And what kind of country would look to people like William Bennett and Lynne Cheney for directions on culture?

This is another must read.

"The Most Emotionally Healthy Culture on the Planet"
A North American Falls In Love with Brazil
By John Perry Barlow

Minister Gil and Sweet Brazil

For the last year or so, I've felt a growing intuition that Brazil was beckoning me. Of course, in some senses, Brazil is always calling to those who love music, dance, the sensual pleasures, and open-heartedness. But this seemed more directed than that. With increasing frequency, I found myself meeting Brazilians who became immediately significant players in my life. It cropped up in my dreams.

By last fall, I had decided that it was about time for me to return to Brazil, and I started looking for a pretext, since I rarely go anywhere these days without what appears to be a reason and. generally, an airline ticket that someone else has paid for. By New Year's, my inner voices were muttering so much soft Portuguese that I had about concluded that that I would be forced to go there simply because I wanted to, and on my own dime at that.

When, in early January, I got a phone call from my old friend Julian Dibbell who wanted to know if I would be willing to meet with the newly appointed Brazilian Minister of Culture. I was headed to Cannes the following week to speak at a music industry conference called Midem. (This is truly the Trade Show of the Living Dead, but never mind that...)

Apparently, the Minister, a musician and political hero named Gilberto Gil, had read some of my writings on the economics of expression, had seen that I was going to be at Midem, where he was also appearing, and wanted to know if we could get together and talk.

I am now embarrassed to confess that, when Julian called me, I knew next to nothing about this remarkable man or his remarkable work or his remarkable life. Still, he was from Brazil, to which I'm favorably disposed, and he was an official to the new Lula government, to which I'm also favorably disposed. I told Julian I would be happy to talk with him.

A few days later I found myself sitting in the bar of the Hotel Majestic in Cannes, surrounded by a Fear-and-Loathing welter of music biz bottom-feeders, looking for the arrival of an official entourage. When Gil did appear, he was immediately obvious, but not because he came in force. In fact, the most notable thing about him at first was that he seemed like the least self-important person in the room. That, and a kind of light...
[more]

  thanks to Cursor

Gilberto Gil