The Davos Man, and the end of an illusion

The Rise of Davos Man

For over half a century, the snowy peaks of Davos, Switzerland, have drawn the world's most powerful figures to the World Economic Forum's annual meeting. Founded in 1971 by Klaus Schwab, a German engineer and economist, the gathering started as the European Management Symposium. It aimed to introduce European business leaders to American management practices and foster collaboration across sectors. Schwab's vision of stakeholder capitalism—where companies serve not just shareholders but employees, suppliers, and communities—became a cornerstone. The first event in Davos attracted executives from 31 countries, setting the stage for what would evolve into a global platform. Politicians joined in 1974, and by 1987, it was rebranded as the World Economic Forum, emphasizing public-private partnerships to tackle pressing issues.

The term "Davos Man" emerged to describe this elite cadre. Coined by political scientist Samuel P. Huntington, it painted a picture of cosmopolitan leaders who transcend national loyalties. These individuals, often CEOs, heads of state, and influencers, view borders as relics and governments as mere facilitators for their global operations. Attendees—around 3,000 strong each January—network in private conversations, forging business deals and political breakthroughs amid official sessions on everything from climate change to economic policy. Funded by multinational corporations, the forum embodies an ideal of openness and cooperation, renewed in the 2020 Davos Manifesto. For decades, it symbolized progress, with participants grabbing ideas and markets regardless of cultural origins, as one assessment put it.

Cracks in the Global Elite Facade

Yet, the illusion of a unified Davos Man has begun to fracture. Critics argue this detached superclass exacerbates inequality, pulling societies apart even as it claims to unite them. While the forum promotes shared goals, its exclusivity—high fees, limited access—turns attendance into a status symbol for the ultra-wealthy. Huntington's "global elite" is now seen by some as out of touch, prioritizing international agendas over local concerns. By 2019, observers noted the archetype had splintered into rival camps, driven by diverging interests in trade wars, populism, and geopolitical tensions.

"Davos Man has little need for national loyalty, views national boundaries as obstacles that are happily vanishing, and sees national governments as residues from the past whose only real function is to facilitate the elite's global operations," Huntington once observed, a description that now fuels backlash against such insularity.

Klaus Schwab himself pushed back, insisting true Davos participants blend global, national, and local identities. Still, real-world events have tested this spirit. Rising nationalism, protectionist policies, and public distrust of institutions have made the forum's collaborative ethos feel increasingly hollow. Schwab, now in his late 80s, is stepping back from executive duties, prompting questions about the organization's future direction. Attendees still flock to the Alps, but the private dialogues that once sparked breakthroughs now grapple with multiplying threats to stability, from economic divides to cultural clashes. The very idea of a seamless global elite seems at odds with a world fragmenting along national lines.

The Illusion Unravels

Today, the end of the Davos Man illusion reflects broader shifts. What began as a bold experiment in cross-border cooperation now faces scrutiny for failing to deliver equitable outcomes. Stakeholder capitalism, once hailed as inclusive, struggles against accusations of greenwashing and corporate self-interest. The forum's branded "spirit of Davos"—collegiality amid luxury—clashes with grassroots demands for accountability. As Schwab's legacy endures, the event persists, but its influence wanes in an era where national sovereignty trumps supranational ideals. Participants may still debate the Fourth Industrial Revolution or sustainable goals, yet the disconnect grows. The global superclass, once praised for pragmatic universality, is recast as a symbol of privilege, its power diluted by populist winds and economic realities.

In essence, Davos Man represented an optimistic bet on globalization's triumph. That bet is faltering, exposing the limits of elite-driven solutions. While the annual meeting endures as a networking hub, its core promise—a frictionless world order—feels like a bygone dream. Moving forward, the forum must adapt to prove its relevance beyond the mountaintop echo chamber.

The key points highlight Davos Man's origins in Schwab's vision, its portrayal as a rootless elite, the emerging fractures from inequality and nationalism, and the fading illusion of unified global leadership.