by PHILIP PREVILLE and JESSICA HOWARD

Grinding the global economy to a halt is a daunting task for a bunch of long-haired, face-painted activists and a few raging grannies. But at least one businessman felt the impact of the Operation Salami blockade of the Montreal Conference at the Sheraton Centre on Monday. "He called us a bunch of idiots, saying that because of the blockade he lost a $28,000 contract," protester Christine Lewis told the Mirror.

Considering that the businessman's lost booty for the day is about $3,000 more than what the average Canadian earns in a year, he can cry himself a river. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there, buddy. That's what you get when you come face-to-face with a blockade of determined activists.

When the MUC riot squad intervened shortly after 10 a.m., they were confronted by 100 protesters sealing the doors to the hotel and another 400 peacefully chanting and picketing in support. Despite their rag-tag appearance and the carnival atmosphere, the activists were a well-trained and highly disciplined non-violent commando unit.

They resisted by covering their heads and going limp, never striking back. The cops were equally efficient in their mission, applying painful pressure behind people's ears, prying protesters from one another, and dragging them to the paddywagon. By high noon, 99 activists were behind bars. Twenty-four hours later, all but seven were released, charged with mischief, unlawful assembly and resisting arrest.

All just as Salami's organizers had anticipated. They turned a downtown streetcorner into a miniature police state, a foreshadowing of what they believe lies in the globalized future. "It's a powerful image: dozens of riot police arresting peaceful protesters, then escorting people in suits and ties into a hotel," says Salami co-organizer Jaggi Singh. "Globalization and the MAI are on the front page of every paper. It was a total success."

Despite the blockade, the Montreal Conference, an annual economic forum attended by government and business officials, went ahead as planned. But conference participants were forced to confront political opposition to globalization.

UQAM professor and conference participant Michel Librowicz tried to empathize with the protesters as he attempted to enter the hotel. "I used to be a garbage collector," he told them.

"You're not a garbage collector any more," a protester replied defiantly. Others peppered Librowicz with issues ranging from Chiapas to Indonesia. "The majority of people [inside the conference] dislike Suharto as much as you do," Librowicz replied. "But most of them have nothing to do with Suharto."

Librowicz may have been right, but he was missing the point--it wasn't about the people. Being opposed to the global economy is like being opposed to global warming: it's happening all around you, but it's totally abstract. So when a globalization conference comes to town, you take what you can get and make the most of it.