WASHINGTON, DC -- Sitting in the House gallery during the bailout bill deliberations was a little like sitting in a Roman coliseum -- there was blood, there was drama, it wasn't clear who the public wanted to win, and the whole scene was backlit by the sense of a beleaguered empire.
On my right, up in the visitors' seats, were a retired British couple who lived off their investment interest. If the bill failed, they said, they feared not only personal loss, but serious long-term damage to the UK financial markets. "England pretty much follows what you all do," the husband said. His voice sounded sanguine. Like the president and House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, he thought the bill would pass.
Not five minutes later, Rep. Maxine Waters (D-CA), who was moderating the proceedings, called for a vote. The left half of the room pretty much said Aye; the right half of the room pretty much said Nay. From up above, the vote sounded even, but without even blinking an eye Waters announced, "The ayes have it!"
A roar on the floor. A call for a present vote. Over the rostrum, a list of the representatives lit up, and a tally of the votes and a 15-minute clock began ticking. For a while the ayes and nays were neck-and-neck, but by the last three minutes the nays began leaving the ayes behind.
"It's going to fail," said the British wife, and she anxiously plucked her husband's sleeve.
The bill did fail, of course -- at least this incarnation. And so after a week of uncertainty, the situation is still uncertain. The closeness of the vote and the equivocating language the representatives used -- Rep. John Boehner (R-OH), who reluctantly encouraged his fellow Republicans to support the bail, called it a "mud sandwich" -- suggests that the solution to the problem is not obvious.
"I didn't know what to think about it even before today," said Charlene Liechty, a Michigan woman attending a Christian conference in DC this week. "Our country's in a lot of trouble. We're just praying that God can give some remedy."
Anna Luchtenberger, a young woman from New York City visiting a friend, admitted she didn't know what to feel. However, the situation seemed like it could have been avoided. "I don't have stocks or bonds or anything, but I've been reading up on this, and it seems between this and health care the free market has completely failed us," she said. "This seems like the natural, logical progression of events. Shouldn't someone have seen this coming?"
"It sounds like a real problem," said Thomas Walkan, a New Zealander finishing a stint as a camp counselor in New Hampshire. "I know the Superfund in New Zealand has already lost a lot of money."
(There are all sorts of fascinating characters in the House gallery seats, including half a dozen Amish teenagers, a high school debate team, and families of all shapes and sizes: if Congress wants to know what Main Street looks like, all they have to do is lift their eyes to the balcony.)
Outside, a half dozen Code Pink protesters were the only ones who seemed to respond with any certainty that the bill's failing had been a good thing. "A win for Main Street, a loss for Wall Street!" they shouted into megaphones.
"It's mind-boggling," said Medea Benjamin, one of Code Pink's founders. "Politics make the strangest bedfellows. Who would've thought Code Pink would be cheering conservative Republicans? This is the only time I've ever been on the same page as my mother-in-law."
