After a long morning at the Supreme Court, I crossed the street and headed into the Capitol building. We had all received Senate gallery passes from Amy Klobachar, and a number of us decided to use them to try to see the first day of impeachment. After a five hour wait to enter the Supreme Court, we expected a similarly long line for the Senate. In actuality, the line was relatively short, and we were quickly told that we would be let into the gallery itself at 1:45, just 45 minutes after the trial began. We waited for about two hours, and were let into a room to check our bags and coats at about 1:45 as promised. Unfortunately, just before that, we were told offhand by one of the employees that it would be at least another hour before we would actually enter the gallery. This was frustrating. People had planned out their whole days around this, and nobody had thought to inform us that the time we were told we would enter the gallery was actually the time we would begin the process to enter the gallery.
Once we began the actual process to enter the gallery, I began to notice a number of people with special passes that allowed them to skip all lines. We asked what they were and were told that they were provided to diplomats and people who work for or know senators personally. The diplomatic passes made sense, but the personal passes immediately struck me as deeply undemocratic. Having access to our elected politicians, and being able to watch them at work are important to the process of democracy. Access to Congressional galleries allows us to understand more fully what the people we elect are doing, and decide who to elect in the future. Allowing special access to people who simply know the Senators is antithetical to that process. That system not only allowed people who had a personal connection to a powerful person to skip the line entirely, but actively impeded the ability of the public to see democracy in process. Over ⅔ of the gallery space was empty, and reserved for diplomats and close connections, who were also the only ones allowed to stay for more than 30 minutes before being asked to leave. The prioritization of these people seemed to imply that wealth and influence were valued and given special access above the ordinary people. The contrast was stark in a room intended to represent a government for and by the people.
The ticket that got me into the Senate gallery
We entered the gallery to hear Adam Schiff give his opening arguments. His words were careful, yet damning. As he remarked on a member of Trump’s team telling the House to “get over it”, I began to remember once again both how severe and how blatant the president’s abuses of power have been. I was deeply impacted by the words he said next, an earnest warning to the Senate that should they fail to impeach, they must do so knowing that they will be bringing about not just the end of democracy in the United States, but very likely the end of democracy in the world. He also condemned Senate Republicans for assuming that each generation being “more free” than their parents was the result of natural law, and reminded them that they would ensure that every young person would be worse off than the generation before if they voted against impeachment.
It is an odd feeling to sit in a room, and be almost certain that the majority of those in power would openly choose to defy their duty, ignore clear evidence, and ultimately choose to keep a man who has threatened democracy and humanity at every level in power. Usually, I am angry at Senate Republicans as a group. But in that room, I felt overwhelming sadness instead. Nothing can prepare you to sit in a room hearing someone warn those in power that democracy as we know it will crumble if they continue as expected, and knowing that they will allow it to happen. I couldn’t help but feel as though I was watching every hope I had for a peaceful future being robbed from me.
Clearly, impeachment was hard to watch. But in the difficult realities of impeachment, and in the face of what feels like impending, and unending doom, I was faced with the same choice we have all been faced with a thousand times. I can sit back and watch the life and world I had wanted fall out of reach, or I can work to make a better world a reality. Yes, it is true that we are very likely about to see irreparable damage done to this country, but it is also true that the government does not decide everything. We have many choices to make as individuals, and we are always able to look for the ways that we can make this world a kinder, more empathetic, and more equal place. I will not tell you how to do this, there are far too many ways to count, but we can’t be reminded enough that many small acts of good can help limit the pain and suffering of others, and ultimately leave this world better than we found it.