The Davos disclosure: what Trump’s speech reveals about the new great power order

BOTTOM LINE UP FRONT: President Trump’s Davos speech on 21 January 2026 wasn’t an economic address. It was a declaration that America has abandoned the post-war liberal order in favour of 19th-century spheres of influence. Four signals confirm the shift: Venezuela establishes a template for unilateral resource extraction through military force; NATO becomes a protection racket demanding tribute; Greenland reveals Arctic competition as non-negotiable strategic positioning; and China is reframed from adversary to potential partner in carving up regional dominance. For Britain and Europe, the implications are stark—alliance commitments are now conditional, security guarantees transactional, and comfortable assumptions about American reliability have become dangerous illusions. The question isn’t whether to adapt to this reality. It’s whether adaptation comes quickly enough to matter.

When President Donald Trump addressed the World Economic Forum on 21 January 2026—the first anniversary of his second inauguration—European leaders in attendance heard something unusual: candour. The speech, ostensibly celebrating American economic renewal, offered instead a blueprint for dismantling eight decades of transatlantic architecture. Not through policy detail (much of which had already been telegraphed) but through brazen articulation of a worldview that dispenses entirely with diplomatic euphemism.

Trump’s economic claims warrant scepticism. The 77% reduction in monthly trade deficit, $18 trillion in investment commitments, 1.6% core inflation—none withstand scrutiny. Independent analysis puts core inflation at 2.7% year-over-year, with grocery prices rising rather than falling. Yet fixating on numerical accuracy misses the point. These claims serve a narrative function: demonstrating that economic nationalism and protective tariffs can deliver prosperity without triggering the catastrophic consequences predicted by “so-called experts”. Whether accurate matters less than their purpose—legitimising a fundamental reordering of America’s relationship with the world economy.

The substantive revelation lies elsewhere. Four critical signals about where great power competition is heading.

Signal one: Venezuela as template

Trump’s Venezuela discussion—carefully calibrated to sound transactional rather than imperial—reveals more than he perhaps intended. Eighteen days before Davos, U.S. special forces captured President Nicolás Maduro in Operation Absolute Resolve, the culminating strike of the broader Operation Southern Spear campaign. The speech framed this as economic opportunity: “Last week, we picked up 50 million barrels from Venezuela alone... they’ll be making more money than they’ve made in a long time. Venezuela is going to do fantastically well”.

Benevolent partnership? No. Resource extraction secured through military force, dressed up as mutual benefit. Trump acknowledged the calculation openly: “Once the attack ended, the attack ended and they said, ‘Let’s make a deal.’ More people should do that”. Translation: resistance is futile, but compliance will be rewarded.​

The precedent is clear. Unilateral intervention, then economic arrangements favouring Washington. No Congressional authorisation. No allied consultation. No UN Security Council approval. American military superiority translating directly into resource access and political compliance.

This approach—increasingly termed the “Donroe Doctrine” after the Venezuela operation—amounts to 19th-century spheres of influence adapted for 21st-century resource competition. Washington claims intervention rights based on “strategic necessity” and resource access. Russia and China now have a playbook for justifying their own regional assertions. The rules-based order’s foundational principle—sovereignty as inviolable except through legitimate collective security mechanisms—collapses when the system’s principal guarantor treats it as optional.

Signal two: NATO recast as transaction

Trump stripped away diplomatic niceties: “The United States is treated very unfairly by NATO. I want to tell you that. And when you think about it, nobody can dispute it. We give so much and we get so little in return”. He continued: “I’ve been a critic of NATO for many years. And yet I’ve done more to help NATO than any other president by far”.​

Mutual defence becomes fee-for-service. American protection exchanged for burden-sharing that never quite satisfies Washington’s demands. Ukraine exemplifies this: “The war with Ukraine is an example. We are thousands of miles away, separated by a giant ocean”. Implicit message—why should America bear costs for European security when Europe sits adjacent to the threat?​

The transactional logic now extends to rewriting history. Trump’s claim that European forces “stayed a little back” from the front lines in Afghanistan is an obscene insult to the 1,160 non-American coalition soldiers killed in that campaign. British families who buried sons and daughters killed by IEDs in Helmand didn’t “stay a little back.” Danish veterans who lost limbs clearing compounds in Gereshk didn’t stay back. Canadian soldiers who fought through Kandahar didn’t stay back. Many bled. Too many perished. The comment doesn’t just reflect transactional thinking about current commitments—it exposes willingness to erase shared sacrifice when politically convenient.

For Britain—457 personnel lost in Afghanistan—this creates acute dilemmas. The 2025 Strategic Defence Review’s “NATO First” commitment and pledge to make the Army “10 times more lethal” through AI and autonomous systems reads as hedging (at least on paper): maintaining alliance commitments whilst preparing for scenarios where American disengagement becomes reality. Yet British dependencies run deep. Trident relies on American technology and maintenance. F-35 software upgrades flow from Washington. Five Eyes assumes American leadership.

Professor Andrew M. Dorman of King’s College identified the bind last year: “The depleted state of the UK’s armed forces will need to be addressed. But, in doing so, the UK will need to ensure that it both helps bridge the capability gaps that the US currently provides and reduces its overall dependence on the US in the defence field”. Easier said than done when decades of procurement assumed American reliability.

Signal three: Greenland and Arctic positioning

Trump devoted nearly 15 minutes to Greenland—the speech’s longest single-topic discussion. The justification combined historical grievance with strategic necessity: “We literally set up bases on Greenland for Denmark. We fought for Denmark... We saved Greenland and successfully prevented our enemies from gaining a foothold in our hemisphere”. Then the pivot: “After the war, which we won, we won it big. Without us right now, you’d all be speaking German and a little Japanese perhaps. After the war, we gave Greenland back to Denmark. How stupid were we to do that?”.

American sacrifice insufficiently appreciated requires territorial compensation. This framing legitimises acquisition through historical debt rather than purchase or negotiation. Trump positioned Greenland’s location as strategically vital: “This enormous unsecured island is actually part of North America on the northern frontier of the Western Hemisphere... sitting undefended in a key strategic location between the United States, Russia and China”.​

The rare earth minerals Trump dismisses (“There’s so many there’s no rare earth. No such thing as rare earth... to get to this rare earth, you got to go through hundreds of feet of ice”) actually reinforce his argument. Minerals aren’t the driver. Strategic positioning is—and it’s non-negotiable.​

Discussions with NATO Secretary General Mark Rutte produced what’s being called a “framework agreement,” though details remain vague. What’s emerged points toward shared security arrangements, expanded American military presence, integration into Arctic defence infrastructure. When Denmark responded with diplomatic protests and European partners deployed token forces, American tariff warnings followed shortly after. Economic pressure as negotiating tool.​

This connects to Sino-Russian Arctic cooperation. China’s self-designation as a “near-Arctic state” (despite 800 nautical miles of distance) and joint patrols with Russia reflect Beijing’s long-term strategy—securing shipping routes and resource access as ice coverage diminishes. Trump’s Arctic focus represents a calculated move in three-way competition where geography, energy and military basing converge.

Signal four: China reframed

Trump’s China discussion reveals fundamental reframing. From existential threat to manageable rival. On AI: “We’re leading the world in AI by a lot. We’re leading China by a lot. I think President Xi respects what we’ve done”. Not threat inflation. Competitive positioning with undertones of mutual respect.​

On energy he praised Chinese pragmatism: “I read recently an article in the Wall Street Journal that China’s creating so much energy, and they are. I got to hand it to them. But we’re creating as much or more”. Admiration, not denunciation.​

The extensive windmill critique positioned China as clever rather than threatening: “China makes almost all of the windmills. And yet I haven’t been able to find any wind farms in China... They’re smart. China is very smart. They make them. They sell them for a fortune. They sell them to the stupid people that buy them, but they don’t use them themselves”. The target isn’t Chinese industrial policy. European energy choices bear the criticism.​

Trump’s 2025 National Security Strategy no longer identifies Beijing as America’s primary competitor. Combined with respectful tone and reports of backchannel communications with President Xi, this raises the possibility of something more significant—a tacit understanding about spheres of influence. Whether this amounts to formal grand bargain or simply mutual recognition of respective regional interests remains unclear. The direction of travel isn’t.

Such an arrangement would invert the “Thucydides Trap.” Rather than rising power (China) challenging established hegemon (America), Trump appears willing to negotiate zones of predominance. Accepting Chinese dominance in East Asia in exchange for American hegemony in the Western Hemisphere. The formula resembles 19th-century great power arrangements more than post-1945 collective security.

For Britain and Europe, even the possibility proves nightmarish. Indo-Pacific acquiescence to Chinese expansion leaves Taiwan vulnerable, undermines Japanese and South Korean security, renders AUKUS and Quad commitments hollow. Britain’s Indo-Pacific tilt—embodied in the Integrated Review and AUKUS partnership—assumes American commitment to regional security. A Sino-American understanding treating allies as negotiable would leave the UK overextended in a theatre where it lacks capacity to balance China independently.

Britain’s calculation

British policymakers confront a bleak reality. The special relationship provides neither the influence nor security it once did. European strategic autonomy remains aspirational rather than operational. Britain lacks power to independently shape outcomes in any major theatre—Europe, the Indo-Pacific, the Middle East.

Four imperatives emerge. Accelerate defence integration with European partners (Brexit need not preclude PESCO, the European Defence Fund, military mobility projects). Diversify nuclear dependencies beyond American Trident technology. Recalibrate Indo-Pacific commitments toward defence technology cooperation—AI, autonomous systems, cyber—rather than force posture exceeding sustainable capacity without American logistics. Invest in asymmetric capabilities. AI, drones, electronic warfare. Ukraine taught lessons about innovation at speed beating procurement at leisure.

The post-liberal order

Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney’s Davos assessment proved prescient: “We are experiencing a rupture, not merely a transition”. The emerging system resembles 19th-century Concert of Europe arrangements more than 20th-century collective security. Three or four great powers—the United States, China, Russia, potentially a unified European pole—negotiate spheres of influence whilst middle powers hedge through flexible coalitions.

This multipolar order may prove less stable than either Cold War bipolarity or post-Cold War unipolarity. Bipolarity provided clarity through rigid alliance structures. Unipolarity allowed the hegemon to manage conflicts and enforce norms. Multipolarity breeds uncertainty about relative power, contested spheres, miscalculation risks when middle powers test boundaries.

The cruel truth for middle powers like Britain—agency differs from autonomy. Britain can shape outcomes at margins through coalitions, niche capabilities, diplomatic skill. It cannot independently determine whether the Atlantic alliance endures, whether China dominates East Asia, whether economic globalisation reverses. Those questions will be settled by great power interactions where British preferences matter modestly at best.

Reading between the lines

Trump’s Davos speech should be read not as policy advocacy requiring rebuttal but as diagnostic revelation. The president articulated what many Washington strategists privately believe: maintaining global hegemony is unsustainable, allies are free-riders, multilateral institutions constrain necessary action, spheres of influence offer a more stable framework than universal rules.

The disclosure wasn’t what Trump said about trade deficits or energy policy. It was his brazen articulation of a worldview where might makes right, sovereignty is conditional, alliances serve the strong. That he delivered this message to European elites at the World Economic Forum—the temple of globalisation—exposes how completely the geopolitical architecture has been demolished.

For Britain and its European partners, the imperative is clear: prepare for a world where influence rests on ideological alignment and actual capabilities, not abstract norms, where security depends on what you can physically defend rather than what treaties merely promise. The post-war order has ended. Trump’s speech simply confirmed what strategists reading between the lines already knew. The question isn’t whether Britain accepts this reality. It’s how quickly it adapts to a landscape where comfortable assumptions about American reliability have become dangerous illusions.

Image © World Economic Forum/CHeeney — CC BY-SA 4.0