Occupation without representation in D.C.

In a quiet neighborhood of northwest D.C., my favorite Siberian Husky dragged me to a small grove of trees under the setting sun for a good long sniff. He rooted around in some fallen twigs, took particular interest in a patch of tulips near the trash can, and suddenly jerked his head toward the street as an MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush-Protected vehicle) thundered past. Ah, yes. The National Guard is in town.

Washington, D.C. has always carried a peculiar burden; it is the nation’s capital, and a symbol of democracy for the world, yet its people live without the full rights of representation. Many bay windows and storefronts bear signs that read “Statehood for D.C.”, and the locals are fiercely protective of both the independent status of D.C. and their right to be counted.

Now, that long-running injustice has taken on a new form. As President Donald Trump’s order to send the National Guard into D.C. approaches a third week, the city is experiencing what can only be described as occupation without representation. It is unnecessary, performative, and a dangerous overreach of federal power. The takeover echoes military theatrics in Los Angeles that began in June (and that are still underway), and fits squarely within this administration’s pattern of governing by spectacle rather than substance.

The White House has defended this step with a questionable narrative about “restoring law and order” in the capital. The official statement invoked a string of violent incidents: an embassy staffer killed in May, a congressional intern shot in June, a Senate aide beaten in July. (This may incidentally be the first time in history the National Guard has been called in to address a whooping.) They present these incidents as proof of a city spiraling out of control, one that demands federal intervention. But facts tell a more complicated story. Crime in D.C. has been progressively lower year over year. Homicides, carjackings, and assaults — the very crimes Trump and his allies cite as justification — are trending downward. There is no surge that matches the alarmist picture painted from the podium. The crime wave, it turns out, exists more in rhetoric than reality.

This dissonance is not new. Authoritarians and those with authoritarian ambitions have long relied on the politics of fear. If the people are not afraid, make them afraid. If they do not see a crisis, manufacture one. Trump has mastered this art, weaving violent anecdotes into a narrative of collapse that positions him as the singular savior strong enough to impose control. (see also: calling for the execution of the Exonerated Five.) Behind the strongman act is something more fragile: fear itself. Racism is often rooted in fear and the perception of personal inadequacy. When those fears collide with the realities of governing a nation within a city where Black people make up more than 40% of the population, what emerges is the hostile show of force. What we see is the posturing of someone desperate to look big, scary, and dominant. The convoys of armored vehicles are less about protecting lives than proving alpha status.

The importance of D.C.’s ethnic makeup became evident when one of the first orders from the new administration to the D.C. Mayor was to remove the paint on the street that spelled out “BLACK LIVES MATTER” across from the White House. If she didn’t? Congressional Republicans would withhold federal funding.

The consequences of the takeover extend far beyond symbolism. They are economic and immediate. In addition to the actual cost of sending troops to do a lot of standing around in the subway stations and taking selfies with local police, D.C.’s small businesses are struggling under the weight of this occupation. Restaurants reported financial losses right away, with customers opting to stay home rather than navigate roadblocks and checkpoints. Hotels and Airbnbs are fielding waves of cancellations.

This is the paradox of Trump’s “law and order”: the presence of troops on corners, ICE agents sweeping neighborhoods, and barricades across highways has created neither law nor order, only hostility. As always, the hardest hit are Black and brown neighborhoods, where checkpoints choke off not only freedom of movement but also the flow of commerce. In a city already battling inequities in wealth and opportunity, the militarization of daily life is an economic gut punch that will reverberate long after the convoys leave.

Once upon a time, Americans could expect presidential statements to carry a tone of solemnity, even when disagreeable. That era is gone. Official communications now often drip with snark, exaggeration, and dishonesty, mirroring the demeanor of the current convicted felon serving as Commander in Chief. Trust erodes when the highest levels of government treat governance like performance art and intimidation becomes the main tool of persuasion.

This is not about crime. It’s about control. D.C., much like Los Angeles, has become a stage for a broader struggle over who holds power and how that power is projected. The military is being deployed not as a last resort but as a political prop.

This occupation is a slap in the face to the people of Washington, D.C., who are once again reminded that they are subjects of a system that extracts taxes and obedience while denying them representation and now even autonomy over their own streets. It raises the specter of what democracy becomes when its most visible spaces are patrolled not by the people’s protectors but by the president’s enforcers.

It may be hard to see from a distance, but Iowans should care. If it can happen in D.C., it can happen anywhere. If a president can sideline local leaders, send in outside troops, and choke the life out of neighborhoods under the pretense of control, then no community is truly safe from that same overreach. This is not the small government and home rule we were led to believe are basic conservative principles. This is oppression.

Sofia DeMartino is a Gazette editorial fellow. sofia.demartino@thegazette.com