by G H Kumar
The World Economic Forum in Davos has long served as a crucible for global elites, where business titans, politicians, and academics converge amid the Swiss Alps to dissect the planet's pressing dilemmas.
This year, however, the gathering took on an unusually sharp edge, dominated by fears of resurgent great power rivalry. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney emerged as the unexpected star, his rhetoric cutting through the usual platitudes with unapologetic clarity.
Carney's signature line—"If we’re not at the table, we’re on the menu"—resonated like a thunderclap in the packed congress hall. Delivered with the precision of a former Bank of England governor, it encapsulated the precarious position of smaller nations in a world reshaped by Donald Trump's aggressive return to the White House. Carney painted Trump’s approach as "smash and grab politics," a voracious drive to seize other countries’ wealth and land through tariffs, territorial posturing, and economic leverage.
"Call it what it is," Carney urged the delegates, his voice steady yet urgent. He described a "system of intensifying great power rivalry, where the most powerful pursue their interests using economic integration as coercion." No longer mere trade frictions, he argued, these dynamics threatened to dismantle decades of globalisation, turning supply chains into weapons and alliances into battle lines.
The applause that followed was thunderous—a rare standing ovation at Davos, where cynicism often reigns. Attended by thousands of business leaders, politicians, and academics, the annual meeting typically fixates on the global economy's health, from the climate crisis to yawning inequality. Yet this time, the shadow of Trump loomed largest, with sessions buzzing over his threats of 60 per cent tariffs on China and 20 per cent on everyone else.
Carney positioned Canada as a vanguard for "middle powers"—nations like Australia, Japan, the UK, and much of Europe—that lack the scale to dictate terms alone. "Band together or be crushed," he warned, advocating a coalition to counterbalance US dominance. His call echoed historical precedents, from the Non-Aligned Movement during the Cold War to recent AUKUS and Quad pacts in the Indo-Pacific.
From the gist of his Davos discourse, Carney has clearly classified India as one of the great powers. That said, we are not out of the woods yet—India must tread a path paved with thin ice.
Trump's centrepiece was his dramatic threat to impose tariffs on eight European nations—including the UK, France, and Germany—unless they supported his bid to seize Greenland. This bold ultimatum thrust dog-eat-dog geopolitics into the spotlight, eclipsing traditional Davos themes. European progressives, from London to Brussels, seized on Carney's words as a rallying cry for resistance.
European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen echoed the sentiment, urging the EU to break free from nostalgia for the old world order. She dismissed hopes of reversion to past dependencies, advocating for a “new independent Europe” through deepened financial and energy integration. New trading partnerships, she argued, offered a path to resilience amid seismic shifts.
French President Emmanuel Macron, despite an eye condition requiring aviator shades, struck a defiant tone. He declared the moment unfit for “new imperialism or new colonialism,” preferring “respect to bullies.” His words underscored a broader European pushback, though tempered by the realities of Trump's influence.
Anticipation peaked on Wednesday as Marine One touched down near the resort. Delegates jostled chaotically to enter the 5,000-seat congress hall for Trump's keynote. WEF staff wielded megaphones in vain, while CEOs and heads of state crammed lobbies and stairwells. Police ejected latecomers, heightening the frenzy.
BlackRock CEO Larry Fink, serving as interim WEF co-chair, introduced Trump to a packed auditorium. The president's speech rambled through invective and racism, including derogatory remarks labelling Somalian people as “low-IQ.” Relief rippled through the crowd when he backed away from military action on Greenland, but open dissent remained scarce.
Muttered dismay was the extent of audible criticism, even amid overt racism. Fear of retaliation—be it tariffs or leaked private exchanges—silenced most. The elite assembly prioritised self-preservation, revealing fractures in the forum's collaborative ethos.
Trump's presence transformed Davos into a spectacle. US firms like Google, Uber, Amazon, and others splashed vast sums to turn Promenade shops into lavish showrooms. A church opposite the congress centre became USA House, sponsored by McKinsey, Microsoft, and Ripple at up to $1 million each. Armed police and heavy weaponry underscored the heightened security.
Populist allies amplified the disruption. Argentina's Javier Milei hailed the US as a “beacon of light” for the West in a characteristically rambling address. Nigel Farage, long a WEF critic, revelled in the shift from climate and DEI discussions to hard-nosed politics. He framed Brexit and Trump's first term as harbingers of seismic change, not fleeting rage.
Senior politicians largely held their tongues, save for Carney, Macron, and von der Leyen. JP Morgan CEO Jamie Dimon skirted questions on Trump's policies, admitting only that US reliability had waned and ICE raids troubled him. Retribution followed swiftly: Trump sued Dimon and the bank personally for $5 billion, alleging “debanking.”
Tech titans trailed in Trump's wake. Elon Musk praised solar energy for AI datacentres while dodging Trump's “green scam” barbs. Figures like Apple's Tim Cook, Nvidia's Jensen Huang, and Uber's Dara Khosrowshahi stayed silent, even as Europe's potential “trade bazooka” loomed over their firms.
Ukraine's plight nearly vanished from the agenda until President Volodymyr Zelenskyy's late intervention. His fiery Thursday address accused European leaders of “Greenland mode”—passively awaiting rescue. He lamented a year of inaction since his prior Davos plea for self-defence.
Zelenskyy's frustration highlighted Europe's disunity. The European Parliament's vote to challenge the Mercosur trade deal in court threatened a two-year delay, undermining von der Leyen’s triumphant praise just a day earlier. Domestic woes—from Macron's no-confidence vote to Keir Starmer's polling slump—further distracted leaders.
Global institutions faltered as counterweights. News broke of a vague Trump-Rutte deal on Greenland amid evening revelries, details murky. The WEF schedule bent again for Trump's Gaza “board of peace” ceremony, parading 19 nations' politicians before another protracted speech on redevelopment plans.
Quiet diplomacy and market pressures may have averted force on Greenland. Yet Davos felt less like a forum “committed to improving the state of the world” and more like the Trump circus. Vital issues—climate, corruption, Ukraine—were side-lined by threats and intimidation.
François Valerian of Transparency International captured the dismay: this week discussed “everything but the essential.” Three years prior, climate, poverty, and hunger dominated; now, negotiation under duress prevailed. The forum's oxygen was consumed, leaving global challenges gasping.
G H Kumar writes on national security, military technology, strategic affairs & policies. This essay reflects author's opinions alone
