Davos Became a Tech Conference the Moment AI Companies Started Dictating Global Policy

The Storefronts Tell the Story

Meta and Salesforce didn't just attend Davos this year—they bought real estate on the main promenade. That's not conference participation, that's territorial occupation. The World Economic Forum's 2026 meeting wasn't interrupted by tech companies; it was consumed by them.

The shift isn't subtle. Climate change and global poverty discussions got relegated to side rooms while AI dominated the main stage. This isn't about tech becoming more important than traditional policy issues. It's about tech CEOs realizing they have more influence over global outcomes than most heads of state, and deciding to use it.

Public Criticism Replaced Private Lobbying

The notable change at Davos 2026 wasn't just AI's dominance—it was tech executives publicly criticizing trade policy instead of working backchannels. That's a fundamental shift in strategy.

For decades, tech companies played the game: hire lobbyists, fund think tanks, influence policy through proxies. Public criticism was considered unsophisticated, something you did when you'd already lost. But when you control infrastructure that governments depend on, the calculation changes.

OpenAI, Anthropic, and Google aren't lobbying for favorable AI regulation anymore—they're dictating what reasonable regulation looks like and daring governments to deviate. The public criticism at Davos wasn't a breakdown in diplomatic protocol; it was a demonstration of power. When a tech CEO criticizes trade policy at a global forum, they're not asking for change, they're announcing it.

This mirrors what I wrote about Claude winning enterprise by refusing to play OpenAI's game. The companies that succeeded didn't optimize for the existing playbook—they wrote new rules and forced everyone else to adapt.

The AI Bubble Warning Nobody Wants to Hear

Several CEOs at Davos warned about AI bubbles popping, which is fascinating given they're the ones inflating it. This isn't concern about market stability—it's positioning for the inevitable correction.

The AI infrastructure build-out resembles the fiber optic bubble of the late 90s: massive capital expenditure on capacity that won't generate returns for years, if ever. But there's a crucial difference. The fiber bubble was about physical infrastructure with clear deployment timelines. AI capability is nebulous—you can't measure whether you've built "enough" compute capacity because nobody knows what "enough" looks like.

The warnings at Davos weren't altruistic. They're preemptive narrative control. When the correction happens—and it will—the CEOs who called it want credit for prescience rather than blame for participation. It's the same dynamic that played out with inflation metrics I covered earlier: the measurement system is designed to obscure rather than illuminate.

Here's what the bubble warnings miss: the pop won't come from overcapacity or failed deployments. It'll come from the gap between AI capabilities and actual business value. Every company is spending on AI infrastructure because they're terrified of being left behind, not because they've identified specific ROI. That's not sustainable.

Traditional Topics Became Irrelevant Because Tech Already Solved Them (Badly)

Climate change and global poverty didn't lose mindshare at Davos because they're less important—they lost because tech companies already deployed their solutions and moved on. The conversation shifted from "what should we do" to "what do we do about what tech companies already did."

Consider climate tech: billions poured into carbon capture, renewable energy optimization, and climate modeling powered by AI. These weren't solutions developed through international cooperation—they were products shipped by startups and acquired by tech giants. By the time Davos 2026 rolled around, the climate conversation wasn't about policy frameworks; it was about managing the consequences of solutions deployed without global consensus.

The same pattern applies to poverty and inequality. Fintech companies built banking infrastructure for the unbanked. AI tutoring systems deployed to underserved communities. These weren't coordinated development initiatives—they were market opportunities that tech companies captured while governments were still forming committees.

This is why AI dominated Davos: it's the only major challenge where tech companies haven't already deployed their answer. They're still building, still competing, still shaping what the solution looks like. Climate and poverty are yesterday's battles. AI is today's, and tech CEOs showed up to make sure governments understand who's in charge.

The Real Shift Nobody's Talking About

Davos didn't turn into a tech conference because tech companies bought storefronts or dominated the agenda. It turned into a tech conference because the traditional power structure inverted. Governments used to set policy that tech companies navigated. Now tech companies set direction and governments figure out how to regulate around it.

The World Economic Forum's annual meeting has always been about power concentration—that hasn't changed. What changed is who holds the power. When Meta and Salesforce occupy main street real estate at Davos, they're not participating in the global conversation. They're hosting it.

This connects directly to what I wrote about market analysis becoming useless when everyone uses the same data. The traditional Davos playbook assumed governments controlled the levers that mattered. But when AI companies control infrastructure that determines how information flows, how decisions get made, and how value gets created, the old analysis framework breaks down.

The tech CEOs at Davos 2026 weren't there to learn what global priorities should be. They were there to announce what they've already decided to build, and to watch governments scramble to catch up. That's not a conference. That's a product launch with diplomatic cover.

What Comes Next Isn't Negotiable

The most telling aspect of Davos 2026 wasn't what got discussed—it was what didn't need discussion. Nobody debated whether AI should be central to climate solutions, economic development, or healthcare. That decision already got made in boardrooms in San Francisco and Seattle.

The "what comes next" conversation at Davos wasn't about direction. It was about speed. How fast can governments adapt to decisions tech companies already made? How quickly can traditional institutions restructure around infrastructure they don't control?

That's why Davos became a tech conference. Not because tech showed up, but because everything else became a footnote to what tech already deployed.