In the rarified, oxygen-deprived air of Davos, where the world’s most polished sociopaths gather to pretend they care about the planet they are actively dismantling, the annual pageant of vanity has reached its predictable, nauseating crescendo. This year, the festivities are punctuated by the return of a particular brand of American real-estate psychosis: the renewed demand to annex Greenland. It is a proposition so grotesquely archaic it feels less like 21st-century diplomacy and more like a drunken game of Risk played by a man who views the North Pole as a potential site for a gold-plated hotel with failing plumbing. Yet, in the gilded halls of the World Economic Forum, this isn’t treated as a lapse in sanity, but as a 'geopolitical shift' to be parsed by men in five-thousand-dollar suits.

Denmark, the polite, beige neighbor of the international community, has responded with the kind of cautious relief usually reserved for someone who realized the home intruder decided not to set the curtains on fire. They are ‘welcoming’ the fact that the United States has ruled out using force to seize their territory. Imagine the state of global affairs when the bar for 'good news' is simply the absence of an unprovoked invasion by your own ally. It is a testament to the absolute degradation of the so-called ‘rules-based order’ that the Danish government feels the need to publicly breathe a sigh of relief because they aren't currently being shelled by the world’s largest military. But, of course, the Danes aren’t stupid—well, not entirely. They caution that the 'challenge is still there.' The challenge, for the record, is existing while possessing resources that a larger, louder neighbor wants to monetize.

While the Danes are busy being relieved, the American delegation is performing a masterclass in casual cruelty. Scott Bessent, an advisor who embodies the cold, calculating heart of the American treasury, recently brushed off concerns about Danish investors pulling out of the US market with the kind of disdain usually reserved for a waiter who brought the wrong vintage of Bordeaux. He noted that Denmark’s $100 million investment in US Treasuries is 'irrelevant.' And here, in a rare moment of accidental honesty from a political operative, we find the core truth of the Davos universe: if you aren't big enough to tilt the scale, you do not exist. Denmark, in the eyes of the American empire, is not a sovereign nation with a rich history and a stable social democracy; it is a rounding error. It is a footnote in a spreadsheet, a tiny, shivering speck on a map that is only interesting if its ice sheet can be converted into strategic naval lanes and mineral extraction sites.

The 'Middle Powers' are reportedly assembling in the corners of Davos, whispering about 'new liberal alliances' to combat the 'Trump disorder.' It is a pathetic sight—a coalition of the beige, a support group for middle-managers of the world who still believe that if they just follow the ‘process’ and sign enough ‘frameworks,’ the schoolyard bully will stop taking their lunch money. These nations, from the EU to the Pacific, are scrambling to find a way to maintain the status quo in a world where the status quo has been dragged into the street and shot. They speak of 'liberal values' and 'multilateralism' as if these words were magical incantations that could ward off the blunt-force trauma of transactional politics. They are the nerds in the cafeteria trying to form a ‘no-wedgie’ committee while the bully is already standing behind them with a handful of their waistband.

The tragedy of this entire spectacle is not just the absurdity of the Greenland proposal—it is the fact that everyone in that room, from the protestors outside to the CEOs in the private suites, is participating in the same grand delusion. They believe that this system, this fragile web of debt and ego, can be managed, refined, or 'reimagined' through a series of panel discussions and white papers. Trump’s desire for Greenland is merely the most honest expression of the Davos spirit: the world is a thing to be bought, sold, or taken. The only difference is that Trump says it out loud, while the rest of them prefer to hide the transaction behind the language of 'strategic partnerships' and 'sustainable development.'

As the snow falls on the Swiss Alps, the reality remains unchanged. Denmark will continue to be 'cautious,' the US will continue to treat the globe like a bankrupt casino, and the 'middle powers' will continue to hold meetings that accomplish exactly nothing. We are witnessing the slow-motion collapse of a global order that was built on the lie that everyone’s sovereignty matters. Bessent was right about one thing: in this world, $100 million—and by extension, the autonomy of any nation that doesn't have the nuclear capacity to defend it—is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is the size of your leverage and the depth of your cynicism. Welcome to the future; it’s cold, it’s expensive, and it’s currently for sale to the highest bidder, provided they don't have to use force... for now.