And to prove it, his antithesis, Orange Man, is back in the White House
In Davos, Switzerland, big shots are gathering right now for the annual meeting of the World Economic Forum (WEF). For decades is has positioned itself as a beacon of global collaboration, where business leaders, policymakers, and intellectuals convene to tackle the world’s most pressing issues. “Davos Man” was something of a caricature, but also no doubt a status.
This same week, in Washington, Donald Trump was being re-inaugurated. He immediately set about issuing executive orders that should cause Davos Man to choke on his champagne: He pulled the US out of the Paris Climate Agreement and the WHO, gutted federal diversity and inclusion programs, and in general commenced a policy agenda that represents a full-throated rejection of international cooperation, inclusivity, and the very ethos of Davos.
Quite a juxtaposition: Orange Man is the absolute antithesis of Davos Man, indeed the nemesis. And he’s not there by coincidence. The Davos agenda is being rejected by electorates all over the world, and that’s no coincidence either.
My first Davos in 2006 was a whirlwind where I was pleased to be part of an event whose themes have included “Shaping a Global Architecture” or “Creating a Shared Future.” Amid the parties, panels, and slippery icy streets, I found myself rubbing shoulders with luminaries like Elie Wiesel and Bono, with Tony Blair and Jacob Zuma, with Peter Gabriel, Arianna Huffington, Christine Lagarde, Marissa Meyer and Bill Gates. I recall the sense of optimism that pervaded those meetings. Also the ego trip.

This fascinating boondoggle, which launched in 1971, is based on the proposition that the right mix of ideas, people, and resources could change the world. Yet as the past half-century has unfolded, the gap between Davos’s ambitions and its tangible outcomes has become glaringly apparent.
Nowhere is this dissonance clearer than in the story of globalization and its unintended consequences.
Globalization was not just an idea supported by Davos; it was its raison d’être. The global interconnectedness of markets, production, and capital was seen as an unalloyed good. It would lift billions out of poverty, spread prosperity, and foster global cooperation. And to an extent, it did. But Davos, and the elite consensus it represented, failed miserably to anticipate the backlash.
For decades, globalization hollowed out industries and communities in the West. Manufacturing jobs migrated to lower-cost countries, leaving behind ghost towns and economic despair. The promises of retraining and new opportunities never fully materialized for displaced workers. Meanwhile, the wealth generated by globalization flowed overwhelmingly to the top, exacerbating inequality. This economic displacement bred resentment and disillusionment, creating fertile ground for the rise of right-wing populism.
When proponents of Brexit declared that “the people have had enough of experts,” they referred, basically, to Davos Man. The people — many of them at least, and probably most — want jobs and security, and for Britain to stay Britain.
Donald Trump’s presidency is the embodiment of this backlash. Trump’s disdain for global cooperation and his preference for unilateralism reflect the very anti-globalist sentiments Davos failed to foresee. Moreover, his domestic policies, like efforts to dismantle the Department of Education and FEMA, reveal a broader disdain for governance—another pillar of the Davos ethos. The irony is that the Davos crowd, in championing globalization without adequately addressing its discontents, essentially created the conditions for its greatest political adversary.
Other calamities further highlight Davos’s blind spots. Social media, which Davos often championed under the banner of “Globalization 4.0” and the “Fourth Industrial Revolution,” has scrambled societal coherence. Algorithms designed for profit have amplified polarization, misinformation, and radicalization, eroding trust in institutions and shared truths.
The related death of newspapers, emblematic of the broader collapse of traditional media, is another crisis Davos failed to address. The rise of tech monopolies and the erosion of investigative journalism have left the public vulnerable to misinformation. Davos, with its concentration of media moguls and tech leaders, was well-positioned to foresee and mitigate this crisis but largely stood by as trust in media eroded.
Climate change and biodiversity loss — addressed at Davos meetings with themes like “Creating a Shared Future” — remain unmitigated. Initiatives like the Trillion Tree Campaign have been symbolic but insufficient. Emissions continue to rise, ecosystems collapse, and the existential threat looms larger each year. Despite its rhetoric, Davos has failed to galvanize the collective action needed to address these crises (to say the least).
The rise of authoritarianism is another case. Leaders like Vladimir Putin and Xi Jinping have used globalization to consolidate power while undermining liberal democracy. Davos themes like “Responsive and Responsible Leadership” (2017) ring hollow considering the engagement with authoritarian figures which has often lent legitimacy to their regimes. This year, attendees got to hear Iran’s uber-propagandist, VP Javad Zarif, interviewed on stage and declaring that Iran is not pursuing and bomb and threatens – which is absolutely absurd yet was unchallenged.
Failed states like Syria, Yemen, and Somalia have long been discussed in Davos circles, but the outcomes are sobering. These countries remain mired in conflict, displacement, and humanitarian crises, with no clear path to stability. Nuclear proliferation in Iran and North Korea, despite years of sanctions and diplomacy, remains unresolved.
Meanwhile, liberal democracy itself has weakened, with ordinary people increasingly disillusioned by its inability to deliver economic or social justice.
The gig economy, celebrated as a hallmark of “Globalization 4.0,” has introduced job flexibility but also rampant insecurity. Millions now work without benefits, protections, or career progression, contributing to economic precarity. Wealth concentration has only worsened, with billionaires amassing unprecedented fortunes while middle and working-class wages stagnate. These are precisely the kinds of systemic challenges that Davos purports to address, yet they continue to deepen.
Even within its own sphere of influence, Davos’s tangible outcomes have been underwhelming. Initiatives like the Coalition for Epidemic Preparedness Innovations (CEPI) demonstrate some capacity for action, but they fall short of addressing root causes. CEPI’s contributions during the COVID-19 pandemic, while valuable, were overshadowed by vaccine inequities and nationalistic responses that exposed the fragility of international cooperation. Fifty-four years after these meetings started we live in a fractured world badly devoid of the shared future Davos aspired to help create.
What next? Well, the WEF puts out all kinds of papers and has a good website. But the bigger picture is that Davos can continue to be a talking shop for the global elite, or it can confront the hard truths of its own failures and recalibrate its approach. This would require humility, a willingness to listen to those outside its bubble, and a genuine commitment to addressing systemic inequalities long ignored. I have seen Davos Man — heck, I have been him — and this would require some adjustments.
At some meetings I attended, it seemed like solutions were within reach. I recall one dinner where attendees were tasked with identifying humanity’s greatest need. The consensus: weaning the world off fossil fuels. Two Israelis, Shai Agassi and Shimon Peres, were so inspired that they right then and there collaborated on a plan for a new startup for electric cars. I knew and liked Agassi, our kids were in the same class at the same school, and at a Davos cafe corner I interviewed him for AP, the agency I was representing. The company he built, Better Place, raised billions and soon went out of business.
So, too, Davos Man has failed. I think he knows it. He dutifully drags himself to the snowy maintain each January nonetheless, because it is self-important fun that’s still good for the brand. But let’s call a spade a spade.

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