The images of protesters scaling the walls of the Capitol and briefly occupying Congress will remain seared in our collective memories for decades. Some called it a riot. Others called it an insurrection. Whatever you call it, first and foremost it was a desecration.
The rioters desecrated the most sacred moment of our constitutional system: the moment when a nation of different parties, faiths and backgrounds comes together to recognize the next president — our next president. That is why it is too easy to treat this as an “insurrection” crisis. It is far, far more dangerous. It is a crisis of faith.
There were some truly dangerous people in this mix, agitators bringing pipe bombs and ropes. Groups like the Proud Boys and antifa have fulfilled these roles in violent riots on the left and right for years. However, the vast majority of protesters on Wednesday were nonviolent and nonthreatening. Indeed, if this was a real effort at insurrection, we can take great comfort that many of our homegrown revolutionaries came across as more Groucho Marx than Karl Marx. Those in the Capitol were spread across the spectrum, from mocking to menacing; you had various costumed characters but then guys in camo with suspicious backpacks. Yet the guy photographing himself with his feet on the desk of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi seemed more interested in Instagram than insurrection.
The ease with which protesters entered the Capitol was the most shocking aspect of an overwhelmingly shocking day. Despite reports in advance of plans to march on Capitol Hill, the Capitol police seemed undermanned and unprepared. Once inside, protesters seemed to have the run of the building. Many of them seemed as shocked as the members of Congress fleeing the House and Senate floors. This has happened before, although not to this extent. When I was a young congressional page, a protest by truckers led to one of the ornate Capitol doors being broken down, followed by a rampage through the halls of Congress.
The media immediately framed Wednesday’s disgraceful riot as unprecedented and unimaginable. Yet it was entirely all too imaginable. We have had four years of violent protests, including attacks on government buildings, members of Congress and symbols of our democracy. Former Attorney General William Barr was heavily criticized for clearing Lafayette Square last year after protesters seriously injured dozens of law enforcement officers, were injured or hospitalized themselves, burned a historic building, caused widespread property damage, and threatened to breach the White House complex. There were violent riots during the Trump inauguration, and a lethal attack on Republican congressmen playing softball. Indeed, this year began as last year ended, with attacks on federal buildings in Portland and other cities.
Many people viewed those violent protests against the police and the White House as “sedition,” including former Barr. I wrote previous columns criticizing such labeling of Black Lives Matter or antifa riots as sedition or terrorism. I view those labels as undermining free speech activities.
As with the Black Lives Matter protests, I do not believe most of Wednesday’s protesters were rioters, let alone part of an insurrection. As with the protests last year, some instigators clearly pushed for confrontations. Most, however, were there to express opposition to Congress’s certification of electoral votes in a presidential election they believe was stolen. I do not share that view — but it is the view of roughly 40 percent of Americans.
So if all of these people are not insurgents or terrorists, what are they? The answer is: They are faithless. We face a crisis of faith, not a crisis of revolution. Our Constitution is an article of faith. Indeed, this Republic was a leap of faith taken together by people of widely different backgrounds and beliefs. Yet a constitution, no matter how well crafted, is ineffectual if people lose faith in it or, equally important, in each other.
Our Madisonian system is designed to give everyone “skin in the game.” It is meant to bring factional interests to the surface. Unlike other systems that ignore such divisions, the Madisonian system forces those out into the open, in Congress, where they can be expressed and addressed. Systems that ignore such divisions explode from within, like so many of the earlier constitutions of France. Our system is based on a type of implosion in which those pressures are directed inwardly to Congress, where disparate factional interests can be converted into majoritarian compromises.
Wednesday’s violence is not what James Madison hoped for in the expression of factional interests in Congress; it was a bit too direct for a system based on representational democracy. However, that is precisely the point: The direct action taken reflects the same crisis of faith that was evident in Lafayette Park or on the streets of Portland. That is far more dangerous than a few agitators using a protest to commit mayhem. It is not anarchy but, rather, alienation that we should fear in our population.
For years, the public has shown a lack of trust and faith in our political system. There also is widespread rejection of the media, which once was a shared resource for information; the media has destroyed its credibility with years of openly biased coverage, including blackouts on stories deemed harmful to Democrats or the Biden family. And without faith in political leaders or the media, more than half of this country appears untethered from the political system. That detachment is a dangerous state for a participatory democracy.
We need to hold accountable those who committed violence in our Capitol. However, after we determine who stormed Congress and how they so easily succeeded in doing it, we have a far more difficult task to address. After all, an insurrection can simply be put down — but a desecration reveals something far more insidious and dangerous to a democracy.