The Capitol's Silent Honor: A Plaque Unveiled in Political Shadows
January 5, 2025, 4:28 pm
Location: United States, District of Columbia, Washington
Employees: 51-200
Founded date: 1955
In the heart of Washington, D.C., a battle rages not just in the halls of Congress but in the realm of memory and honor. The Capitol, a symbol of democracy, stands as a silent witness to the events of January 6, 2021. On that day, officers risked their lives to protect the sanctity of the building. Yet, as time drips slowly like a leaky faucet, a promised plaque to honor these heroes remains absent.
The fiscal 2022 spending law mandated a plaque to be placed on the West Front of the Capitol by March 2023. This was not merely a piece of metal; it was a promise—a promise to remember those who stood against the tide of chaos. Yet, as the clock ticks, the plaque remains a ghost, haunting the memories of those who served.
Democrats, including Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries, once believed the plaque was ready, waiting only for approval from House Republican leadership. But months have passed, and the silence is deafening. Speaker Mike Johnson’s office remains unresponsive, a closed door in the face of a pressing need for recognition.
For former Capitol Police Sgt. Aquilino Gonell, the absence of the plaque is a bitter reminder of the political gamesmanship that has followed the January 6 insurrection. He envisioned a moment where future presidents would see the names of those who defended democracy before taking their oaths. A moment where the weight of their words would be felt, reminding them of the consequences of their actions.
The political landscape has shifted dramatically since that fateful day. With Republicans regaining control of both chambers and Donald Trump eyeing a return to the presidency, the narrative surrounding January 6 is morphing. The urgency to honor the officers is overshadowed by a growing desire among some to rewrite history. The voices of those who fought to protect the Capitol are drowned out by the clamor of political maneuvering.
Rep. Mike Quigley, a Democrat from Illinois, voices a fear shared by many: that the plaque may never see the light of day. The notion of pardoning those who stormed the Capitol looms large, a double-edged sword that cuts deep into the fabric of accountability. Quigley’s frustration is palpable, yet he remains committed to pushing for the plaque’s installation, a beacon of hope amidst the political fog.
Behind the scenes, discussions continue, but the public silence is telling. The Architect of the Capitol, Joseph DiPietro, has stated that his office is ready to proceed, yet no directive has been given. The absence of action speaks volumes about the priorities of those in power. The plaque, a simple tribute, has become a pawn in a larger game.
The irony is stark. Lawmakers often tout their support for law enforcement, yet when it comes to honoring those who faced violence on January 6, the response is muted. The frustration of former officers is palpable. They see politicians who once clamored for selfies with them now retreating into the shadows, aligning themselves with a narrative that seeks to downplay the events of that day.
The Capitol Police union, led by Gus Papathanasiou, expresses concern not just over the plaque but over the lack of accountability for the failures that led to the chaos. Questions linger about why officers were not adequately prepared. The political narrative surrounding January 6 is being shaped, but the voices of those who lived it are often sidelined.
As the new Congress convenes, the religious landscape reflects a broader divide. A staggering 98% of Republicans identify as Christians, while only 75% of Democrats do. This “God Gap” shapes the way politicians present themselves. For Republicans, proclaiming faith is a badge of honor. For Democrats, the diversity of belief is both a strength and a challenge.
Protestant Christians dominate both parties, but the Democrats boast a wider array of faith traditions. The largest single Christian denomination remains Roman Catholicism, with Democrats holding a slight edge. Yet, the GOP is home to a variety of evangelical and Pentecostal traditions, creating a stark contrast in religious representation.
The presence of non-Christian members is growing, particularly among Democrats. Jewish representation remains the largest non-Christian faith in Congress, while the number of Muslims and Buddhists is on the rise. This diversity reflects a changing America, yet it also highlights the challenges of navigating a complex political landscape.
The struggle for the plaque and the shifting religious landscape of Congress are intertwined. Both represent the broader narrative of a nation grappling with its identity. The absence of the plaque symbolizes a failure to confront the past, while the diversity of beliefs in Congress illustrates the challenges of unity in a fractured political environment.
As the new Congress embarks on its journey, the call for the plaque remains. It is a call for recognition, for accountability, and for a commitment to honor those who stood guard on January 6. The plaque is more than a piece of metal; it is a testament to sacrifice, a reminder of the fragility of democracy, and a beacon of hope for a future where honor is not lost in the shadows of politics.
In the end, the fight for the plaque is a fight for memory. It is a fight against the tide of forgetfulness that threatens to wash away the sacrifices made on that fateful day. The Capitol stands, a silent witness, waiting for the day when it can finally honor those who defended it. Until then, the struggle continues, echoing through the halls of power, a reminder that some battles are fought not just in the present, but in the memories we choose to honor.
The fiscal 2022 spending law mandated a plaque to be placed on the West Front of the Capitol by March 2023. This was not merely a piece of metal; it was a promise—a promise to remember those who stood against the tide of chaos. Yet, as the clock ticks, the plaque remains a ghost, haunting the memories of those who served.
Democrats, including Minority Leader Hakeem Jeffries, once believed the plaque was ready, waiting only for approval from House Republican leadership. But months have passed, and the silence is deafening. Speaker Mike Johnson’s office remains unresponsive, a closed door in the face of a pressing need for recognition.
For former Capitol Police Sgt. Aquilino Gonell, the absence of the plaque is a bitter reminder of the political gamesmanship that has followed the January 6 insurrection. He envisioned a moment where future presidents would see the names of those who defended democracy before taking their oaths. A moment where the weight of their words would be felt, reminding them of the consequences of their actions.
The political landscape has shifted dramatically since that fateful day. With Republicans regaining control of both chambers and Donald Trump eyeing a return to the presidency, the narrative surrounding January 6 is morphing. The urgency to honor the officers is overshadowed by a growing desire among some to rewrite history. The voices of those who fought to protect the Capitol are drowned out by the clamor of political maneuvering.
Rep. Mike Quigley, a Democrat from Illinois, voices a fear shared by many: that the plaque may never see the light of day. The notion of pardoning those who stormed the Capitol looms large, a double-edged sword that cuts deep into the fabric of accountability. Quigley’s frustration is palpable, yet he remains committed to pushing for the plaque’s installation, a beacon of hope amidst the political fog.
Behind the scenes, discussions continue, but the public silence is telling. The Architect of the Capitol, Joseph DiPietro, has stated that his office is ready to proceed, yet no directive has been given. The absence of action speaks volumes about the priorities of those in power. The plaque, a simple tribute, has become a pawn in a larger game.
The irony is stark. Lawmakers often tout their support for law enforcement, yet when it comes to honoring those who faced violence on January 6, the response is muted. The frustration of former officers is palpable. They see politicians who once clamored for selfies with them now retreating into the shadows, aligning themselves with a narrative that seeks to downplay the events of that day.
The Capitol Police union, led by Gus Papathanasiou, expresses concern not just over the plaque but over the lack of accountability for the failures that led to the chaos. Questions linger about why officers were not adequately prepared. The political narrative surrounding January 6 is being shaped, but the voices of those who lived it are often sidelined.
As the new Congress convenes, the religious landscape reflects a broader divide. A staggering 98% of Republicans identify as Christians, while only 75% of Democrats do. This “God Gap” shapes the way politicians present themselves. For Republicans, proclaiming faith is a badge of honor. For Democrats, the diversity of belief is both a strength and a challenge.
Protestant Christians dominate both parties, but the Democrats boast a wider array of faith traditions. The largest single Christian denomination remains Roman Catholicism, with Democrats holding a slight edge. Yet, the GOP is home to a variety of evangelical and Pentecostal traditions, creating a stark contrast in religious representation.
The presence of non-Christian members is growing, particularly among Democrats. Jewish representation remains the largest non-Christian faith in Congress, while the number of Muslims and Buddhists is on the rise. This diversity reflects a changing America, yet it also highlights the challenges of navigating a complex political landscape.
The struggle for the plaque and the shifting religious landscape of Congress are intertwined. Both represent the broader narrative of a nation grappling with its identity. The absence of the plaque symbolizes a failure to confront the past, while the diversity of beliefs in Congress illustrates the challenges of unity in a fractured political environment.
As the new Congress embarks on its journey, the call for the plaque remains. It is a call for recognition, for accountability, and for a commitment to honor those who stood guard on January 6. The plaque is more than a piece of metal; it is a testament to sacrifice, a reminder of the fragility of democracy, and a beacon of hope for a future where honor is not lost in the shadows of politics.
In the end, the fight for the plaque is a fight for memory. It is a fight against the tide of forgetfulness that threatens to wash away the sacrifices made on that fateful day. The Capitol stands, a silent witness, waiting for the day when it can finally honor those who defended it. Until then, the struggle continues, echoing through the halls of power, a reminder that some battles are fought not just in the present, but in the memories we choose to honor.