Many moons ago, I worked at the US Department of the Treasury. My official title was “Deputy Director of Scheduling” but that just meant I was one of two advance guys for the late Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill. It was a terrific job in that O’Neill hated the trappings of office; we got to travel the world ahead of finance ministers’ conferences, tell him where to go when he got there, and otherwise get out of the way.
Treasury was a great gig because of the real estate, too. My office looked directly out on the East Wing of the White House. Any day I was actually home, I could look out at East Executive Avenue and see into the neighbor’s yard.
Some mornings, usually one following a too-late evening in the Back Bar of the Old Ebbitt Grill, I’d look out at the East Wing and muse that some day all of what I surveyed would be ruins. Like the Romans before us, perhaps someone future tourists would come to marvel at the remains of the American empire. Not uplifting I understand, but these were the days when you could smoke inside, adding tobacco-laden insult to my alcohol-induced injury.
Historical Footnote: After 9/11, the Cabinet secretaries rotated being outside of Washington, DC. They could either spend a day at a ‘secure undisclosed location’ or they could travel out of town via US Air Force jet. I remember discussing O’Neill’s travel logistics with a colonel in the White House Military Office (WHMO) on the secure phone in the chief of staff’s office. As I looked out at the East Wing, where I knew she was sitting, I asked if we could just meet on East Exec. She agreed and we met between our two buildings to plan a trip to Columbus, Ohio.
End footnote.
We didn’t have to wait for some post-apocalyptic future for part of the White House to crumble under the jaws of an excavator. Nor had the British come back. No the destruction we’re witnessing, like my late nights on 15th Street, is self-inflicted. The Office of the First Lady, WHMO, and I assume the entrance to the Presidential Emergency Operations Center, went up in a cloud of dust to make room for a 90,000 square foot ‘ballroom.’
I went looking for something to scale with Trump’s new addition. An Olympic swimming pool is 13,448 square feet. A NFL football field is 19,200 square feet. The mausoleum of the Taj Mahal is 35,167 square feet. There are roughly 45,000 square feet in an acre. According to Corn Field Math (thanks to the Maryland Department of Agriculture) a farmer can fit about 30,000 ears of corn per acre.
I assume Trump’s Soviet-esque love of gigantism has a lot to do with his own shortcomings, psychological, emotional and physical. While the destruction of a historical building, the People’s House no less, for his own ego is indeed metaphorical, we’re not being honest enough with ourselves.
His change to the White House is at the end of more substantial changes:
What we look like to each other: We don’t see our friends and neighbors as we used to: As fellow Americans. Everything now comes with a filter: Red or Blue. It is difficult for politically active people to separate an individual from their voting habits. We’ve always been partisan, and staunchly so, but it was two teams on the same pitch. Now we’re enemies on an ever-changing battlefield.
What we look like to the rest of the world: For most of America’s hegemony, the rest of the globe knew where we stood, within a few degrees, on any given international issue. Trump’s time has shattered the post-war consensus (too long in the tooth, anyway) and replaced it with chaos. Our allies and adversaries alike wait for the next Tweet to see what American policy is today.
The sound of our voices: Two-thirds of Americans believe we’re on the wrong track as a country. We’re on the crest of a wave of anger, resentment, depression, and despair across generations and across the nation. While Trump isn’t solely responsible for why we’re here, he leads by example: He is a fundamentally unhappy, distrustful, and cynical individual. Our leaders point the way; in Trump’s case, down a dark alley.
Exposing the rot: Just as construction workers have probably found significant decay in the East Wing as they tear it down, Trump’s time in public life has shone a light on the fundamental rottenness within the American political system. While he didn’t use a bulldozer to expose the decay, it is now impossible to deny. While Democrats might be the ‘better’ option, they’ve refused to recognize this moment for what it is: Anti-establishment, populist, and angry for all the things we were promised now being either out of reach, or just seen as lies. Trump, of course, has no plan to replace the rot. Demolition is enough for him.
Tough Love
Yes, it is frustrating to see Donald Trump literally tear down a piece of America. But he’s been doing that for years. We should not conflate our anger, though, with how most other Americans feel about it. Their lives, as we’re seeing in real-time, are getting harder by the day.
To make a difference; to really put a big enough dent in Republicans’ standing to ensure a wipe out in 2026, we need to zero in on the fact that Trump’s ‘promises’ will never be made good. There is no shortage of examples. So far we have a shortage of will, resources, and attention-span. Conveying a political message (when you’re not Trump) takes work and persistence.
Tough Love Part II
The East Wing’s destruction should be yet another reminder that there is no going back to the magical ‘before times.’ The Clinton, Obama, and Biden eras are gone forever. The eight decades of America’s global dominance are on the wane because of too many bad decisions (or too much indecision) on the part of people we’ve called ‘leaders.’ Nothing is the same, nor will it ever be again.
NOW is the time we must look forward, not just to complain about Trump (though there is plenty) but to determine what we want the world to look like when this era is over. This will be years down the road. But the work must begin immediately. If we don’t want more monuments torn down, if we don’t want the last of our guardrails demolished, if we truly care about what we like to call ‘the American experiment’ then we’ll look for new leaders, new ideas, and new ways of doing things.
The past is gone. Learn from it but leave it where it belongs. Behind us.
I understand the notion of "leaving that behind", but it doesn't mean that we "let it go" as well. I get what is done is done, but there are remedies that can be tried to keep the ambush from continuing to roll over history.
We'll never, ever get back what was. The beauty seen in the White House and all that it represented historically.
We don't have any idea if he is going to keep to the style (even just the outwardly appearances) that the White House is in. Nothing has been submitted to the public.
Also, historically, he's short-cut corners in building things and short-changed the workers involved. Not only is there a travesty in the demolition of the Wing, there's no guarantees that it is going to be built to last.
It's panging the public because there are so many things that we would have choose to build, in our personal lives. Do we build on to a house that has 3 bedrooms to accommodate the 6th child coming into the world, or do we make sure that there continues to be food on the table. Don't get swept into the extreme of that choice, but the average person has to make very difficult decisions every day. We don't have the luxury to say "I want it so" and "so be it".
It's one piece of history for-ever gone; but, we know that there's more damages to be had in the upcoming future. One thing we're learning -- never underestimate the destroyer.
I catch your sadness. Or perhaps it's my own sadness touched by your words. Our group is working towards a better tomorrow, but we are just a small pool in a big puddle. But we are trying. The challenge is "vision" thinking. I know we can't go back--heck you can't even go back, to yesterday--so at present reaching out to neighbors and friends. How we reach a vision that satisfies everyone and their basic needs--food, water, shelter, rest and space--is the challenge. The old question is "when is enough--well enough?" Reed, just want you to know that we are with you. We aren't glorious but we are with you. Thanks, Reed, for everything you do to keep us on track. Take care.