The World Economic Forum opened this year the way it always should: with grown‑ups. Leaders from across the globe took the stage and did something radical, almost subversive in its simplicity — they spoke in complete sentences. They cited data. They acknowledged reality. They treated global crises like problems to solve rather than props for grievance‑theater.
Climate change wasn’t a hoax.
AI wasn’t a deep‑state plot.
Inflation wasn’t a conspiracy by grocery stores to hurt one man’s feelings.
It was… normal.
And the normalcy was deafening.
Speaker after speaker laid out the economic aftershocks of the last decade — supply chain fragility, geopolitical instability, the whiplash of tariff tantrums, and the lingering global distrust created by the United States’ sudden habit of electing chaos agents. They didn’t name Trump directly, because Davos is polite, but the subtext was so thick you could spread it on toast.
They talked about the need for cooperation. Predictability. Stability.
They talked about the importance of long‑term planning.
They talked about the damage caused by leaders who treat policy like improv comedy.
And the U.S. delegation — such as it is — sat there like the kid who knows the teacher is talking about him but can’t prove it.
The tone was unmistakable:
The world is moving forward. The U.S. is… pending.
Countries discussed new trade frameworks that don’t rely on American consistency.
They outlined climate agreements designed to survive even if the U.S. decides to take another four‑year sabbatical from reality.
They talked about AI governance, cybersecurity, and global health systems with the quiet, weary understanding that the U.S. may or may not show up, depending on whether the president is mad at a dishwasher that day.
It wasn’t hostile.
It was worse.
It was pragmatic.
Because while Trump was back home ranting in the White House press room like a man who lost an argument with his own teleprompter, the rest of the planet was making contingency plans — and they weren’t subtle about it.
Europe accelerated joint defense initiatives that don’t depend on American reliability.
Asia built trade corridors that bypass U.S. bottlenecks entirely.
Africa and South America formed new economic blocs with an energy that said, “We’re tired of waiting for the U.S. to stop electing raccoons with Wi‑Fi.”
Even Canada — the world’s polite older sibling — started using phrases like “strategic diversification,” which is diplomat‑speak for “we love you, but we’re not letting you drive anymore.”
This isn’t punishment.
It’s self‑preservation.
When a country elects a delusional, self‑interested leader whose primary policy goal is enriching himself and whoever flatters him loudest, the world takes notes. And then it takes action.
Davos made that clear:
The U.S. is still invited to the table, but the chairs have been rearranged.
We’re no longer at the head.
We’re not even in the middle.
We’re the unpredictable cousin who might flip the table if someone mentions wind turbines.
And the rest of the world?
They’re done waiting for us to grow up.
The adults arrived first.
They set the agenda.
They began the work.
Click on The Davos Delusion Cycle to read the 5 articles that follow this up.
Add comment
Comments