Springsteen in D.C. turns private dread into public hope

Springsteen in – A Springsteen show at Nationals Park becomes a turning point for a writer who says a decade of dealing with Donald Trump has eroded their sense of independence. In the congressional offices around them—quiet, guarded, and preoccupied—music and dissent land lik

It was raining in Washington on Wednesday night. the kind of driving weather that usually makes you want to get out of the way. Instead. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band rolled into Nationals Park anyway—and by the time the crowd of about 40. 000 people had packed in. the feeling in the air had shifted.

The writer describes Springsteen’s performance as an act of recognition as much as entertainment. Nils Lofgren. one of the guitarists in the 19-piece E Street Band. later called it a “brutally honest and melodic statement of Truth. ” and the writer says that bluntness was exactly what they had been missing after years of living in a divided. reactive political life.

The contrast the writer insists they can finally measure isn’t about a single policy. It’s about a change in the emotional climate of the country since their childhood in the 1960s—when the White House’s East Wing was a gaping hole after an attack. when the politics of their day carried the constant shadow of violence. and when public life felt like it was being contested openly.

They point to what they say is different now: the executive mansion’s East Wing has that rebuilt-from-destruction look; a “circus-like cage arena” is being built on the South Lawn for an upcoming UFC event; Donald Trump is described as a convicted felon and the writer also mentions his proposed “slush fund” for those who participated in the Jan. 6 insurrection. They add that the country has wars in Iran and Ukraine. “lazy malfeasance” dominating Congress. daily acts of revenge Trump enacts against James Comey. E. Jean Carroll, and other “imagined enemies,” multiple assassination attempts, and a wider atmosphere of distrust.

The writer anchors that sense of historical memory with details from the 1970s and Vietnam-era America. Twice in a span of 17 days in 1975. someone tried to kill President Gerald Ford. including a woman named “Squeaky” who ran around with Charles Manson. described here as the mastermind of two politically motivated mass murders. They also write that Richard Nixon. while not convicted. was “every bit the criminal Trump shows himself to be.” The Vietnam War. they say. dominated headlines for years. They remember multiple assassinations of politicians and moral leaders. and the Kent State massacre. when the National Guard fired on a group of unarmed college students protesting the Vietnam war.

But what the writer says crystallizes the difference is the presence—or absence—of common ground.

They recall a neighboring Nixon fan attacking Crosby. Stills. Nash and Young’s “four dead in Ohio” by calling the group a bunch of “Commie hippies” out to destroy the United States. The oldest son in that family, similarly conservative, disagreed and still loved the band. Music, they write, was a common thread. When Edwin Starr sang “War. ” they say everyone understood it was worth absolutely nothing—even those who supported war felt that way.

Then the writer goes to Congress on Tuesday, searching for something more concrete than nostalgia.

The House. they write. wasn’t in session. which they describe as an easier time to check in on staff who don’t have their overlords hanging around. They were especially curious about members of Congress who have posters outside their offices showing appreciation for the Capitol Police and law enforcement—signs that include “Back the Blue” and “Defend Police. ” positioned alongside Charlie Kirk banners like those seen in high school student council races.

Their question was direct: did those who proclaim their love for police support Trump’s proposed slush fund for insurrectionists who either pleaded guilty or were convicted by a jury of their peers for assaulting police and the Capitol on Jan. 6?

In office after office, they say, no staffer commented. One said. with disdain. “Whatever the president is for. is what we’re for.” When the writer reminded them that Texas Sen. John Cornyn and Kentucky Rep. Thomas Massie—both recently defeated in their respective primaries by opponents endorsed by the president—voted with Trump more than 90% of the time. the staffers. the writer says. only sighed and offered no answer.

In one office, the conversation turned to music. “Springsteen is in town Wednesday, are you going?” one staffer asked. The other replied. “I can’t like him anymore. ” adding that “He’s got TDS.” Both nodded at the mention of “Trump Derangement Syndrome. ” and the writer says they quietly sighed. In the writer’s telling. it wasn’t just about taste—it was about discipline. the idea that even if you like someone’s music you cannot admit it because your president doesn’t.

That, the writer argues, is the difference between yesterday and today: independence being lost “not from force, but by acquiescence.”

On the Senate side, the writer watches young reporters standing in line to renew press passes. They describe the talk as largely practical—what to wear. where to eat. how “overwhelmingly jazzed” they were. and whether they had spotted a member of Congress. One reporter spoke with awe about seeing a member of Congress recently; another. describing themselves as a “supervisor. ” discussed the best nearby coffee spot and the best shoes for walking through the Capitol and congressional offices.

In that version of events, accountability doesn’t come up. The writer says there was no talk about holding powerful people accountable for their actions—only the mind-numbing chatter of getting along.

The banter grows loud enough that a staffer steps into the hall and tells them to quiet down because people are working in adjacent offices. The group, the writer says, went quiet like scandalized schoolchildren. “Mean,” one of them said. Another held up their phone and described what was going on to friends and followers.

A veteran reporter waiting for a press pass picture, the writer reports, muttered, “I don’t know if I’m more upset because they were talking about nothing or because they got quiet so quickly.” Another reporter nearby answered with a blunt assessment: “They just have no idea why we’re here.”

The writer connects that mood to what Trump recently proposed about forcing federal workers to sign nondisclosure agreements. They argue the president wants federal employees who work for the American people to no longer be responsible to the public—only to him—and that. combined with what they call the ignorance of young reporters. will “kill the Fourth Estate.” The writer even uses a stark phrase: “Democracy ended. Game over.”.

Even so, the writer says some Republicans still see the moment clearly. A Republican congressman told them, “We’ve been speaking about the president’s danger privately, but we need to speak out publicly,” while keeping that speaking out “privately.”

The writer describes the danger as political as well as moral. They write that those outside now. like Cornyn and Massie—both of whom supported Trump and were replaced after primary defeats—may carry water for Republicans who have grown to loathe the president they once loved. while also making “a mess” for Trump’s agenda before they leave. They add that there’s no guarantee candidates who won Republican primaries with Trump’s help can win general elections.

They return to the same question: who will help?

In their view, the press and Congress have failed. They mention Megyn Kelly’s recent admission about Trump’s corruption. But they say culture’s divisive nature has kept anyone from capturing a national sense of revulsion many share about Trump.

That is where Springsteen becomes more than a concert. The writer credits what they describe as “the righteousness of rock n’ roll. ” quoting Springsteen’s own framing of it as something social and moral. The writer says Springsteen is following a social awareness from the music of their youth, plus Springsteen’s own past.

Born in the U.S.A., the writer writes, still sounds haunting listening today—just as it did when Springsteen sang it in 1984.

After the show, the writer recounts a moment that seems to bridge personal memory and national frustration. During nearly three hours of a 27-song set—covering gospel. rock. and Woody Guthrie-inspired American folk music—Springsteen stopped the show four times to speak directly to the audience. Nils Lofgren later explained, “Bruce thought it was important to say something, to do something.”.

Springsteen said to the crowd: “If you’re feeling helpless, if you’re feeling hopeless, if you’re feeling betrayed, if you’re feeling frustrated, if you’re feeling angry, I understand.” He added, “That’s why we’re here tonight.” Lofgren explained later that “You could hear a pin drop.”

Springsteen continued: “We needed to come to Washington and feel your strength and your hope and your faith.” He said, “We needed to bring to your city some strength and some hope and some faith.”

The writer says Springsteen talked about the darkening American dream. the mental pain of being distanced from neighbors. a corrupt Justice Department. and how Trump has “trashed the American ideal” to protect his rich and powerful friends. In the writer’s telling, they believe that if Woody Guthrie were alive today, he would have joined Springsteen.

After the show ended, the writer says, concertgoers left the stadium to the sounds of Guthrie singing “This Land Is Your Land.”

Backstage, the writer reports, Springsteen talked about the need to “Say something. Do something. Sing Something. Hell, that’s what I do.” The writer adds that some concertgoers have printed it on T-shirts.

They also insist the concert captured more than dissent—it captured defiance. “Springsteen yelled for the crowd to sing their hardest so they could be heard at the White House several blocks away. ” the writer writes. and the E Street Band rose to the occasion with what the writer calls an unbelievable amount of energy.

The writer describes it as the first time in a long time it felt like the time of civil unrest of their youth.

Springsteen began the night talking about the disintegration of voting rights, the rise of hatred, and a war in Iran that seems to have no end in sight. Then, the writer says, he broke into Edwin Starr’s anthem and sang loudly: “War, what is it good for?”

They write that they got goose pimples on their arms. and that the song triggered a flashback to Nixon’s resignation. For the first time since Trump became president—while rain poured down. while fans cheered. while Springsteen sang—the writer says they thought Trump might be at the end of his leash.

Afterward, members of the E Street Band gathered to celebrate at a local hotel bar, and the writer says they had the opportunity to attend as well. Some, including Lofgren, are as old as Springsteen. But the writer adds that many were never around for the Vietnam War.

They describe marvelling at their energy, saying it seemed to feed off the audience and then infuse it with even more power. “Bruce is a unicorn,” the band members said, praising his dynamic performance. Still, the writer reports the question that stayed with them: could any of it make a difference?

One answer came quietly, offered as a hope rather than a promise: “Well, I certainly hope we make Trump miserable enough to leave,” several of them said.

The writer smiled—and closes with a simple wish: “That would certainly be nice.”

Bruce Springsteen E Street Band Nationals Park Washington DC Donald Trump Jan. 6 insurrection Capitol Police John Cornyn Thomas Massie press passes Congress voting rights Nancy? (not mentioned) Iran war