This commentary off 'Common Dreams' seems to catch the pure essence of
our current US 'democracy' in action via 'compassionate conservatism'.
Since our rulers are 'internationalist' in outlook, they truly DO see
themselves as compassionate with their peasantry.

Why!, what would have happened if this same scene had taken place in
Mexico, Singapore, or Nigeria?       It's save to say that the author
would not be writing this descriptive essay for our entertainment and
education.       Then again, this scene COULD NOT have occured in those
far away lands.      The people already know what the author seems
amazed to have discovered.....     'Democracy' looks better on paper
than whenever it is ever practiced.

It shouldn't be too surprising to see the Democrats 'capitulation'.
In a beauty contest a few tears are cried, but then life goes on as
before.       The non-winner goes on to contine to look for modeling
contracts as agressively as before.      The Number Two will be expected
to try just that much harder in the future, to dazzle us with how
extraordinary they are.

The Democratic Party is fully accepting of its role as being the junior
partner in administrative affairs.      One could easily look at how the
Clintonite clones in Mexico turned over the office to Fox so graciously.
Zedilllo was straining to announce the 'loss' even before it had been
consumated.      Even now the PRI is blushing due to this embarrassment,
from public exposure over Ernesto's eagerness.

If the Republican gloating gets too out of hand,  Hillary will certainly
be there to torture their soles.       We can almost get a guilty
pleasure in looking forward to this future scene.      Careful, Dick
Cheney.

Tony
________________________________
The Real Thing:
Democracy as a Contact Sport
by Russell Mokhiber and Robert Weissman
 
A couple weeks ago, we received an invitation to attend an event at the
Library of Congress.

Coca-Cola was about to make an "historic contribution" to the Library of
Congress, and the Library, and Coca-Cola, were inviting reporters to
cover the event. We accepted the invitation.

We learned from the morning papers that the "historic contribution" was
a complete set of 20,000 television commercials pushing Coca-Cola into
the American digestive system.

Remember the one where the kid hands Pittsburgh Steeler Mean Joe Greene
his bottle of Coke, and in return, Mean Joe tosses the kid his football
jersey? Or what about on a hilltop in Italy where the folks start sing
"I'd like to buy the world a Coke and keep it company"?

The event was at the Great Hall of the Thomas Jefferson Building --
named after the Thomas Jefferson who, in 1816, wrote: "I hope we shall
crush in its birth the aristocracy of our monied corporations which dare
already to challenge our government to a trial of strength, and bid
defiance to the laws our country."

Anyway, we pull up at the appointed hour (7:15 p.m. on November 29,
2000) at the Thomas Jefferson building, and there's a traffic jam
created by stretch limousines blocking the entrance.

In addition to lowly reporters, the 400 or so guests included
ambassadors, members of Congress, corporate chieftains and other
dignitaries. Good thing we dressed up.

The Main Hall is this absolutely stunning room, with marble staircases.
A string quartet is playing. Waiters are serving Coke in classic
bottles. The food is fabulous -- lamb chops, trout, Peking duck. We rub
shoulders with the Ambassador from Burma.

The "aristocracy of our monied corporations," as Jefferson put it, had
taken over the place, and Coca-Cola wanted to make sure that everybody
knew it.

After all, Coke could have just donated the ads to the Library and left
it at that. But this wasn't about Coke's largesse. It was about public
relations -- whether the public would view the company as a racist
company (Coke had just agreed to pay $192.5 million to settle
allegations that it routinely discriminated against black employees in
pay, promotions and performance evaluations) or a junk food pusher
(consuming large quantities of sugared Coca-Cola has led to ours being
one of the most overweight generations in history) -- or instead, a
generous contributor to the Library of Congress.

James Billington, the Librarian of Congress, was called on to deliver
good things to Coke, and he did. He turned over the keys of the Main
Hall to Coke, and Coke decked the place out with its logo, stitched in
red beside the logo of the Library of Congress. Television sets were
placed throughout the hall, the better for the Ambassadors and members
of the Democratic Leadership Council to check out the commercials.

Billington was selling the soul of the library to one of the world's
most powerful corporations. In addition to the ads, Coke was
establishing a fellowship at the Library for the study of "culture and
communication" -- one fellow will receive $20,000 a year for the next
five years.

Gary Ruskin, director of Commercial Alert, was outside the event,
protesting. "It is not the proper role of the taxpayer-financed Library
of Congress to help promote junk food like Coca-Cola to a nation that is
suffering skyrocketing levels of obesity," Ruskin said. "It is crass
commercialism for James Billington to degrade Jefferson's library and
founding ideals into a huckster's backdrop."

But without shame, Billington introduced Doug Daft, the president of
Coca-Cola, who said that "Coca-Cola has become an integral part of
people's lives by helping to tell these stories." Nothing about profits.
Nothing about overweight kids. Nothing about racism.

After Daft spoke, the room went dark, and the ads ran on the television
screens. Nostalgia swept the room. When the ads were finished, the
lights went back on and the crowd cheered.

About 80 high school students, dressed in Coca-Cola red sweaters, filled
the marble staircases and sang -- "I want to buy the world a Coke."
Again, the crowd cheered. Doug Daft, standing downstairs, came back to
the microphone to continue his statement. We were upstairs at this
point, and we looked down at him and asked, in a loud voice -- "Why are
you using a public library to promote a junk food product?"

The room went quiet. Library of Congress police charged up the marble
staircase. Doug Daft put his hand to his ear and shouted back to us:
"What did you say?"
In a louder voice, we shouted back: "Why are you using a public
institution to promote a junk food product?"

The next thing we know, we are on the ground. The Library of Congress
police had tackled us. Again, the crowd cheered -- not for our question,
but for the tackle.
We were dragged downstairs, past the Ambassador from Burma, and hauled
outside, where police officers from the District of Columbia were
waiting for us.

Out of the Thomas Jefferson building came running a man from Coke. "This
is a private event," the man from Coke told the police. "I'm from
Coca-Cola."

At first, the police wanted nothing to do with the man from Coke. But
the man from Coke insisted. They huddled.
Apparently, the man from Coke didn't want us arrested for asking an
obvious question. Apparently, the man from Coke didn't want a public
trial. The man from Coke was standing up for our First Amendment rights
to ask his boss a question.

The police said we were to leave the grounds. And we weren't to come
back. Ever.

Russell Mokhiber is editor of the Washington, D.C.-based Corporate Crime
Reporter. Robert Weissman is editor of the Washington, D.C.-based
Multinational Monitor. They are co-authors of Corporate Predators: The
Hunt for MegaProfits and the Attack on Democracy (Monroe, Maine: Common
Courage Press, 1999).
(c) Russell Mokhiber and Robert Weissman