Dwain Northey (Gen X)

Here we are at Davos, that cozy alpine lodge for billionaires and their conscience-free scarves, where Donald strides up to the mic and announces, with the confidence of a man who just discovered the word “leverage,” that we have “total control of Greenland.” Not ownership, mind you—just control. Like it’s a timeshare. Or a hostile takeover he hasn’t quite finished explaining to the lawyers yet. It’s imperialism-by-vibes: we run it, we don’t own it, and don’t ask follow-up questions because the sentence will fall apart if you do.

And then comes the accidental honesty. The reason we’re not “owning” Greenland anymore isn’t diplomacy, international law, or the will of the people who actually live there. No, it’s because the market flinched. Stocks dipped, charts went red, and suddenly Mr. Tough Guy Realpolitik discovered restraint. This is foreign policy as a day trader’s panic attack—tariffs on, tariffs off, threats issued, threats walked back, all depending on whether the Dow smiles at him before lunch. The invisible hand of the market isn’t guiding policy; it’s yanking the steering wheel while he live-tweets from the driver’s seat.

And still, somehow, the faithful refuse to notice the most obvious pattern in the room: a president who has turned the office into a high-frequency trading algorithm with a red hat. Billions made, markets whiplashed, allies confused, and the country told it’s all very strong and very smart. He’s not governing; he’s scalping. And Davos gets the clearest view yet: this isn’t strategy, it’s a cash register—ka-ching—masquerading as leadership, with Greenland just the latest receipt.