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S22 office today. Obviously, it hasn’t been easy.

Colleagues, today has been ugly. When I came to the floor this morning, I planned to talk about the lesson of 1801 because I am kind of a history nerd, and I wanted to celebrate the glories of the peaceful transition of power across our Nation’s history. It feels a little naive now to talk about ways that American civics might be something that could unite us and bring us back together.

Now, 1801 blew everybody’s mind all over the world, by the way. John Adams loses to Thomas Jefferson, and Adams willingly leaves the Executive mansion and moves back to Massachusetts, and Jefferson peacefully assumes power. People all over Europe said: That must be fake news. Those must be bad reports. There is no way any Executive would ever willingly lay down power. Yet Adams, in defeat, did something glorious to give all of us a gift.

I wanted to celebrate that, and it feels a little bit harder now. This building has been desecrated. Blood has been spilled in the hallways. I was with octogenarian Members of this Chamber who needed to have troops and police stabilize them to get down the stairs at a time when a lot of our staffs were panicked and under their desks and not knowing what was going to happen to them.

It was ugly today. But you know what? It turns out that when something is ugly, talking about beauty isn’t just permissible; talking about beauty is obligatory in a time like that. Why? Why would we talk about beauty after the ugliness of today? Because our kids need to know that this isn’t what America is. What happened today isn’t what America is.

They have been given a glorious inheritance for the 59th Presidential election. If the Vice President wasn’t in the Chair and if the President pro tempore was, I would have made some joke that has voted in two-thirds of those 59 Presidential elections. He is laughing. It is not as good as “hit deer, deer dead,” but it still got a Grassley laugh.

I don’t think we want to tell the Americans that come after us that this republic is broken, that this is just a banana republic, that our institutions can’t be trusted. I don’t think we want that. We don’t want that in this body, and we don’t want that in our hometowns. I don’t think we want to tell our kids that America’s best days are behind us—because it is not true. That is not who we are. America isn’t Hatfields’ and McCoys’ blood feud forever. America is a union.

There is a lot that is broken in this country but not anything that is so big that the American people can’t rebuild it, that freedom and community and entrepreneurial effort and that neighborhoods can’t rebuild. Nothing that is broken is so big that we can’t fix it.

Generations of our forefathers and our foremothers—probably not a word—and our ancestors have spilled blood to defend the glories of this republic. Why would they do that? Because America is the most exceptional nation in the history of the world and because the Constitution is the greatest political document that has ever been written. Most governments in the past have said might makes right, and we saw some of that hooligan nuttery today. Might makes right. No, it doesn’t.

God gives us rights by nature, and government is just our shared project to secure those rights. America has always been about what we choose to do together, the way we reaffirm our constitutional system. We have some governmental tasks, and we all in this body could do better at those governmental tasks, but the heart of America is not government. The center of America is not Washington, DC.

The center of America is the neighborhoods where 330 million Americans are raising their kids and trying to put food on the table and trying to love their neighbor. That is the center of America.

We are not supposed to be the most important people in America. We are supposed to be servant leaders who try to maintain a framework for ordered liberty so that there is a structure that, back home where they live, they can get from the silver-framed structure and order to the golden apple at the center, as Washington would have said, which is the things that they build together, the places where they coach little league, the places where they invite people to synagogue or church.

Sometimes, the biggest things we do together are governmental, like kicking Hitler’s ass or like going to the moon. Sometimes, there is governmental stuff. But the heart of America is about places where moms and dads are raising kids, and we are supposed to serve them by maintaining order and by rejecting violence. You can’t do big things like that if you hate your neighbors. You can’t do big things together as Americans if you think other Americans are the enemy.

Look, there is a lot of uncertainty about the future. I get it. There is a lot that does need to be rebuilt. But if you are angry—I want to beg you—don’t let the screamers who monetize hate have the final word. Don’t let needlists become your drug dealers. There are some who want to burn it all down. We met some of them today.

But they aren’t going to win. Don’t let them be your prophets—instead, organize, persuade, but most importantly, love your neighbor. Visit the widower down the street who is lonely and doesn’t want to tell anybody that his wife died and he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Shovel somebody’s driveway. You can’t hate somebody who just shoveled your driveway.

The heart of life is about community and neighborhood, and we are supposed to be servant leaders. The constitutional system is still the greatest order for any government ever, and it is our job to steward it and protect it.

Let’s remember that today when we vote. The VICE PRESIDENT. The Democratic leader.

Mr. SCHUMER. The Senator from Illinois, Mr..

The VICE PRESIDENT. The Senator from Illinois. Mr. DURBIN. Mr. Vice President, in March of 1861, a Springfield lawyer caught a train to Washington. His name was Abraham Lincoln. It wasn’t his first trip there. He served as Congressman 15 years before and returned in the beginning of the Civil War to serve as President.

It was a different place than he knew as a Congressman. In 15 years, it had changed a lot. The Sprigg’s boarding house across the street, which is now the Library of Congress, was gone. And this building was changing—big changes. They were building a dome on the Capitol. But they were also in the earliest days of war, and President Lincoln was counseled: Stop building the dome. It costs too much money. We can’t spend any more time on it.

And he said: No. We are going to build that dome, and we are going to finish it. That dome and this building will be a symbol of this country that will survive this Civil War and come back strong.

So they built the dome. They won the war. And since those days, that dome and this building have been a symbol to this country, a symbol of unity and of hope.

Tours come through here—before COVID-19—by the tens of thousands. If you have ever noticed their tours, they are often shushed. People are saying: Show some respect for this building.

We know this building and the Rotunda as a place where some of the greatest American heroes of both political parties lie in state, and we go there to honor them. We know this building because we work here. We enact laws here that change America. We gather for State of the Union messages from Presidents and honor the people in the gallery.

This is a special place. This is a sacred place. But this sacred place was desecrated by a mob today, on our watch. This temple to democracy was defiled by thugs who roamed the halls and sat in that chair, Mr. Vice President, the one that you vacated at 2:15 this afternoon—sat and posed for pictures, those who were roaming around in this Chamber.

What brought this on? Did this mob spring spontaneously from America? No. This mob was invited to come to Washington on this day, by this President, for one reason: because he knew the electoral college vote was going to be counted this day. He wanted this mob to disrupt the constitutional process which we are part of. This mob was inspired by a President who cannot accept defeat.