Davos. The very word evokes a Pavlovian response in the world’s most self-important grifters, a high-altitude circle jerk where the 'global elite' gather to solve the world’s problems over three-hundred-dollar bowls of birchermuesli. This year, the Swiss ski resort plays host to the UK’s latest custodian of managed decline, Rachel Reeves. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, a woman whose public persona has all the warmth of a morgue freezer, has decided that the best way to ‘fuel growth’ in the crumbling remains of the British Isles is to tuck the banking sector into a warm bed and read them bedtime stories about deregulation.

It is a truly breathtaking display of intellectual bankruptcy. For years, the Labour Party performed a wearying dance of righteous indignation, pointing fingers at the ‘casino capitalism’ that turned the global economy into a smoldering crater in 2008. But power has a funny way of clarifying one’s priorities, which usually involve making sure the people who hold the purse strings are happy enough to keep the charade going. Reeves has transitioned from the ‘Iron Chancellor’ to the ‘Marshmallow Chancellor’ with a speed that would make a Olympic slalom skier dizzy. While the British public is told to tighten its collective belt until their spines snap, the City of London is being offered a metaphorical foot massage.

The centerpiece of this sycophancy was the November 26th budget, a document that will be remembered as a love letter to the very entities that treat the national economy like a disposable poker chip. Despite the glaringly obvious opportunity to implement a windfall tax on banks—entities that have been gorging themselves on high interest rates like ticks on a lethargic dog—Reeves opted for a strategic retreat. It was a masterclass in performative cowardice. By sparing the City from the fiscal rod, she has signaled that the ‘party of the working man’ is, in fact, just another subsidiary of the global financial services industry. The argument that this cosseting is necessary for ‘growth’ is the ultimate neoliberal fairy tale, a tired script that insists if we just let the bankers keep enough of their hoard, a few copper coins might eventually trickle down onto the heads of the peasantry.

But wait, the absurdity deepens. Not content with merely sparing the banks’ profits, the UK’s regulators have recently loosened capital rules for the first time since the Great Recession. It is the regulatory equivalent of handing a pyromaniac a fresh pack of matches and a gallon of kerosene because ‘it’s been a few years since the last major forest fire.’ These rules were put in place to ensure that when the next inevitable bubble bursts, the taxpayer isn’t immediately liquidated to cover the gambling debts of a man named Barnaby in a pinstripe suit. By unraveling these protections, Reeves and her cohort are essentially betting the house on the idea that bankers have suddenly developed a moral compass. It is a bet that has never, in the history of human greed, paid off.

The irony of Reeves flying into Davos to mix with this crowd is almost too heavy to bear. Davos is the epicenter of ‘performative concern,’ where billionaires discuss climate change before boarding their private jets and hedge fund managers talk about ‘equity’ while lobbying for tax loopholes. For a British Chancellor to fly into this den of inequity and offer anything less than a cold, clinical shoulder is an admission of defeat. The suggestion that she should treat the ‘finance bros’ with a certain froideur is polite code for saying she should stop being their doormat. But she won’t. To do so would require a level of conviction that is currently extinct in modern politics.

The Right, of course, will claim she hasn’t gone far enough, weeping that any regulation at all is a form of Stalinism that stifles the ‘animal spirits’ of the market. The Left will issue a few sternly worded tweets before returning to their own brand of pointless identity theater. Meanwhile, the reality remains: UK plc is being served up on a silver platter to a group of people who would sell their own mothers for a basis point increase in quarterly yields. Reeves’ presence at Davos isn’t about leading; it’s about auditioning for a seat at the table once her stint in government is over.

Ultimately, the 'growth' Reeves seeks is a phantom. You cannot build a sustainable economy on the whims of a sector that produces nothing of value, but merely shuffles debt around until it magically looks like wealth. By the time Davos 2026 rolls around, the promises made in the Swiss snow will have melted, leaving behind nothing but the same cold, hard reality for the people who actually have to live in the country Reeves is currently selling off piece by piece. It is a cycle of stupidity that would be tragic if it weren't so predictably boring. We are watching a slow-motion car crash, and the Chancellor is busy asking the driver if he’d like a glass of champagne before the impact.