It’s very rare that you know in advance the time and place where history will be made. Often it’s only the reflective individual who can see the significance of an event in hindsight or the clairvoyant who can predict it.
Last Tuesday’s inauguration of Barack Obama as the 44th President of the United States of America was one of those rare exceptions. I knew that by standing on the west side of the U.S. Capital building at noon that day, I would be witnessing history as the first African-American was sworn in to the nation’s highest office. It was an opportunity too great and a moment too important to watch on television. It was something to be experienced in person.
This realization came to me Monday at lunch. With less than 24-hours until the oath was to be administered, I hastily made my arrangements. I agreed to depart with some of my hard-earned frequent-flyer miles and forgo sleep in order to get 12 ½ hours on the ground in Washington.
My view on the National Mall
Once I arrived in Washington, and with roads shut down across the city, I depended upon public transit to get me to the ceremony. As I boarded the bus at Dulles International Airport, there was a common sense of purpose amongst the passengers. We were all here to see the inauguration.
Aboard Metrorail, Washington’s subway system, spirits were high as we lurched slowly towards downtown D.C. We traded personal space and comfort zones for the promise that we would reach the National Mall. I exited the train at Foggy Bottom and headed south towards the Lincoln Memorial along 23rd Street. At each intersection, I passed squads of Army men and women who were deployed across the city to reinforce the more traditional law enforcement agencies. Security was tight and ever-present, but it did not overwhelm.
As I reached the Mall, teams of volunteers were on hand to act as people-greeters. “Welcome to the inauguration,” chirped one. “Thank you for coming,” says another. Handshakes and high-fives abound. I headed east along the Mall before finding a comfortable spot at the north-west corner of the Washington Monument, which is two kilometres from Capital Hill. To my left was the White House where a large white moving truck was parked in front of the South Portico while marching bands practice their manoeuvres for the upcoming parade on The Ellipse. I had no direct view of the Capitol’s west side, but a large Jumbotron in front of me allows me to see the ceremony.
The crowd is eager to show their enthusiastic support for the new administration. Appearances on the Jumbotron by Obama, Joe Biden or their wives elicit large cheers. Similarly, the crowd is unwilling to let the outgoing administration depart without noting their disapproval with sustained boos. When Marine One whisked overhead with George W. Bush onboard, many chose to salute the former Commander-in-Chief with a single digit.
The collective sense of anticipation peaked as Chief Justice John Roberts called upon Barack Obama to take the Oath of Office. Despite some confusion as to what that oath actually stated, those of us gathered on the Mall erupted in hoots and chants of “O-BA-MA!” at its conclusion.
We all soon fell silent to hear the new President’s inaugural address. His words were somber as he defined the challenges faced by the United States. However, his calls for cooperation and resolve were greeted with unqualified cries of support. Perhaps the longest and loudest cheer came after Obama said, “As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience’s sake.”
The Lincoln Memorial earlier in the day
With the speech concluded, I left with many others who tried to get a spot on the parade route. They would have little luck as the few spots that didn’t require tickets had been snatched early in the morning. Instead, we choose to wander the city; giving ourselves up to the flow of the crowd in order to soak up the spirit.
The throngs of merchants throughout Washington hawking Obama products should allay the concerns of anyone who feared capitalism might be restrained by an Obama administration. Anything that could bear the image of the new president or his name was sold on street-corners by fast talking men and women.
While I could understand the significance of this moment, as a white Canadian, I am sure I couldn’t fully appreciate what it meant to see an African-American sworn in as the American President. Certainly I felt the rush of history seeing this event occur 146 years after the Emancipation Proclamation was signed by Abraham Lincoln and 45 years after Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I felt a sense of anger that it had taken this long, but relief that the moment was finally arrived.
The inaugural celebration was more than the culmination of a successful political campaign or the start of a new administration. It was more than simply reflecting on the past. It was about articulating the kind of America this generation wants to pass to the next. It was more than history, but prologue.
