A view from the District

Posted on July 22, 2010

I’m afraid I’ve left it a few days since my New York post. The delay was partly due to my first ’silly bugger’ moment, dropping my phone on the first night here, leaving it on the deck (translation: posh patio) at the home of my guide, Paul. Not noticing till later that night, while a thunderstorm crashed over DC, I spent the next day in dread that while it might be found it must be drowned.

I was lucky. I am once more within range of the network and not relying on the laptop for wifi access. But the three days since my arrival have been so packed that it has been hard to collect my thoughts, let alone commit them to text.

Now it’s Wednesday evening, halfway through my DC stay, and I have lots to say. I’ve met with NGOs, campaigners, government officials, politicians, lobbyists, and community activists way beyond the issues which brought me here. This might take several posts.

First, some general impressions of the city. I thought at first that the contrast with New York was fooling me, as the difference is hard to come to terms with. Above all, Manhattan’s eye-popping scale was what struck me. As I passed each intersection another urban landscape of breathtaking vastness came into view. Not only the landmarks like Central Park, the Empire State Building and the Williamsburg Bridge create this impression – the whole city’s landscape could have been inspired by the Culture novels. At street level, I felt an almost dreamlike sense that this was a vast stage set, and the millions of people around me were simply hired for the weekend to play the role of New Yorkers for my benefit. After this, anything else would look like a sleepy suburb.

But after these three days I’m convinced – Washington (or DC as I’m learning to call it; the former refers to the political machine rather than to the District) isn’t really a city at all. It has instead the look and feel of a small town (the picture above was taken just minutes’ walk from the city centre), but one which just happens to have the capital of the United States of America squeezed into the middle of it, where the modest high street ought to be.

As a planned settlement it also shares the sterility of many ‘new town’ communities in the UK and elsewhere. There are few bars, few small businesses or independent shops in the centre (aside from the oddly plastic Chinatown). Walk just a few minutes from the commercial and political heart of the city and you’ll find low-rise leafy suburbs, rich and poor but both with a certain charm… I could even call it twee. But it doesn’t feel urban. I haven’t seen small town America yet, but I suspect those who live there would find much that’s familiar in these residential areas.

Of course the central part of the city, the part which seems to have landed from another world and settled into space which shouldn’t exist in this little town, includes the theatrical set piece of the National Mall. (By coincidence as I walked toward it, Mr Cameron’s parade of limousines thundered by on the way to his meeting with the President)

It’s impressive (even if the lawn could perhaps be better cared for) and in particular I appreciated the very steep steps leading up to the Lincoln Memorial, which ensure that as the face of this modern Zeus comes finally into view the visitor’s heartbeat is already high and thumping in the throat.

These are the great monuments of this very Nationalistic nation; the flag is everywhere, from subway trains to clothing, as well as the verbal reminders of Americanness in adverts, on signage and in everyday language.

It’s a puzzle, this nation where flag and fervour hold such power but where government is almost a dirty word. Such expectations of the nation to achieve global pre-eminence and to project global power, but such hostility to any increase of their own government’s authority to act.

The inspiring words of Lincoln inscribed inside his memorial can be read as endorsement of either half of this ideologically polarised society, but the words of George C Marshall a short walk away I found more definitely chilling:
“We are determined that before the sun sets on this terrible struggle, our flag will be recognised throughout the world as a symbol of freedom on the one hand, and of overwhelming force on the other”

The American passion for something called freedom is compelling. We all have our idea of freedom, though it may be freedom from something quite different for each of us. While the contradiction of small-state Nationalism is merely puzzling to me, the idea that freedom must be achieved – that it can only be achieved – at the point of a gun is deeply disturbing.

In my next post, I’ll try to set out my perception of the way these aspects of the American character impact on the issues I’m here to study, climate change and equality.

1 Comment

1. Patrick,

   Great stuff! More of this please . . . I know I know, you’re busy and I’m sure enjoying it all, but your blogs are valuable and interesting. Be curious to know if the Megrahi affair is having any impact on your visit – it’s reared its head in a big way again at home.
   I know what you mean about the chilling Marshall quote – it brings to mind that hideous phrase ‘full spectrum dominance’.

   Keep enjoying!

   Dad

   Comment by Dave Harvie — July 22, 2010 @ 6:22 pm