Capital cities, like courtesans, are traditionally bound by a certain societal hypocrisy that demands, though their souls be as black as pitch, they at least put on a pretty face for general consumption. So it is not surprising that in 1910, H.L. Mencken wrote that Washington, D.C. "has some claim to the title of the most beautiful city in the world." In those days, the leviathan of federal power had not grown sufficient in strength to display its true face – today it has.
When I came to Washington in that fabled time called "pre-9/11," the city had a certain bloated, pursy quality to it, not unlike the public officials, staffers and lobbyists who crowded the Hill. Back then, one was still free to march up the Capitol steps and into very bowels of the American of government. Once inside any building of the congressional complex, like some civics-book-based petting zoo come to life, one was allowed to observe senatorus doltus, bureacratus abdominous or secretarious steatopygous moving slothfully through their natural environs. On the whole they were tame creatures, though if you caught their eye, they possessed a specific hubris that infects all the "public servants." There air was one of both arrogance and insecurity. I often imagined it stemmed from the circumstance that, for whatever the reasons, these drones were collectively a people who "never fit in" in their home state; but now that they were about the people's business in cosmopolitan Washington, they assumed the haughty demeanor of those who have "arrived." Staring too closely had the disconcerting effect of making them think that you had pierced their mantle of faux importance and were able to apprehend that they were still spotty-faced teens with underwear firmly wedged up courtesy of their hometown classmates. All in all, the demeanor of the pre-9/11 "Hill-rat" hinted that not much separated the young staffers' backgrounds from the equally outcast Trenchcoat Mafia of Columbine infamy – with the notable exception that the Columbine monsters chose a nihilistic rampage of violence and intimidation over mere power-basking sycophancy. However, in post-9/11 Washington the distinction between bureaucratic toady and hooligan has blurred.
The new face of Washington is angular with a thick neck and a curled wire running into its ear. Its presence can be caught out of the corner of the eye like a phantasm. It is ominous and omnipresent. Like a scene out of Animal Farm, their brutish physical presence has allowed the porcine members of the farm to grow bolder in their control of the manor. This unmistakable face has even infiltrated the ranks of groups planning acts of protest and dissent. Though this face has slowly gained ascendancy over the past three years, it appears that its coming out party will be this month's Presidential Inauguration activities.
The actual inauguration ceremony of George W. Bush is of secondary importance – the more important event is a formal and overt display of force designed to make the masses cower. The haute couture of the festivities, with all due respect to the First Lady's designer, will not be grand ball gowns nor even "black ties and boots" but the S.W.A.T.-style assault jumpsuits. The special guest list of "military personnel, FBI agents in full SWAT outfitting, snipers on rooftops and scores of bomb-detecting dogs" has also been confirmed. Just as important as the seating arrangement and placing of name cards is the "inspecting miles of underground Metro and sewer tunnels, sealing manhole covers, closing streets and surveying the more than 450 downtown buildings." Naturally, as in planning any grand party, accommodations for out-of-towners must be made – in this case between 1,600 and 2,500 police officers from foreign jurisdictions and 4,000 active-duty combat forces. Finally, one should not forget to take pictures on the big day, so the Metropolitan Police Department will have its Big Brother system fully ramped up. (MPD has also announced that the spy cameras will awaken again for that most subversive and dangerous of events – the March for Life.)
Pageantry aside, the only joy greater than having the party that you want is the schadenfreude of keeping what you view as the riff-raff out of the party. Like the Neanderthal bouncers outside of chic Hollywood nightclubs, the "security force" will decide who gets in and who doesn't. Without "your papers," residents of the Shaw neighborhood will not be allowed ingress and egress from their own homes. Other "security" measures have had the (intended?) effect creating such inconvenience that law-abiding people plan to stay away.
Once upon a time a man said that if the terrorists forced us to change our way of life, then they will have won. But things have changed. This means that either the terrorists are winning or that these changes were not forced – but desired – by our leaders.
In either case, on Inauguration Day all of the nation will get a view of the new Washington, D.C. – America's jack-booted debutante.
January 15, 2005
C.T. Rossi [send him mail] is a law student in Washington, D.C.
