It established a pattern of the state deciding what is best for Greenlandic children. The recent "Spiral Campaign" scandal further eroded trust. Danish doctors inserted intrauterine devices into thousands of Greenlandic women and girls without consent between the 1960s and 1990s.

The Spiral Campaign Legacy

This forced contraception campaign targeted nearly half of the fertile female population in Greenland. Doctors fitted girls as young as twelve with the coils. Many women discovered the devices only decades later. The campaign aimed to limit the growth of the Inuit population. It violated bodily autonomy on a massive scale. The Danish government finally apologised for this atrocity in September 2025. Prime Minister Mette Frederiksen travelled to Nuuk to deliver the apology. She admitted the state failed these women. However, the apology rings hollow for many. The current practice of removing children feels like a continuation of these colonial policies. The methods have changed, but the result remains the same. The state breaks Greenlandic families apart.

Legal Limbo and Indigenous Rights

Greenlanders occupy a unique legal position in Denmark. They are citizens of the realm. This grants them equal rights on paper. However, they lack specific legal protections as an indigenous minority within Denmark proper. The system treats them as standard Danish citizens. It fails to account for their distinct cultural and linguistic needs. Human rights lawyers argue this approach causes harm. Jeanette Gjørret represents several families fighting for their children. She hopes to take these cases to the European Court of Human Rights. She argues the Danish system violates the right to family life. The banning of the FKU test for Greenlanders in May 2025 marked a significant legal victory. The government finally acknowledged the bias inherent in the exams. However, this ban came too late for many.

The Adoption Trap

The government promised to review approximately three hundred past cases. This review covers files involving the controversial FKU tests. However, a major loophole exists. The state refuses to reopen cases where adoption has already occurred. This policy devastates parents like Johanne and Ulrik. Authorities took their son in 2019. The boy entered the adoption system in 2020. The couple legally lost all rights to him. Johanne remembers her son's birth vividly. He arrived prematurely on Boxing Day. Social workers were on holiday. This staffing shortage gave the couple seventeen precious days with their baby. Ulrik cherishes those memories. He recalls changing nappies and holding his son. Then the authorities arrived. Police officers stood by as social workers took the infant. Johanne begged to breastfeed him one last time. The system denied her plea.

A One-Sided Review Process

The government review moves at a glacial pace. The BBC found that officials had reviewed only ten cases by October. No children returned home as a result. The criteria for return remain strict. The local authority must admit to errors. They rarely do so. The Social Affairs Minister, Sophie Hæstorp Andersen, defends the process. She claims the review is thorough. She insists the government must prioritise the child's stability. Reopening adoption cases would disrupt the children's lives. The minister argues these children now live in loving families. This stance prioritises the adoptive family's stability over the biological family's justice. The parents view it as a final betrayal. They feel the state stole their children and now refuses to return them under the guise of welfare.

Psychological Defence of the System

Current administrators continue to defend the testing protocols. Turi Frederiksen leads a team of psychologists who conduct these assessments. She admits the tools are imperfect. Yet she insists they offer valuable psychological insights. She denies any bias against Greenlanders. She argues the tests protect children from incompetent parenting. The system relies on the concept of the "civilised" parent. This definition aligns strictly with Danish middle-class norms. It penalises those who deviate. A Rorschach test question illustrates this divide clearly. Johanne looked at an inkblot image. She described a woman gutting a seal. This activity is a staple of daily life in Greenland. The psychologist labelled her a "barbarian" for this answer. The report cited this as evidence of a concerning lifestyle.

The Rare Success Story

Hope remains elusive but not impossible. Pilunnguaq defied the odds. Authorities returned her six-year-old daughter recently. The mother received the news via a sudden phone call. She laughed and cried simultaneously. The reality of the reunion shocked her. Social services had taken all three of her children in 2021. Pilunnguaq had initially sought temporary help. She needed time to find suitable housing. The local authority turned this request into a permanent removal. They subjected her to a parenting assessment. The report claimed she entered dysfunctional relationships. It deemed her unfit. Pilunnguaq spent four years fighting this label. The local council finally reversed its decision. This move happened independently of the government review.

Rebuilding Broken Connections

Reunion brings its own challenges. Pilunnguaq works hard to rebuild the bond with her daughter. The separation left deep psychological wounds. The six-year-old suffers from separation anxiety. She panics if her mother closes the bathroom door. She fears her mother has vanished again. Pilunnguaq lives in constant terror. She knows the system retains the power to intervene. She worries they could take her daughter away in an hour. This fear permeates the lives of all affected families. Even those who regain custody never truly relax. They live under the shadow of the state. The trauma of the initial removal lingers. It affects the children's development and the parents' mental health.

The Official Position on Child Welfare

The Danish government maintains that every decision strictly prioritises the immediate safety and long-term well-being of the minor involved above all other considerations. Social Affairs Minister Sophie Hæstorp Andersen emphasises that authorities never remove a child from a home lightly or without significant evidence of risk. She explains that the process involves a comprehensive evaluation of the family's ability to provide care not just for a year, but for the child's entire upbringing. The minister acknowledges the pain involved but asserts that the rights of the child to a stable and secure environment must supersede the desires of the biological parents. This philosophy guides the refusal to overturn completed adoptions, as officials believe disrupting a settled placement causes further emotional damage.

The Cultural Void

Children in care often lose their connection to Greenland. Foster families rarely speak Kalaallisut. The children forget their mother tongue. They lose touch with their heritage. Keira tries to bridge this gap during her visits. She sees Zammi for one hour each week. She brings traditional food to these meetings. She prepares soup with chicken hearts. She wants Zammi to taste her culture. Keira builds a Greenlandic sleigh for her daughter. She carves it from wood by hand. She draws a polar bear on the front. These objects serve as anchors. They remind the child of a world she is forbidden to inhabit. The system strips away their identity. It turns them into Danes. This assimilation echoes the policies of the past.

The Lawyer's Perspective

Legal experts criticise the structural bias. They point out that the tests measure "danishness" rather than parenting skills. A parent who navigates the Danish school system well scores high. A parent who relies on extended family networks scores low. Greenlandic child-rearing often involves the community. The nuclear family model is less rigid. The Danish system views this fluidity as instability. Lawyers argue the state fails to accommodate these differences. The ban on FKU tests for Greenlanders validates these arguments. It proves the previous assessments were flawed. Yet the state refuses to apply this logic retroactively to all cases. This inconsistency fuels the legal battles. Families demand a complete reassessment of every removal based on the flawed tests.

The Emotional Toll on Fathers

Fathers also suffer deeply in this crisis. Ulrik speaks of his grief with raw honesty. He calls the seventeen days with his son the happiest of his life. He embraced the role of fatherhood. The removal shattered his world. He watched strangers take his child. He felt powerless. The system often marginalises fathers in these assessments. It focuses heavily on the mother's bond. Yet the loss impacts the entire family unit. Grandparents lose contact with their grandchildren. Siblings suffer separation. Keira's older children entered care in 2014. Her eldest daughter, Zoe, returned home only after turning eighteen. She now lives independently. She visits her mother regularly. This proves the bond survived the separation. It gives Keira hope for Zammi.

The Role of Schools and Hospitals

Institutions play a key role in flagging families. Schools and hospitals often report the initial concerns. Tordis Jacobsen leads a social work team in Aalborg. She notes that safeguarding alerts often originate from these sources. Staff may misinterpret cultural behaviours as signs of neglect. A child who is quiet in class might be viewed as developmentally delayed. A parent who questions medical advice might be seen as difficult. These reports trigger the assessment process. Once the machine starts, it is hard to stop. The FKU test becomes the deciding factor. The ban aims to stop this pipeline. It forces municipalities to find new ways to assess safety. They must now use culturally sensitive methods.

The Future of the Fight

Keira refuses to surrender. She keeps a cot next to her bed. She maintains another in the living room. Framed photos of Zammi cover the walls. Baby clothes and nappies wait for a child who is not there. Keira prepares for Zammi's first birthday in absentia. The authorities told her recently that Zammi will not return for now. This news devastated her. Yet she persists. She views her struggle as a fight for the future. She wants to spare her children from fighting this battle themselves. The community rallies around these mothers. Protests occurred in Nuuk and Copenhagen following recent removals. The Greenlandic government applies pressure on Denmark. They demand respect for their citizens' rights.

The Trust Deficit

The relationship between Greenland and Denmark remains fragile. The historical grievances run deep. The forced adoptions add a new layer of pain. The apologies for past crimes mean little while current crimes continue. Trust requires action. It requires the return of the children. It requires a system that respects Inuit culture. The Danish government faces a difficult task. It must balance child protection with cultural rights. It must dismantle the systemic racism within its welfare institutions. This process will take years. Meanwhile, children grow up away from their families. Parents miss milestones they can never recover. Johanne missed her son's first steps. She missed his first word. She missed his first day of school. These moments are gone forever.

A Call for Justice

The families demand more than just a review. They demand a fundamental change. They want the right to raise their children as Greenlanders. They want the system to value their culture. They want an end to the fear. The "one hour" rule for removals must end. The reliance on biased psychological testing must cease completely. The legal battles will continue in the courts. The emotional battles will continue in the homes. Keira, Johanne, Pilunnguaq, and countless others stand at the forefront. They fight a powerful state machinery. They fight with the love of their children as their weapon. They will not stop until the system changes. They will not stop until their families are whole again. The wooden sleigh sits waiting in Keira's home. It symbolises a journey that is far from over. It waits for the snow. It waits for Zammi.