Fred Hiatt's horror at the uglification of Washington reminds me of Mike Davis's depiction, in the "Fortress L.A." chapter of City of Quartz, of one regional campus of the security-state school of architecture. The maximum-security Willowbrook shopping center with police observatory conveniently upstairs from its library, the aerial reconnaissances, deployments, and offensives of the renowned L.A.P.D., and that boy tsar of real estate, the gated archipelago, all attest to the unceasing innovatory power of America West, South Coast division. Indeed one cannot name another portion of our sweet land of liberty more devoted to the pursuit thereof. In New York it is interpreted as the freedom to compete, in riches and in rags; in Chicagoland, as the freedom of labour (that is, just enough for Big Ten tuition for Brad and Todd); in San Francisco, as the freedom to be oneself, to reinvent oneself, or, best yet, to shed one's self; but in Los Angeles the Damned, freedom is primarily understood as freedom of property: the house, the car, and most saliently, the body. The preoccupation with physical security now manifested in the nation's government, financial, and transport hubs has a precursor in the Southland of California; our latter-day War on Terror bears a marked resemblance to one region's War on Crime.
The quest for freedom is the subtext of Davis's book: through automobility and house ownership, a region was built on the premise and promise of personal, physical freedom: freedom as security through isolation. With the help of citizen revolts against taxes and density, and proactive police programs, that particular flavor of freedom has endured. Freedom's ring, once an abstract (ap)peal that drew men to battle for a common good against imperial tyrants, now resonates as a call to arms for the defense of one's person against itinerant and dispersed enemies. (Itinerant and dispersed, that is, unless, of course, at a certain time those enemies happen to be strangely concentrated in a certain Middle Eastern country.) It has been remarked elsewhere that the likelihood of encountering terrorism firsthand is less than the chance of being struck by lightning, and much less, for that matter, than being killed by an automobile. Though of course cars don't kill people, people do. Which cognizance emboldens me to implore the reader, to reflect on our own, homegrown, everyday terrorism.