The 2026 World Economic Forum in Davos has confirmed what many of us have been observing: neoliberalism is facing a profound crisis. Financial Times analysts call it "disoriented," noting pressures to sideline social issues and a shift toward a more fragmented world. This isn't surprising. A system that prioritizes markets over equity and democracy inevitably shows its cracks.
What's intriguing is how this collapse echoes historical patterns of economic paradigms crumbling. We've seen eras of global integration followed by rupture, with elites clinging to the old order while new ideas emerge from the margins. Today, global scale accelerates everything, as if the entire world were at an inflection point.
At Davos, leaders like Donald Trump seek to silence debates on social justice, while Javier Milei extols free markets with unshakable passion. This is the instinctive defense of those who thrive under the status quo: deny the problem, reject new options, and double down on what has already failed. But what if this only accelerates the change?
The world is already moving in that direction. Trade tensions, overwhelming sovereign debts, and the resurgence of the far right are no coincidence. They reveal a model that promised prosperity for all and delivered extreme inequality. Post-Cold War liberal multilateralism is giving way to something different, perhaps something better suited to local realities.
This is where social sovereigntism comes in, a concept I explore in my writings on economic alternatives. It's not about closed-off nationalism, but about states reclaiming power to shield their people from global shocks and borderless corporations. It's a practical response to years of policies that put finance above people, connecting to themes of sovereignty and dignity I discuss in the book.
In my experience, organizations in crisis pass through denial, resistance, and finally, adaptation. Davos 2026 seems stuck in resistance: it admits failures but proposes patches to the very system responsible for them. I wonder if this won't prove counterproductive in the long run.
The contrast with Latin America illustrates the point. While Milei defends free markets at the forum, other regional leaders are testing approaches that emphasize national control over key resources and social protection. From the global periphery, where neoliberalism hit hardest, these visions are emerging. I think about how, in contexts like Mexico, these dynamics are seen up close, recalling past lessons in economic independence.
Archaeologists show us that civilizations erode gradually: institutions lose faith, elites drift from real life, and new powers sprout up. We're in that phase now, moving from liberal multilateralism toward fragmented forms that are nonetheless attentive to the common good. A brief digression: recall the end of the Roman or colonial empires; it wasn't total chaos, but room for local innovations that endured.
This fragmentation might not be pure disorder. It could foster diversity, testing of varied models, and responses tailored to specific needs. The unipolar world was a historical exception; multipolarity, with all its complexities, is more the norm. What's interesting is how this invites experimentation without universal recipes.
The challenge is navigating this transition while avoiding toxic nationalisms or tariff wars that harm everyone. Social sovereigntism suggests a path: states that are socially solid, yet open to cooperation. Protecting dignity without isolating oneself. I still don't have full clarity on how all these tensions will resolve, but I recognize the complexity; this is more nuanced than it seems.
The statements coming out of Davos 2026 make it clear: change is inevitable, questioning neoliberalism in favor of sovereignties with a social focus. It promises no paradise, but it opens doors to trials that value human wellbeing over runaway finance. It's a chance for fairer systems, learning from past mistakes and alternative successes. I write because I believe in exploring these options, inviting reflection on what might work better.
Stones don't lie, but historians sometimes do.
