Ah, Davos. That high-altitude sanctuary where the world’s self-appointed shepherds gather to discuss the plight of the sheep while feasting on wagyu and sipping vintage bordeaux. It is the one place on earth where the oxygen is thin, but the irony is suffocatingly thick. This year’s performance of the 'Great Reset'—or whatever marketing slogan the World Economic Forum has currently scotch-taped to its forehead—includes a particularly delicious vignette of global cynicism: the State Oil Fund of the Republic of Azerbaijan (SOFAZ) entering into a holy matrimony with the gargantuans of global asset management, namely BlackRock, Brookfield, and Global Infrastructure Partners (GIP).

It is a match made in a very specific, carbon-heavy heaven. For the uninitiated, SOFAZ is the piggy bank where Azerbaijan stashes its oil and gas wealth, a fund essentially built on the ancient, liquefied remains of the Paleozoic era. And where better to secure the future of this fossil-fuel fortune than in the arms of Larry Fink and his cohorts? The strategic partnerships signed amidst the Swiss snow represent a masterpiece of bureaucratic theatre. They tell us that the world is changing, that we are transitioning, and that 'trust' is being rebuilt. In reality, it is simply the sound of the world’s largest vacuum cleaners synchronized to the same frequency.

Let us admire the surgical precision of the hypocrisy here. BlackRock has spent the better part of the last decade positioning itself as the moral arbiter of the investment world. We have been treated to endless 'Letters to CEOs' that read like secular sermons on the virtues of Environmental, Social, and Governance (ESG) standards. And yet, here they are, shaking hands with the custodians of a petro-state’s sovereign wealth. It’s a sublime bit of gymnastics. One can almost hear the internal memos: 'We must save the planet, yes, but we must also ensure that the management fees from the Caspian Sea remain robust.' It is the kind of intellectual flexibility that only several trillion dollars in assets under management can provide.

Azerbaijan, for its part, plays the role of the 'emerging partner' with practiced ease. By aligning with Brookfield and GIP, they aren't just investing; they are laundering their reputation through the high-finance equivalent of a dry cleaner. Brookfield, the Canadian-cum-global behemoth that treats real estate and infrastructure like a game of Monopoly, and GIP, the infrastructure specialists, provide the perfect scaffolding. It’s about 'long-term strategic partnerships,' a phrase that in Davos-speak translates to 'we have decided to stop pretending we care about anything other than compounding interest.'

There is a profound exhaustion in watching this play out. To the exasperated intellectual, these signings are not news; they are the inevitable conclusion of a world governed by the path of least resistance. The bureaucrats at SOFAZ get to tell their domestic audience that they are 'diversifying' and 'globalizing,' while the Western asset managers get to tap into a pipeline of capital that doesn't ask too many pesky questions about human rights or democratic transparency. It is a win-win for everyone involved, except perhaps for the concept of sincerity, which was found dead in a snowbank near the Magic Mountain hotel decades ago.

The tragedy of this situation is not that it is happening—capital, like water, always finds the cracks—but that it is presented to us as a form of progress. We are expected to applaud as the wealth extracted from the earth’s crust is handed over to the architects of the global financial matrix. We are told this will fund the 'infrastructure of tomorrow.' But whose tomorrow? Certainly not that of the average citizen who thinks Davos is a type of Swiss chocolate. No, this is about the fortification of an elite class that has transcended borders, ideologies, and even the laws of thermodynamics.

As I watch the footage of these handshakes, I am struck by the sheer banality of it all. The suits are too well-tailored, the smiles too practiced, the press releases too polished. There is no mention of the volatility of the oil markets or the ethical quagmire of tethering global pension funds to the fortunes of a single-resource autocracy. Instead, there is only the humming of the neoliberal liturgy. It is a world-weary realization that we are merely spectators in a theater of the absurd, where the actors are also the directors, the critics, and the ticket-takers. Azerbaijan’s move to strengthen ties with BlackRock and Brookfield isn’t a pivot; it’s a consolidation. It is the closing of a circle that ensures no matter who wins the climate wars, the house—and the oil fund—always wins. I told you so, but then again, the truth has always been the least popular guest at the Davos party.