Mark My Words
A Most Unceremonious Exit
Now, I have been ejected from many a place in my lifetime—gambling halls, riverboats, even the occasional parlor where my storytelling was deemed unfit for polite company—but never have I been thrown out of the hallowed halls of Congress, and for that I count myself lucky. Representative Al Green, however, cannot say the same, for he found himself hoisted by the scruff of his political collar and deposited outside like an unruly schoolboy caught passing notes in class.
Congress, that grand theatre of American democracy where the actors never quite remember their lines but always remember their grudges, was in session to hear the words of President Donald Trump. Now, Trump is a man who, like the Mississippi River, runs deep in some places, shallow in others, and is prone to unexpected floods of rhetoric. As he held forth, filling the chamber with his familiar blend of triumph and grievance, Representative Green decided that silence was not, in fact, golden.
With a voice that could have carried across the mighty Missouri, he interrupted the proceedings, offering his own impromptu rebuttal in real-time. The reaction was swift. The sergeant-at-arms, fulfilling his ancient duty of maintaining order among the disorderly, saw to it that Green was escorted from the chamber forthwith.
The Noble Art of Protest—or Mere Theatrics?
Now, some may say that Green was simply exercising that most American of rights—the right to dissent, to stand against tyranny, or at the very least, against an evening of uninterrupted political posturing. Others may say that he was merely playing the part of the town crier, shouting into the wind of history for the sake of hearing his own voice echo back.
Protest in government is as old as government itself. Why, even in the time of Tom Sawyer, a boy knew that if you wanted to make a point, you had to do it in a way folks would remember. Whitewashing a fence? That’s just work. Convincing others that doing so is the privilege of a lifetime? That’s politics. And so it is with these grand displays of defiance. Whether Green’s outburst was an act of moral conviction or mere theatrics depends entirely on the eye of the beholder.
But let us not feign surprise that such disruptions occur. Congress, after all, is the nearest thing we have to a traveling circus that never quite leaves town. Some members astonish with feats of rhetorical acrobatics, others roar like caged lions, and still others, like Green, prefer to leap into the ring unannounced, hoping to steal the show.
The Divided House of America
What this incident truly reveals is not merely the temperament of one congressman but the temperature of the nation. America, at present, is like an old steamboat with half the crew rowing one way and the other half rowing in the opposite direction, all the while shouting that the river itself is to blame for their troubles.
Trump inspires both fervent loyalty and fierce opposition, and Green’s removal is but a footnote in the larger story of a nation that cannot quite decide whether it is coming together or coming apart. In times past, men have been caned in the Senate, duels have been fought over political disputes, and entire sections of the country have declared themselves unwilling to abide by the decisions of their elected leaders. In comparison, a lone voice shouting in protest is hardly a crisis, though it may be a harbinger of one.
In the end, Representative Green achieved what he likely intended: attention. Whether he changed any minds is another matter entirely. But if history is any guide, the only thing more enduring than political division is the certainty that such divisions will be loudly, passionately, and occasionally impolitely expressed. And for that, we ought to be grateful—for a silent Congress would be far more troubling than a noisy one.
