Wenn man weiss ,dass Mao von Bush sen. Starthilfe bekommen hat,und er nach wie vor an seiner Heimatuni hochgelobt wird,wird auch einiges klar. Es sind im Übrigen die selben Eliten die sich für die fraz.Revolution,den ersten wie den zweiten Weltkrieg verantwortlich zeichenen.
The “Great Reset” – Vision, Power, and the Question of Who Benefits
The term “Great Reset” is so explosive because it fuses two very different levels into one. On the surface, it is a publicly articulated reform narrative promoted by the World Economic Forum after the COVID-19 crisis, aimed at rebuilding economic and social systems in a more “sustainable” and “resilient” way. Beneath that surface lies a power question: who defines what “better” means, which instruments are used to achieve it, and who ultimately benefits from such a transformation. This is precisely where the debate often derails. Some treat the Great Reset as a secret master plan for global domination; others dismiss it as harmless conference rhetoric with no real impact. Both views are wrong. The Great Reset is neither an all-powerful command structure nor an empty slogan. It is an agenda framework that resonates with governments, corporations, financial actors, consultancies, and international institutions – and therefore has real effects, not through coercion, but through alignment.
The “Great Reset Initiative” was publicly launched in 2020 in direct connection with the COVID-19 pandemic. The crisis was framed as a historic rupture, a moment to accelerate reforms that had long been discussed but only slowly implemented. In this sense, the pandemic served less as a cause than as a catalyst. The core ideas were not new: stakeholder capitalism instead of pure shareholder value, accelerated climate and sustainability policies, and a deeper integration of digital technologies into governance, markets, and everyday life. What changed was the urgency and the narrative of inevitability.
Crucially, the Great Reset is not a legal program. The World Economic Forum has no legislative power. But it operates where modern power is often most effective: in setting agendas, defining norms, and shaping what appears “reasonable” or “necessary.” This happens through metrics, standards, reporting requirements, benchmarks, and classifications. Once such instruments exist, they quickly migrate into regulation, investment decisions, procurement rules, and public policy. Even when participation is formally voluntary, it becomes de facto mandatory through capital markets and reputational pressure. Those who do not comply appear risky, outdated, or irresponsible.
This brings us to the decisive question: who benefits from such a transformation, and why does it feel to many citizens as if they are not among the winners? Large systemic shifts always create winners, because new rules generate new markets, new gatekeepers, and new dependencies. Those who define standards, certify compliance, control infrastructure, manage data, and allocate capital gain structural advantages. Those at the end of the chain – ordinary citizens, small businesses, wage earners, tenants – tend to absorb the costs.
The first major group of beneficiaries consists of large corporations with scale advantages. Expanding reporting obligations, sustainability audits, supply-chain documentation, and compliance regimes are expensive but manageable for multinational firms. They have legal departments, compliance teams, data infrastructure, and the ability to pass costs on to consumers or squeeze smaller competitors out of the market. For small and medium-sized enterprises, the same requirements can be existentially threatening. The result is often market concentration rather than fair transformation. This is not ideology, but basic economics: the more complex regulation becomes, the more valuable size and capital are.
A second beneficiary group is the financial sector: asset managers, rating agencies, ESG data providers, and investment consultants. Once capital allocation is tied to sustainability metrics, a vast new market emerges for scoring models, data services, audits, and advisory products. These markets are highly profitable because they are recurring and depend on information asymmetries. Whoever controls the measurement framework sells continuous evaluation. In this sense, the commodification of “doing good” is not a side effect; it is the business model.
A third group consists of large consulting and auditing firms. Every new standard requires interpretation and implementation. The same actors who help shape frameworks often sell the services needed to comply with them. This creates a self-reinforcing ecosystem in which transformation generates permanent demand for expertise, certification, and verification.
A fourth beneficiary group is the technology and data economy. Digitalization is a central pillar of the Great Reset narrative: in administration, healthcare, education, mobility, finance, and supply chains. Those who provide digital infrastructure, cloud services, identity systems, payment platforms, and data analytics do not merely earn money; they gain structural power. They become indispensable. Dependency power is one of the most stable forms of power, because it is rarely perceived as domination, but as efficiency or necessity. The more societies digitize under the banner of resilience and sustainability, the more they depend on a small number of platform providers.
A fifth beneficiary group includes political and administrative actors who seek greater steerability. States prefer measurable systems because measurement enables control. A reset narrative that translates social problems into indicators, targets, and reporting mechanisms strengthens technocratic governance. This does not require malicious intent. But it shifts power: away from plural, spontaneous social processes and toward managerial oversight. Citizens are increasingly addressed not as sovereigns, but as variables to be optimized – in consumption, mobility, energy use, emissions, or health behavior. The more politics becomes management, the less democracy feels like self-determination.
Who, then, bears the costs? Not “the population” as a monolith, but specific groups: people without assets, without bargaining power, without flexibility, without access to cheap capital. When transformation operates through prices and standards, it hits those with no alternatives. Rising energy costs, housing costs, and mobility costs are inconvenient for the wealthy, burdensome for the middle class, and devastating for low-income households. Compliance burdens that are trivial for corporations can crush small businesses. Mandatory digital systems can create exclusion. In such a context, it is hardly surprising that many feel invited to “participate” in the transition, but not to benefit from it.
This dynamic does not require a secret conspiracy. It follows a familiar pattern of large, morally framed transformations. Legitimacy is derived from grand objectives – sustainability, resilience, inclusion – while profits accumulate in intermediate layers: standards, finance, data, and infrastructure. Costs are pushed downward. When criticism emerges, it is often morally reframed as backward, selfish, or anti-science. At that point, reform risks turning into a style of governance that substitutes moral pressure for democratic consent.
Russia and China do not participate in this process as cooperative partners in a shared reset ideology. The Great Reset is conceptually Western, rooted in stakeholder capitalism, global ESG frameworks, and transnational coordination. Russia largely rejects this model, emphasizing sovereignty and resource power. China adopts similar tools of digital control and long-term planning, but within a state-centric logic, not under Western normative language. There is no unified global reset – there are competing order models.
In the end, the crucial question is not whether the Great Reset is “real” or “imaginary,” but whether its logic is democratically compatible. A project can pursue valid goals and still produce problematic power effects. If sustainability becomes a technocratic apparatus that burdens citizens while enriching those who set and monetize standards, it will fail not because of denial or extremism, but because of lost legitimacy. Societies do not reject reform because they oppose improvement; they reject reforms that treat them as cost factors rather than participants.
Seen this way, the Great Reset is less a secret plan than an open power proposal: more coordination, more standardization, more measurement, more digital integration – justified by crisis and necessity. Whether this leads to a better world depends not on slogans from Davos, but on whether the gains of transformation are broadly shared, whether freedoms and democratic feedback remain intact, and whether there is the courage to openly name the winners instead of hiding them behind moral formulas.
Wenn man weiss ,dass Mao von Bush sen. Starthilfe bekommen hat,und er nach wie vor an seiner Heimatuni hochgelobt wird,wird auch einiges klar. Es sind im Übrigen die selben Eliten die sich für die fraz.Revolution,den ersten wie den zweiten Weltkrieg verantwortlich zeichenen.
Exzellent...! 🌹
The “Great Reset” – Vision, Power, and the Question of Who Benefits
The term “Great Reset” is so explosive because it fuses two very different levels into one. On the surface, it is a publicly articulated reform narrative promoted by the World Economic Forum after the COVID-19 crisis, aimed at rebuilding economic and social systems in a more “sustainable” and “resilient” way. Beneath that surface lies a power question: who defines what “better” means, which instruments are used to achieve it, and who ultimately benefits from such a transformation. This is precisely where the debate often derails. Some treat the Great Reset as a secret master plan for global domination; others dismiss it as harmless conference rhetoric with no real impact. Both views are wrong. The Great Reset is neither an all-powerful command structure nor an empty slogan. It is an agenda framework that resonates with governments, corporations, financial actors, consultancies, and international institutions – and therefore has real effects, not through coercion, but through alignment.
The “Great Reset Initiative” was publicly launched in 2020 in direct connection with the COVID-19 pandemic. The crisis was framed as a historic rupture, a moment to accelerate reforms that had long been discussed but only slowly implemented. In this sense, the pandemic served less as a cause than as a catalyst. The core ideas were not new: stakeholder capitalism instead of pure shareholder value, accelerated climate and sustainability policies, and a deeper integration of digital technologies into governance, markets, and everyday life. What changed was the urgency and the narrative of inevitability.
Crucially, the Great Reset is not a legal program. The World Economic Forum has no legislative power. But it operates where modern power is often most effective: in setting agendas, defining norms, and shaping what appears “reasonable” or “necessary.” This happens through metrics, standards, reporting requirements, benchmarks, and classifications. Once such instruments exist, they quickly migrate into regulation, investment decisions, procurement rules, and public policy. Even when participation is formally voluntary, it becomes de facto mandatory through capital markets and reputational pressure. Those who do not comply appear risky, outdated, or irresponsible.
This brings us to the decisive question: who benefits from such a transformation, and why does it feel to many citizens as if they are not among the winners? Large systemic shifts always create winners, because new rules generate new markets, new gatekeepers, and new dependencies. Those who define standards, certify compliance, control infrastructure, manage data, and allocate capital gain structural advantages. Those at the end of the chain – ordinary citizens, small businesses, wage earners, tenants – tend to absorb the costs.
The first major group of beneficiaries consists of large corporations with scale advantages. Expanding reporting obligations, sustainability audits, supply-chain documentation, and compliance regimes are expensive but manageable for multinational firms. They have legal departments, compliance teams, data infrastructure, and the ability to pass costs on to consumers or squeeze smaller competitors out of the market. For small and medium-sized enterprises, the same requirements can be existentially threatening. The result is often market concentration rather than fair transformation. This is not ideology, but basic economics: the more complex regulation becomes, the more valuable size and capital are.
A second beneficiary group is the financial sector: asset managers, rating agencies, ESG data providers, and investment consultants. Once capital allocation is tied to sustainability metrics, a vast new market emerges for scoring models, data services, audits, and advisory products. These markets are highly profitable because they are recurring and depend on information asymmetries. Whoever controls the measurement framework sells continuous evaluation. In this sense, the commodification of “doing good” is not a side effect; it is the business model.
A third group consists of large consulting and auditing firms. Every new standard requires interpretation and implementation. The same actors who help shape frameworks often sell the services needed to comply with them. This creates a self-reinforcing ecosystem in which transformation generates permanent demand for expertise, certification, and verification.
A fourth beneficiary group is the technology and data economy. Digitalization is a central pillar of the Great Reset narrative: in administration, healthcare, education, mobility, finance, and supply chains. Those who provide digital infrastructure, cloud services, identity systems, payment platforms, and data analytics do not merely earn money; they gain structural power. They become indispensable. Dependency power is one of the most stable forms of power, because it is rarely perceived as domination, but as efficiency or necessity. The more societies digitize under the banner of resilience and sustainability, the more they depend on a small number of platform providers.
A fifth beneficiary group includes political and administrative actors who seek greater steerability. States prefer measurable systems because measurement enables control. A reset narrative that translates social problems into indicators, targets, and reporting mechanisms strengthens technocratic governance. This does not require malicious intent. But it shifts power: away from plural, spontaneous social processes and toward managerial oversight. Citizens are increasingly addressed not as sovereigns, but as variables to be optimized – in consumption, mobility, energy use, emissions, or health behavior. The more politics becomes management, the less democracy feels like self-determination.
Who, then, bears the costs? Not “the population” as a monolith, but specific groups: people without assets, without bargaining power, without flexibility, without access to cheap capital. When transformation operates through prices and standards, it hits those with no alternatives. Rising energy costs, housing costs, and mobility costs are inconvenient for the wealthy, burdensome for the middle class, and devastating for low-income households. Compliance burdens that are trivial for corporations can crush small businesses. Mandatory digital systems can create exclusion. In such a context, it is hardly surprising that many feel invited to “participate” in the transition, but not to benefit from it.
This dynamic does not require a secret conspiracy. It follows a familiar pattern of large, morally framed transformations. Legitimacy is derived from grand objectives – sustainability, resilience, inclusion – while profits accumulate in intermediate layers: standards, finance, data, and infrastructure. Costs are pushed downward. When criticism emerges, it is often morally reframed as backward, selfish, or anti-science. At that point, reform risks turning into a style of governance that substitutes moral pressure for democratic consent.
Russia and China do not participate in this process as cooperative partners in a shared reset ideology. The Great Reset is conceptually Western, rooted in stakeholder capitalism, global ESG frameworks, and transnational coordination. Russia largely rejects this model, emphasizing sovereignty and resource power. China adopts similar tools of digital control and long-term planning, but within a state-centric logic, not under Western normative language. There is no unified global reset – there are competing order models.
In the end, the crucial question is not whether the Great Reset is “real” or “imaginary,” but whether its logic is democratically compatible. A project can pursue valid goals and still produce problematic power effects. If sustainability becomes a technocratic apparatus that burdens citizens while enriching those who set and monetize standards, it will fail not because of denial or extremism, but because of lost legitimacy. Societies do not reject reform because they oppose improvement; they reject reforms that treat them as cost factors rather than participants.
Seen this way, the Great Reset is less a secret plan than an open power proposal: more coordination, more standardization, more measurement, more digital integration – justified by crisis and necessity. Whether this leads to a better world depends not on slogans from Davos, but on whether the gains of transformation are broadly shared, whether freedoms and democratic feedback remain intact, and whether there is the courage to openly name the winners instead of hiding them behind moral formulas.
Wir sind in den Zeiten der "Vielfalt".
In dieser Zeit wurde nie besser sichtbar, daß Krieg sehr vielfältige Gesichter hat.