This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon: June 25, 2008 - A friend of mine stopped by the office the other day to ask me to sign a petition. Normally, I'm not much of a joiner, but it's hard to refuse a buddy so I asked him what we were protesting. Turns out I'm against the takeover of Anheuser-Busch.
Like most Americans, I hate to see another flagship domestic enterprise fall into foreign hands -- in this case, the Belgium-based InBev Corp. The economic fallout from this conquest figures to be particularly devastating in St. Louis, the current world headquarters of A-B. Good jobs with secure benefits will be lost and their absence will ripple throughout an already stagnant local economy as InBev seeks to streamline operations to offset about $46 billion in debt it will take on to devour the last major domestic brewer.
While signing the petition gave me a chance to vent some jingoistic bile, it also made me feel like one of those bewildered mourners who place teddy bears and helium balloons at the sites of mass killings. Another well-intentioned, but ultimately inane attempt to put a humane face on inhuman carnage...
I might as well have signed on to protest tornadoes. Corporations are legal entities fabricated for the sole purpose of generating profit. They employ people, but that does not make them human. The philanthropic activities they may engage in, the jobs they create, the goods and services they provide, all these are incidental to the central purpose of generating as much shareholder value as possible. In fact, their boards of directors have a fiduciary obligation to do just that.
During the '70s, Ford Motor Co. marketed a subcompact called the Pinto. Once production was fully underway, the corporation learned that the vehicle had an unfortunate tendency to explode when hit from the rear. Ford decided to continue manufacturing the flawed auto because it was determined that it would be cheaper to settle with the survivors of the occasionally immolated customer than it would be to shut down production and re-tool the line to make the car safer. That decision, although morally appalling, made perfect corporate sense because it maximized profit and that's what corporations exist to do.
In the current struggle, A-B is seen locally as the "good" corporation warding off the unwelcome advances of the "evil" InBev. Such misconceptions arise from the intellectual sin of anthropomorphism: the tendency to attribute human characteristics to non-human entities.
The anthropomorphic impulse is basic to humankind. Astronomers tell us that stars existed long before the advent of man. Only when people arrived, however, did hunters, bears, crabs and bulls begin to populate the night sky. The psyche projects its needs and wishes onto the tableau of an indifferent universe to make sense of existence and reassure itself of the hospitality of its environs. That which is familiar becomes comforting. In a world increasingly dominated by multinational corporations, it's only natural that we humanize these economic engines that govern so much of our lives.
Corporations, of course, encourage these misconceptions. They spend millions on PR departments and advertising campaigns designed to put a friendly, or even charitable, slant on the blind accumulation of profit. But at the end of the day, "responsible corporate citizenship" and "Louie the Lizard" are both figments of the same bottom line.
I am reminded of the plight of Sgt. Kyle Reese in the film "The Terminator." He was the rebel soldier sent to combat the automated killer for whom the film was named. Trying desperately to convince unbelieving civilians that their adversary is not human, he pleads, "You don't understand, it can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear." The Terminator was created to kill its prey. The fate of innocent bystanders was a matter of complete indifference.
In the current struggle, some will profit while others perish. A retired bottler with a cache of stock may realize a tidy profit from the takeover. A mid-level manager dependant on his job to feed his family may lose his house. In either case, the corporate titans feel no pity or remorse.
Should A-B manage to resist the takeover, much of the feared InBev down-sizing will probably take place anyway. Its board of directors will have to generate stock value comparable to the InBev offer to fend off lawsuits alleging that it betrayed its investors. To do that, it will have to slash overhead. That's the celebrated efficiency of the marketplace at work.
InBev CEO Carlos Brito recently authored an op-ed piece in the Post-Dispatch to reassure locals wary of the takeover. Among other soothing promises, he pledged that the Clydesdales were here to stay. He did not mention whether their continued presence would entail the services of a taxidermist...
M.W. Guzy, St. Louis, is a regular contributor to the Beacon.