Theatre of Change. Behind the Global Stage

Yesterday morning, over an espresso macchiato at Bar 45 on Bahnhofstrasse — one of those places where the day begins for the street’s regulars: bankers, portfolio managers, consultants of Zurich — I was jotting down notes for today’s topic. Amid the café’s murmur of conversation, Zweig’s The World of Yesterday suddenly came to mind, where he describes the Viennese coffeehouse as “an intellectual club for the lonely” — a place where one could sit for hours with a newspaper: reading, writing, debating. Zweig’s thought could just as well apply to Zurich — with one correction: an intellectual club not for the lonely, but for bankers.

Zurich, of course, is not Vienna. As one of the world’s financial centers, it is more restrained, precise, structured. And yet — I’ve long meant to write about Zurich: its rhythms, its habits, its quiet contrasts with Vienna, where I spent nearly ten years. But everything in its time. Today’s theme lies elsewhere.

As a banker working in institutional asset management and a proponent of long-term investment strategies, I believe it is important to keep a distance from the daily stream of news — which turns not only into information overload, but into a kind of trap, one that obscures what really matters. The paradox is that the closer you are to the data, the further you might be from reality.

It’s crucial to know how to switch off. Not in the sense of withdrawing into isolation, but by consciously creating space — space in which one can think. To observe structure. To recognize connections. It’s like trying to understand a play not through its dialogue, but through the director’s intent, the set design, the pauses, and the actors’ movements offstage.

And so today, once again, tariff policy is in the spotlight. Some follow market reactions, others debate the motives. Trump announces tariffs, then pauses them — but not for China. On the contrary, he doubles down. At times I catch myself thinking: am I reading the news, or watching another season of a political drama on Netflix? Only this time, the starring role is played by the world’s most powerful nation.

But let’s try to step out of the auditorium and look at the stage from above — like spectators in the gallery. From there, it’s clear: this play has long departed from familiar scripts. This isn’t about temporary protectionism, or negotiations, or the usual cycle of escalation and retreat.

This is the beginning of the final act.

Today, Trump’s decision is often compared to the infamous Smoot–Hawley Tariff Act of 1930. Despite objections from economists and business leaders like Henry Ford, President Hoover, signing it into law and choosing isolation, likely acted out of a belief he was protecting the domestic market. The result: global trade fell by 65% over five years, deepening an already devastating Great Depression.

Though the same slogan is heard — America First — I believe today’s context runs far deeper. Trump’s protectionist policy, in my view, aims not only to address America’s macroeconomic imbalances, but to reach for their root causes.

What’s curious is that the leaders of today’s industrial and technological America — Elon Musk, for instance, arguably a modern-day Henry Ford — not only refrain from opposing these moves, but in fact support them, even at the expense of their own global businesses.

And if we’re going to talk about protectionism, let’s be honest: it isn’t an American monopoly. For more than three decades, China has systematically deployed every protectionist tool: high tariffs, strict import controls, state support for key sectors, licensing regimes, technological barriers, currency restrictions. It has become the master of flexible protectionism — deeply embedded in global trade, yet fiercely protective of its own interests.

As someone who has been observing these dynamics and trying to see the connections, I increasingly feel that both sides — the U.S., China, and the forces behind them (let’s call them “the City of London”) — have already entered the final phase of the game. Endgame. The masks are off. And all signs point to a hard confrontation.

The stakes are higher than chip supply or logistics chains. The stakes are over the future: whose model will become the blueprint for the next world order?

The U.S. appears to be moving fast to reframe the global agenda — building new industrial zones, seeking alternatives to Chinese dependency, and shifting the strategic center to the Pacific.

For the last 4–5 years, we’ve seen active preparation of alternative production hubs and new routes. Regions once labeled “high-risk” are back on the map. Iraq. Afghanistan. Perhaps Syria next. Turkic-speaking countries are gaining weight. Logistics corridors and energy alliances are emerging. Physical security is being ensured for future industrial infrastructure.

China (or the forces behind it), in turn, seems intent on stretching America’s attention — keeping tensions alive from Eastern Europe to Africa and the Middle East, as if trying to delay the inevitable clash.

These developments align with the rising momentum of Dubai, followed by Istanbul and Cairo — a possible financial triad of the new reality. It’s here the next economic cycle may begin — in the arc between the Black Sea, the Persian Gulf, and the Suez Canal.

It may sound like fiction — but only to those still watching the scenery, not the architecture of the stage.

The U.S. has its project. China — its own. Europe, embodied by the EU, is still searching — for ideology and for direction.

But Germany, as the region’s leader, may still catch the departing train. Perhaps that explains the growing activity of Germany’s industrial elite — seeking new partners and growth points in the Middle East, the Caucasus, and Central Asia.

On its strategic path, America’s current political elite may well accept a market dip — even a recession — as a price worth paying for a strategic reset.

The stage is set. The world is preparing to be remade — with new centers of economic and political gravity.

The masks are off. The noise fades. The lights shift. The final scene begins.