'PLOTTING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD': HANNE AND MAURICE STRONG AT HOME
Ontario Hydro's investment in Lima, Peru, has been hit by a blackout after a bomb attack - fuelling critics' claims that the utility's $74 million investment could go up in smoke.
Six transmission towers were destroyed in a bomb attack outside Lima last week, plunging the capital into darkness and forcing a rationing of electricity, Progressive Conservative energy critic Leo Jordan said yesterday.
Citing Canadian embassy sources in Peru, Jordan said four of the downed towers were about 100 kilometres east of Lima while two were near the city, to the north and south.
All were destroyed within 20 minutes and Maoist Shining Path guerrillas are believed responsible.
Jordan said the bombing proves Hydro made a major mistake in buying part of the Peruvian company delivering electricity in Lima.
The government and Hydro chairman Maurice Strong 'were duly warned that attacks on utilities were commonplace,' he said in a news release, adding the government should now realize 'just how unsound Hydro's investment is.'
Energy Minister Bud Wildman last month asked the Ontario Energy Board to examine Hydro's international spending, especially the risk associated with foreign investments such as the Lima venture.
Hydro officials were unavailable for comment. - L.P.
We quote from the recent issue of Maclean's Magazine (10 October 1994):
The sunrise was just beginning to explode over the Colorado range that the Spanish conquistadors named Sangr6 de Christo, the Blood of Christ, riddling the sky with rivulets of luminous crimson. Here the gilded domes and spires of a unique spiritual community, aimed at gathering the world's major religions in one place, are rising. That quixotic - and some same quirky - experiment is the
singular vision of Hanne Strong, the striking Danish-born of Ontario Hydro's controversial chairmen. As many as 49 Buddhists come to train at the feet of U.S. Zen master Michael Baker-Roshi. There's no place in the world were there are so many different religions represented,' he says. 'Really, it's Hanne's vision. None of us would be here without her.'
'I just felt that I'd been here before,' she [Hanne] says. On the next flight in, a Ute Indian spiritual
leader told her that his ancestors had called the place the Bloodless Valley, because no wars had ever been fought there. The Hopi had used it only for sacred ceremonies. Three months after her arrival in 1978, as she tells it, a wild-haired 80-year-old named Glenn Anderson, dubbed 'the Prophet' by the locals, knocked on her ranch house door with the words: 'So you've finally
come.' He proceeded to spell out a vision he had received, she says, that a woman like her would preserve all the world's faiths in the valley against some imminent doomsday with Henry Kissinger and former US secretary of defence Robert McNamara jetting into the valley not far from NORAD's underground bunkers in Colorado Springs, rumors mushroomed that Strong and his pals were plotting to take over the world from their secret mountain stronghold intimations of a
coming armageddon hover over her scheme.'