The District of Colour Bar

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By Matthew Engel

Guardian
January 21, 2003


It is commonplace in the media to use the names of capital cities as shorthand for the opinions of a country: "Washington thinks this"; "London agrees"; "Paris doesn't". And so on. It is an odd formulation in any case, especially when you're talking about Washington. What is Washington? Even the leading citizens have some trouble grasping that.

It is possible to read books with Washington in the title that make you imagine the entire city is given over to cocktail parties with senators dropping confidentialities under the chandeliers. Indeed, it is possible to live here for years and believe that.

For this could be the most racially segregated city in the world. It is certainly the most segregated I have seen since Johannesburg circa 1976. Of course, all cities are economically stratified in a manner that produces de facto segregation. But in Washington this takes on extreme form. The whites live in the north-western sliver of the city: a wealthy corridor stretching down to the city centre. The rest of the place, with small (though, it is true, growing) exceptions, is overwhelmingly black.

Guidebooks always warn first-time visitors about the quirks of Washington's grid system. The city is divided into four quadrants, and every address is repeated four times. So if you have to go to the corner of, say, 21st and K Streets, it is necessary to specify whether you mean the NW, NE, SW or SE quadrant. But if a white visitor gets into a taxi, the driver just drives straight to the north-western version. Why the hell would you be going anywhere else?

The second oddity is that this is the least democratic city in any allegedly free country. The District of Columbia was never given the same rights as the states: in the early days of the republic, the federal government, uncertain of its status, wanted a small patch to call its own, which at the time was probably fair enough.

As the city grew, it became absurd, indeed outrageous. The population grew to 800,000 (it is under 600,000 now), but since they were mainly black people or white liberals and thus staunchly Democratic rather than Republican, logic and justice went out of the window. In 1961, when the US was a mere 185 years old, the city finally gained the right to vote for president. A form of home rule followed, though Congress still has unique rights in bossing the place about. Since for many years DC was run by the ridiculous Mayor Marion Barry, there was a case for maintaining those rights.

Barry has gone; the city is now quite well-run. But in fact DC voters have been losing rights. They are not allowed any senators (if they were, the Republicans would lose their majority) and the "delegate" to Congress had her limited voting rights taken away when the Republicans gained control there in 1995. Bill Clinton, in a Clintonian gesture, put the city's campaigning licence plate, "Taxation without Representation", on the presidential limousine; George W Bush took it off again.

The third point about Washington is its status as reputed murder capital of the world. There were 482 murders in 1991, which was one way of maintaining population decline. Over the past decade, that figure has halved - more cops, fewer young males thanks to demographic trends, less crack cocaine, more prosperity. But in 2002, it rose again to 262, the worst figure since 1997.

It is expected to keep going up, due to another population spike (the grandchildren of the post-war baby boomers) and the scheduled release from prison of some old-time baddies. Cities as big as Boston have a tiny fraction of those rates. There are seven police districts in DC: in a typical year, two or three of the murders take place in the second district, which covers the north-west.

Yet it is only a short drive from supermarkets selling Roquefort and organic granola to those selling plantains and yams, and from banks willing to throw cheap money at home-owners to the Check 'n Go, which will loan you $50 for 14 days at an annualised rate of 547.5%. Some of these areas are pleasant, laughing neighbourhoods; some are flat-out murderous.

Some are now getting very mixed, like U Street, where white gays, dinkies and singles are taking over. Part of the attraction is Ben's Chili Bowl, an institution whose "chili half-smokes" knock the pants off the canapés at the more fashionable salons. Nizam Ali, the original Ben's son, helps run a group called NoMurdersDC - not fewer murders, note, but none at all.

It is a splendidly ambitious idea: making the point that these are not faceless statistics being killed, worth their two paragraphs in the Post, but real people who matter. At one of their meetings a 17-year-old girl got up and said 12 of her friends had been killed. "I've been to more funerals than birthday parties," she said. A few months ago, the world became obsessed by the sniper. These are daily snipes, happening all the time, about three miles from the White House.

But Washington's votes don't count, and its people are largely invisible.

Now where were we? Democracy in Iraq, was it?


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