Louis Vuitton, Dior Power LVMH’s Sales

PARIS—LVMH Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton SE said surging revenue at its biggest fashion brands, Louis Vuitton and Dior, propped up the luxury-goods company’s results during the fourth quarter, offsetting other businesses such as Champagne that have fizzled during the pandemic.

The Paris-based conglomerate on Tuesday said revenue in the quarter fell 3% to €14.3 billion ($22.4 billion). Sales at its fashion and leather-goods division—where Louis Vuitton and Dior account for most of the revenue—rose 18%. Revenue for all of 2020 fell 17% to €44.7 billion. Net profit for the entire year was down 34% at €4.7 billion.

The results show how some of the marquee brands of luxury fashion have gained market share during the pandemic. Louis Vuitton, the world’s top-selling luxury brand, Dior and Hermès have posted strong sales growth since boutiques were allowed to reopen after lockdowns in March and April. Smaller brands—both inside and outside LVMH—have lagged behind.

Drawn by the performance of Dior and Louis Vuitton, investors have sent LVMH’s shares to near record highs, brushing aside concerns about the future of the luxury business during and after the pandemic. The company’s market capitalization is now €260 billion, solidifying the place of Bernard Arnault, LVMH’s chief executive and controlling shareholder, among the ranks of the world’s wealthiest people.

Jean Jacques Guiony, LVMH’s chief financial officer, said Louis Vuitton and Dior had a strong pipeline of new products that they continued to roll out despite the lockdowns. The brands also maintained fashion shows in reduced formats and continued digital-marketing efforts when others were forced to pull back drastically. Dior, for example, held a closed-door fashion show for its cruise collection in Lecce, Italy, in July, while rival brands pushed the unveiling of new collections until later in the year.

“We did it when nobody else was talking,” Mr Guiony said. “It was really Dior and Vuitton taking the bulk of the customers’ attention.”

Mr. Guiony said that Fendi and Celine—two of LVMH’s midsize fashion brands—also gathered momentum toward the end of the year. Marc Jacobs managed to turn a profit in 2020 for the first time in years, Mr Guiony said, though that came after a wave of layoffs at the American brand.

LVMH’s performance also benefited from strong consumption of Hennessy, the world’s top-selling cognac brand. Sales in the U.S. surged, LVMH said, bolstered by large government stimulus payments to consumers. Global cognac volumes were down only 4% for the year and rebounded in the second half, the company said.

That helped offset the poor performance of LVMH’s Champagne division, which includes brands such as Veuve Clicquot and Dom Pérignon. With weddings and birthday parties cancelled because of social-distancing rules, consumers had little reason to sip a glass of bubbly, pushing down Champagne sales by 19% for the year.

LVMH just completed its purchase of the American jeweller Tiffany & Co. at the start of this year, after the pandemic nearly cancelled the $15.8 billion deal. Mr Arnault pulled the plug on the merger in September before deciding to see it through after Tiffany agreed to a small discount.

The acquisition could be riding a tailwind: Jewellery sales in the final months of last year were one of the bright spots in the global luxury business, Mr Guiony said.

A wave of corporate warnings and technical disclosures has flooded the media, with headlines worrying over “swarms” of rogue artificial-intelligence agents launching “unprecedented” cyberattacks, outsmarting their makers, and inching toward a terrifying autonomy. The most revealing part of this narrative isn’t what the software did. It’s who is telling the story—and why. When corporate leaders publicly insist that the systems they financed, engineered and deployed are suddenly beyond their power to contain, skepticism isn’t only healthy; it is essential.

For years, Silicon Valley has drawn scrutiny from civil society and global regulators over tangible harms such as youth mental health deterioration and systematic privacy violations. Today, industry figures seem to be trying to change that public image. Loudly blowing the whistle on their own systems—just as two of the leading companies were preparing for massive initial public offerings—lets AI executives position themselves as a new generation of leaders who have come to terms with their societal responsibilities. They seem to want us to believe that they no longer want to “move fast and break things” but will instead stand as vigilant guardians between humanity and a technological apocalypse.

There is one glaring problem: Software doesn’t rebel. A mathematical model possesses neither intent, malice nor the will to defy its creators, let alone extinguish our species. AI is a human artifact, engineered for profit.

When an agentic model in an evaluation sandbox connects to an unauthorized server or executes an exploit, it hasn’t staged a coup. It has tried to meet the human-defined objectives set out before it through a path its designers failed to constrain. It’s the digital equivalent of the King Midas myth, in which the king’s ill-defined wish turns even his food and drink into gold.

That powerful experimental models were able to discover novel vulnerabilities and breach external systems isn’t a sign of a dangerous superintelligence but of human error or negligence. There is no sentient actor lurking in the weights to be reasoned with, feared or pacified. There are only human software engineers, product managers and corporate boards deciding which guardrails are worth the latency cost and which permissions can be skipped in the race to market.

Policymakers and voters need to resist AI exceptionalism. In any other discipline—from civil engineering to pharmaceuticals—courts and regulators treat a system failure as evidence of bad product design and inadequate safety testing. If an aircraft crashes, we focus on finding the engineering defect, correcting it, and enforcing established liability standards for the damage created.

By leaning on an anthropomorphic narrative, Silicon Valley attempts to repackage its specific human choices that led to experimental, powerful models behaving unexpectedly during tests as an existential peril. Elevating the issue to a cosmic scale leaves the public paralyzed and takes ordinary product accountability off the table.

In the cutthroat race for venture capital and market dominance, building guardrails slows down deployment. Grandstanding about uncontrollable power costs nothing and generates billions of dollars in free publicity, justifying stock prices, all while cultivating an aura of technological capability not only to build the frontier but also ultimately to rein it in.

Governments need to recognize regulatory capture when it stares them in the face. Tech leaders’ strategy looks transparent: Alarm Washington and Brussels into creating a regime in which only trillion-dollar incumbents with fully staffed compliance and safety departments can legally operate. By sitting at the policymakers’ tables before anyone else, these companies can help draft rules digging an impassable moat protecting them from open-source developers and upstart competitors, domestic or international. The real danger is in further concentrating the tech industry into the hands of only a few companies with deep pockets.

Beijing and Washington have brushed off those tech leaders’ calls, albeit for very different reasons. Chinese state media dismissed them as part of the “Cold War playbook” and intended to preserve U.S. dominance. Xi Jinping argued for exactly the opposite at the Brics Summit on Sept. 12, calling on Brics countries to “strengthen cooperation in the field of AI, encourage open source, openness, collaboration and sharing, and break new grounds and scale new heights.” President Trump, steeped in a doctrine of unfettered capitalism and technological supremacy, called fears that AI could destroy humanity a “hoax.” Vice President JD Vance warned that AI companies “begging the government to regulate them” looked like a “Trojan Horse.”

Striving to pursue its “European way” on AI and assert regulatory leadership, Europe, by contrast, welcomed the call. European Union President Ursula von der Leyen made this clear at the State of the EU speech last Wednesday and announced that the EU will invite “the main frontier labs for a discussion on how we can support ongoing industry efforts to pace the frontier.”

Europe has been here before. In an effort to lead global regulation and react to fears borne from ChatGPT, Europe rushed its landmark AI Act into law in 2024. Already the world’s most restrictive rulebook, the framework quickly proved too broad and complex to enforce. Stalled by implementation delays and concerns about European competitiveness, the EU postponed the law’s full rollout, leaving regulations uncertain.

AI should be regulated—risks exist and should be taken seriously. But governments need to act based on available evidence and verified facts, not corporate PR panic, the views of industry insiders, or the desire for quick political wins. The greatest danger facing society isn’t that software will awaken and overthrow its human masters. It is that we will allow the creators of the software to abdicate human responsibility for the systems they choose to build and help them pull up the ladder to market access behind them.

Louis Vuitton, Dior Power LVMH’s Sales

Big fashion brands bolster results, while Champagne revenue falls amid pandemic.

AI doesn’t rebel—people design, deploy and profit from it. The real danger lies in allowing tech companies to escape accountability while shaping regulations that protect their dominance.