From one rat to another, a report from Bilderberg Bornholm

Free beer on the Conservative’s boat. Free steak at Confederation of Danish Industry. So far, so evil. Soon, these white clad monstrosities will be among the lab’s ruling class

I was at Bilderberg recently. Not the one at Hotel Mariott that was attended by billionaires, executives and global leaders, but the one hidden in plain sight on the sunshine island of Bornholm. Danes are good at that: hiding the obvious. Which leads me to suggest that the Queendom of Denmark actually is a full-scale laboratory – a confined testing ground with a small homogenous population, well developed of infrastructure and a pretense of political representation. And if Denmark is a testing ground, we are the lab rats.

This is no news to tech-geeks as various electronics are habitually pre-launched and tested on the Danish market. Ditlev Engel, former CEO of wind energy producer Vestas, spelled it out a few years back when he called Denmark a full-scale lab for implementing renewable energy.

This raises an obvious question: If Denmark is a testing ground for various electronics and terra-forming companies, is there any reason to believe that we are NOT a testing ground for a range of other large-scale population experiments carried out in more or less plain sight?

The answer is no. This nation is the global spearhead of a horizontal limbo, which asks “How far can you go?” in the on-going gradual conditioning of the world population by corporate interests.

A decade ago, former liberal prime minister Anders Fogh Rasmussen openly declared war on so-called ‘social-democratic values’. He orchestrated a massive shift in our common attitudes and effectively dismantled our famous Danish solidarity. He was awarded the prestigious position as head of Nato.

Current PM Helle Thorning-Smith is working on the next stage of this experiment by pushing an ‘arbeit macht frei’ set of values and showing us that there really is no difference between the red and the blue pill – between the left and right wing. For this service, she will probably be awarded a prestigious post in the EU. So far, so good. Or evil.

No empathy, lots of greed

Anyway, back to Bornholm’s Bilderberg, commonly known as ‘Folkemødet’ – the People’s Meeting. After its fourth incarnation this July, the annual meeting differs from the other Bilderburg by being held in plain sight. It has quickly become THE PLACE TO BE for all the nation’s somebodies. It’s like Roskilde Festival’s media centre, times a zillion.

Setting off in a bus from Copenhagen, I can sense it right away. Groups of young academics from the central administration mix with political organisations and NGOs. One of them, on the seat behind me, is in conversation with an elderly lady from Jutland. He is elite. She is a commoner. One of the people. He is going to talk about banking. She is going to spot celebrities.

“You know,” she confides, “it’s amazing. All the people you know from TV. You can see them walking by on the street.”

We get on the ferry in the Swedish port of Ystad and are confronted by more weirdness. Everybody’s got a company tab. People buy dozens of ridiculously expensive open-faced sandwiches, and top them off with loads of expensive sweets. This is clearly the lower end of the higher echelons.

Upon arrival in Bornholm we mount a bus, this one heading towards the northern town of Allinge. I sit across from a group of young executives from the youth wing of the liberal party, Venstre. They are all around 20. All clad in white. Besides their youth and limited horizons, their main feature is a lack of empathy and a lot of greed. I eavesdrop while they agree that the worst people they can meet are animal-welfare activists, or people who want them to stop eating meat. Or raise their taxes. The trip is their reward for services rendered. They are going to Folkemødet to get everything for free and make out with the kids from the other political parties. Free beer on the Conservative’s boat. Free steak at Confederation of Danish Industry. So far, so evil. Soon, these white clad monstrosities will be among the lab’s ruling class.

As I walk through Allinge, the picture solidifies. I witness an exercise in systemic reproduction and control. The elites from the creative, political and civil society identify and negotiate the agenda, while the wannabe youngsters are indoctrinated into the game’s rules. They have a meeting and the people pay the bill. But as opposed to Kissinger’s Bilderberg, this 2.0 version purports the illusion of inclusion. We get to watch in awe.

But the secret is that the elite are lab rats too. They are just fed a bit more grain and occasionally get to wear a white lab coat.


By Claus Ankersen

Claus Ankersen is an internationally acclaimed writer, artist and performance poet.

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