by Jiemian News correspondent WANG Zifei, in Davos

Donald Trump arrived in Davos on January 21, for this year's annual World Economic Forum annual meeting.

By then, the signs were already visible. Armed security personnel patrolled the narrow streets of the Alpine resort, concrete barriers thickened outside hotels, and helicopters hovered low over the valley. Traffic grew heavier, slower. Americans had arrived — or were about to.

Each winter, Davos briefly transforms from a ski town into a stage for global power. Political leaders and business executives had already filled the program with speeches and panels on the opening days. Yet few doubted that this year’s central figure had not yet taken the stage.

That anticipation carried its own tension. On the morning of January 22, a rumor spread quietly among delegates that the town might be cut off from the internet for several hours that afternoon, supposedly for security reasons linked to Trump’s arrival. The claim later proved unfounded, but its circulation alone was telling. Trump had not yet appeared, yet the sense of unease was already in the air.

This is Trump's second visit to Davos. His first came in January 2020, on the eve of the global outbreak of Covid-19. At the time, Davos still reflected the residual optimism of late-stage globalization. Few seemed fully aware that an era of shared global crisis was about to begin.

That illusion has since faded.

This year, Trump arrived with what organizers described as the largest U.S. delegation in the forum's history. It included the U.S. secretary of state, treasury secretary and commerce secretary, alongside the chief executives of technology giants such as Nvidia and Microsoft. The lineup resembled a compact version of a state–capital alliance.

Yet that display of strength did little to reassure others. If anything, it heightened anxieties.

Some delegations appeared keen to avoid Trump altogether. According to people familiar with the schedule, French President Emmanuel Macron left Davos roughly an hour before Trump's arrival. Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney, fresh from a speech that some participants described as one of the meeting's most consequential, was also said to be steering clear of a direct encounter.

Transatlantic relations are under acute strain, with Greenland at the center of the dispute. Trump has repeatedly said the United States "must" obtain Greenland and has refused to rule out the use of force. He has also warned that Washington could withdraw from NATO if allies fail to comply with U.S. demands.

This time, the rhetoric is no longer treated as provocation or spectacle. Trump's renewed insistence on strategic control over Greenland has been framed explicitly in terms of national security, access to critical minerals, and competition over Arctic shipping routes. For European governments, this represents not merely diplomatic discourtesy, but a direct challenge to sovereignty and the postwar security order.

In Davos, Greenland has surfaced repeatedly — in panel discussions, private meetings, and hallway conversations. Nordic delegates spoke cautiously, but with unusual alignment. German and French officials, in private, voiced deep concern about what they described as Washington's return to unilateral logic.

Davos has long functioned as a showcase for transatlantic consensus. This year, visible cracks have emerged. Some participants suggested the moment could mark a turning point: erosion of U.S.–Europe alignment, weakening of NATO, and a reshaping of the international order built after World War II.

A longtime Davos observer noted that while the forum presents itself as global in scope, its core relationship has always been between the United States and Europe. What is happening now, the person said, is not new — it is simply being acknowledged more openly.

Publicly, European leaders continue to emphasize alliances, partnerships and shared values. Behind closed doors, the tone has shifted. The Trump administration's approach is widely understood as blunt and transactional: resources, security and supply chains are subordinated to U.S. national interests. Allies are instruments, not constraints.

That logic collides directly with Europe's continued commitment to multilateral frameworks. Greenland may be the first point of friction, but few expect it to be the last.

Against this backdrop, China has been frequently referenced, though it has maintained a relatively low profile. The Chinese delegation was modest in size. Vice-Premier He Lifeng delivered a measured speech calling for the defense of multilateralism and free trade — a contrast to the sharper tone adopted by U.S. officials.

In Davos today, China is no longer framed simply as a "challenge" or "risk." It is treated as a structural presence — both a market and a component of global order. In discussions on geopolitics and supply chains, China often appeared as an unspoken constant. A European official remarked that if rules continue to fray, the world may come to resemble a zero-sum contest between the U.S. and China, rather than a network of multilateral cooperation. China did not create this year's tension in Davos, the official said, but it shapes how the future is being assessed.

That may be the forum's clearest signal this year. The world has entered a phase in which consensus is no longer assumed. In the snow-covered town, delegates continue to speak of cooperation, stability and the future. Yet beneath the familiar language lies a hesitation that is difficult to conceal. Greenland is merely a visible crack on the surface. The deeper unease comes from the sense that the ice itself is slowly shifting.