There is something uniquely nauseating about the air in Davos. It isn’t just the altitude, which is thin enough to make even the most grounded individual hallucinate a world where capitalism is 'caring'; it’s the concentrated stench of thousands of self-important grifters gathering to solve the problems they spent the previous eleven months creating. Into this oxygen-deprived circus steps Emmanuel Macron, the man who would be Jupiter, draped in the sartorial equivalent of a cry for help: a pair of dark, reflective aviator sunglasses.

One must admire the sheer, unadulterated gall of it. While the world’s self-appointed 'stakeholders' gather to discuss the impending collapse of the biosphere and the widening chasm of global inequality, the President of France decided the most pressing issue was whether he could successfully cosplay as a mid-career Tom Cruise. It wasn’t a diplomatic gesture; it was a costume. These 'Top Gun' shades were less about protecting his eyes from the glare of the Swiss snow and more about protecting his ego from the glare of reality. He stood there, a banker-turned-monarch, lecturing the masses about Greenland and US policy, all while looking like he was waiting for a camera crew to start filming a high-budget reboot of 'Days of Thunder' set in the Elysée Palace.

The internet, that digital wasteland of the perpetually distracted, naturally took the bait. While actual geopolitical stability teeters on the edge of a jagged cliff, the global populace spent its precious mental energy debating the 'aesthetic' of a man who represents the very peak of neoliberal stagnation. Some called it 'cool.' Some called it 'bold.' I call it a symptom of a terminal illness. When our leaders begin to prioritize their Instagrammability over their actual utility, we have moved beyond the realm of governance and into the final, agonizing stages of a reality television show that has gone on several seasons too long.

Then, of course, there is Donald Trump. If Macron represents the pretentious, faux-intellectual wing of the global elite—the kind that uses three syllables when one would do—Trump represents the raw, unfiltered id of a Queens real estate developer who accidentally fell into a pile of power. Trump’s mocking of the glasses was as predictable as a sunrise and just as exhausting. Watching these two men interact is like watching a collision between a scented candle and a bulldozer. One is obsessed with the 'image' of refined power; the other is obsessed with the 'image' of the ultimate deal-maker. Neither of them cares about the actual substance of the issues they are supposedly debating, like the sovereignty of Greenland or the stability of the global climate. For them, the world is merely a backdrop for their respective brands.

Macron’s choice to wear the shades while criticizing Trump’s stance on Greenland was a masterclass in performative defiance. It’s the political version of a passive-aggressive 'Reply All' email. By hiding his eyes behind reflective lenses, Macron signals that he is untouchable, inscrutable, and fundamentally better than you. He isn't looking at the world; he is letting the world look at a reflection of itself in his luxury eyewear. It is the ultimate expression of the Davos man: someone who views the rest of humanity as a blurry, distant abstraction while they enjoy the crisp, high-definition luxury of the inner circle.

We are expected to care about this. We are expected to find it 'charming' or 'humanizing' that a world leader has a sense of style. In reality, it is a distraction from the fact that Davos is a monument to futility. These summits produce nothing but carbon emissions and self-congratulatory press releases. The 'Top Gun' look is just the latest coat of paint on a crumbling structure. Macron isn't 'taking flight'; he’s stalling out in mid-air, hoping that his aviators are dark enough that no one sees the panic in his eyes as the ground rushes up to meet him.

The tragedy isn't that Macron wore the glasses. The tragedy is that we are a species so easily swayed by the superficial that a pair of sunglasses can dominate the discourse of a global economic forum. We have the leaders we deserve: hollow vessels in expensive suits, hiding behind designer lenses, pretending they have a plan while they fly the plane straight into the side of a mountain. At least Macron will look cinematic in the black box footage.