Welcome to Davos, that annually occurring high-altitude ritual where the world’s most successful parasites congregate to discuss the preservation of the host. This week, the Swiss Alps are once again infested with the 'Global Elite'—a term that essentially describes people who fly private jets to seminars on carbon footprints and lecture the rest of us on 'stakeholder capitalism' while hiding their assets in offshore accounts that make the Cayman Islands look like a transparent piggy bank. Leading the parade of the grotesque is none other than the American President, a man whose presence in the Alps is about as subtle as a neon sign in a monastery. Trump’s arrival has sent the European press into a paroxysm of cartoonish frenzy, as if the tension between a populist billionaire and a collection of globalist billionaires is anything more than a disagreement over which brand of polish to use on the boots currently stepping on the neck of the working class.

The cartoonists are having a field day, sketching the 'friction' between the U.S. and Europe. It’s a laughable premise. The only real friction is the sound of these people rubbing their hands together in anticipation of the next deregulation cycle. The Europeans, led by the usual suspects of moralizing bureaucrats, love to pretend they are the enlightened opposition to the American ‘bull in the china shop.’ In reality, they are just the shopkeepers trying to ensure the bull doesn’t break anything they haven’t already insured for twice its value. Trump represents the naked, unwashed id of capitalism; the Davos crowd represents the same system but with better tailoring and a more sophisticated vocabulary for exploitation. They loathe him not because of his policies—which benefit their bottom lines immensely—but because he says the quiet parts out loud, ruining the carefully curated illusion that global finance is a humanitarian effort.

While these self-appointed masters of the universe clink crystal glasses and congratulate themselves on 'shaping the global agenda,' the real world—that messy place they only view through the tinted windows of armored SUVs—is behaving as predictably as ever. In East Jerusalem, the Israeli government has helpfully provided a live demonstration of 'diplomatic progress' by demolishing a United Nations agency for Palestinian refugees compound. It is a masterstroke of irony: while the UN bureaucrats in Davos probably use their lunch breaks to draft a strongly worded memo about ‘regional stability,’ the physical infrastructure of their own agency is being reduced to rubble. It’s the perfect metaphor for the modern international order: a massive, expensive, and utterly useless debating club that can’t even protect its own stationery from a bulldozer. The Davos attendees won't care, of course. Misery in the Levant doesn’t negatively impact the price of a Swiss ski pass, so it’s relegated to the 'unfortunate but inevitable' pile of history.

Meanwhile, the Moroccan press is currently embroiled in a national psychodrama over the Africa Cup of Nations. It’s the ultimate sedative. While the global economy is being carved up by the vultures in Switzerland, the masses are encouraged to lose their minds over eleven men failing to kick a ball into a net. It is the 'Bread and Circuses' model, though these days the bread is increasingly expensive and the circus is broadcast in 4K. The distraction works perfectly. Why worry about the fact that your future has been sold to a sovereign wealth fund when you can argue about a referee’s decision in a football match? The Moroccan papers are doing their part to ensure the populace remains fixated on the grass while the sky is falling.

And then, as if to prove that the media believes we all have the intellectual capacity of a goldfish, we are presented with the saga of the heartbroken swans finding love again. This is the journalistic equivalent of a jingle bell tied to a corpse. We are supposed to find solace in the romantic resilience of waterfowl while the world burns. It’s a pathetic attempt to provide 'balance'—a dash of saccharine to mask the bitter taste of a planet being hollowed out by the very people currently eating $500 hors d'oeuvres in Davos. The swans found love; the UN is being demolished; the billionaires are networking; and the rest of us are expected to watch the cartoons and feel informed. It’s not just a circus; it’s a funeral where the guests are looting the casket while the band plays a jaunty tune about avian romance. If this is the best humanity can offer, perhaps the bulldozers should start with the hotels in Switzerland next.