Since 1971, Davos has been the playground of the rich and powerful, a small Swiss resort that once a year hosts a glittering party for hypertrophied egos and atrophied minds. But in the 1920s Davos was the luxurious destination for a different category of the wealthy – those suffering from tuberculosis. I wonder if Klaus Schwab chose Davos for gatherings of his World Economic Forum with a deliberately ironic eye: a place where those who come to pay homage to their global self-importance dance unknowingly on the graves of their prematurely deceased forebears.
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