All talk, no action.

From humble beginnings, the World Economic Forum has become the premier talking shop, a fixture in the diary of CEOs, politicians, and other luminaries--from pop singer Bono to Peruvian novelist Mario Vargas Llosa.

Every January for the past 30 years, the state of the world has been debated and dissected in Davos, Switzerland, at an invigorating altitude of 5,118 feet. CEOs have reshaped the corporate world over early evening canapes; the wheels of commerce have been gently oiled. It's been networking with altitude. But this year Davos is coming down from its mountain.

In November, the WEF announced it was abandoning its spiritual home in Switzerland as the venue for its 2002 meeting. Instead of the remote ski resort, the world's movers and shakers are coming to New York Oily in late January. Officially, the move is motivated by the WEF's desire to show solidarity with the victims of terrorism.

New York City Mayor Rudolph Giuliani described the move as a vote of confidence in the city. But the decision to switch venues is just as much a vote of no confidence in Davos. It smacks of expediency.

Security costs of hosting the event at the resort would have been prohibitive -- significantly higher than last year because of fears of another terrorist attack -- and the Swiss were not keen to pick up the tab. More significantly, many people were unwilling to make the trek. The Forum sensibly took steps to avoid a flop.

Davos 2001, the event's 30th anniversary, may have been its apex. Some 7,000 delegates converged on the Alpine resort, which has an official population of only 13,247. The guest list included a phalanx of CEOs -- among them Cisco Systems' John Chambers, Vivendi's Jean-Marie Messier, and SAP's Hasso Plattner.

The WEF was hoping for an equally impressive turnout this year, but has now altered its agenda. Davos 2002 is being presented as a seminal event for a new business world order--as a rally in opposition to terrorism and an opportunity to examine its causes.

Davos' move across the Atlantic may shore up the summit's immediate prospects. But what began as a meeting of European executives to discuss global management practices has turned into a sprawling jamboree. Before the change of location was announced, many were wondering whether the monster meeting was passe. (A Swiss newspaper poll found that 28 percent of respondents thought the Forum should be abolished.)

They may be right. Security concerns will dominate the proceedings. Anti-capitalist demonstrations have turned WTO and IMF meetings in Seattle and Genoa into fortresses. And TV pictures of the haves barricaded behind closed doors while the have-nots protest outside, do little to promote the case for global business.

Moved to New York, the event is in danger of losing its identity. The isolated village was integral to the intense experience. Unencumbered by outside distractions, delegates formed a close-knit community. Manhattan offers diversions aplenty, and WEF will be just another conference.

What's worse, it remains a talking shop. The WEF claims to have moved from an events convener to a more active role, but there is little to show for it.

There are other tensions, too, including growing resentment that what began as a meeting for European executives is now dominated by corporate America. The choice of a U.S. venue will not soothe those concerns. A professor from one of the Continent's premier business schools complains that Europeans are being marginalized. The discussion of a homegrown European idea at last year's event fielded just one local CEO on the panel. The professor notes: "This raised the question, why aren't there more European CEOs and companies worth listening to?" Such concerns are prompting talk of a break-away think tank to rival WEF.

Where does this leave Davos? The Forum insists that the event will return to its spiritual home in 2003. This may prove difficult. For many, the novelty of making the January pilgrimage to the Alps has worn off, and without the movers and shakers there will be no talk, and certainly no action.

Des Dearlove and Stuart Crainer ([e-mail]) are founders of U.K.-based Suntop Media, and joint editors of the Financial Times Handbook of Management.