Sign up for the Slatest to get the most insightful analysis, criticism, and advice out there, delivered to your inbox daily.
This time on Jan. 6, Capitol workers shoveled a thin blanket of snow outside a quiet building. Members of Congress entered the building without event. There was heavy security, but only a lone protester: a man who held a sign that read “Fuck Donald Trump.” Notably, nobody was trying to hang Mike Pence.
That single protester is an eerie contrast to what I watched unfold inside and outside the building four years ago. I had been to Trump’s defiant speech that day and followed as ostensible protesters stormed the building with congresspeople still inside. I followed and watched as euphoric rioters smashed windows and furniture, looted what they wanted, and smoked weed with their feet kicked up on tables. It was a mix of supporters from every corner of the country, all unified in their intention to stop the certification of Joe Biden’s 2020 election win, among other sinister aims. In a statement Monday, former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi called the rioters a “terrorist mob” who left behind broken statues, bloodied police officers, and hallways smeared in debris.* Despite the attempts to whitewash what happened—effectively, it seems, for many voters across the country—no one who saw it for themselves will ever forget it.
This Jan. 6, the iconic white domed building was fortified by 6-foot-tall fencing that has since surrounded it, the most visible remaining scar from that day. Inside, there was no commotion, no audible dissent, no dramatic walkouts. Members of Congress filed in for a joint session, exchanged pleasantries, and settled into their roles. Vice President Kamala Harris entered the chamber and, joined by House Speaker Mike Johnson, presided over the certification of Donald Trump’s election.
It was a scene meant to project stability and unity, yet it felt almost theatrical in the way everyone acted out their roles. At the start, I thought I noticed a flicker of a tremor in Harris’ voice, though it’s possible I couldn’t help but project onto her the weight of the moment, passing control of the country to someone she once described as a “fascist” and likened to the criminals she once prosecuted in her role as California’s attorney general. As she spoke, cameras captured J.D. Vance looking on in the chamber.
I wondered how the people I documented rioting in this very building four years ago might feel. Roughly 1,500 rioters were charged, the majority of whom have pleaded guilty or been convicted. Hundreds of them have been sentenced to prison. I wondered how many of them would see this as the peaceful transfer of power it’s supposed to be, a rebuke of sorts, and how many would believe that this moment was simply an affirmation of their protest. Trump has called the people convicted as part of the violent mob “political prisoners,” victim to a “very nasty system.” He has vowed to pardon some of the rioters on his first day back in office—a move that Sen. Chuck Schumer called “wrong, reckless, and an insult to the memory of those who died that day.” I realized I knew the answer: Most of the people I watched trample the Capitol must think they’ve been vindicated, within their rights to flip the table when they didn’t get their way, destined to be remembered as heroic by history.
By the end of the nearly 30-minute session, Harris’ demeanor was hard to read. She called out the totals: 312 electoral votes for Trump, and her own 226. The Republicans in Congress cheered Trump’s win, while Democrats remained silent. I found something unsettling in their quiet acquiescence: It seemed less a demonstration of higher principles than an act of submission. The political party that had helped stage and enable an insurrection didn’t learn any lessons; the one that didn’t had no real response left in the chamber.
Perhaps that’s just how it had to be. But as Harris dissolved the joint session and shook Johnson’s hand, the image of the lone protester outside lingered in my mind. In that moment, the tiny show of defiance seemed like all we had to show for this country’s willingness to resist a man that tried to seize the presidency by force. When Trump lost, he refused to accept the outcome. On Monday, Republicans in Congress applauded his return to power.
When I left the Capitol grounds four years ago, I never imagined that Trump could be welcomed back in that way. But it’s clear that half the country wants him there and believes that the system can still work. The next four years will put that to the test. Trump has already made comments about how his supporters will never need to vote again. Time will tell how far he’ll take that. Monday’s calm may be remembered as a brief reprieve before four years of chaos, or it may be remembered as the day America stood by, refusing to see what its new president has promised. Neither outcome seems just.
Correction, Jan. 7, 2025: Due to an editing error, this piece originally misstated that Capitol Police officers were killed Jan. 6. Officer Brian Sicknick died the day after the riot of natural causes, although the medical examiner noted that injuries Sicknick sustained during the Jan. 6 attack “played a role” in his death.
Thanks for signing up! You can manage your newsletter subscriptions at any time.
Slate is published by The Slate Group, a Graham Holdings Company.
All contents © 2025 The Slate Group LLC. All rights reserved.
