An on-site account of the peaceful transfer of power in Washington

Photos: AP Images

Jake Turx, Washington, D.C.

If his inauguration is any indicator, Donald Trump’s second term as president isn’t just a rerun of his first. It’s a sequel, except with a bigger budget and bolder ambitions

The last-minute decision to move Donald Trump’s inauguration ceremony indoors is already being dissected like a Hunter Biden laptop on a Fox News panel. For critics, it’s a flashing neon sign of chaos and dysfunction; for supporters, it’s a masterstroke of bold leadership, a no-nonsense decision to prioritize safety and order, even if it comes at the expense of his own base. So, which is it? Chaos or control? Maybe it’s both, unless it’s something else entirely.

Let’s start with the facts. The ceremony, originally slated for the traditional outdoor setting on the Capitol steps, was moved indoors to the Capitol Rotunda just days before the event. Officially, the shift was attributed to “extreme weather conditions” and “heightened security concerns.” My guess is Trump wasn’t prepared to risk having a sparse crowd again on account of some lousy single-digit temperatures (his first inauguration was marred by bone-chilling rain).

Since inaugurations are planned down to the millisecond, with contingencies baked in for every imaginable scenario, a last-minute venue shift suggests either a failure to anticipate problems or a decision-making process so reactive that it borders on disorder.

Yet for his supporters, the venue change was a testament to Trump’s bold, take-charge style. Why risk a debacle when you can take decisive action and move the ceremony indoors? In their view, this wasn’t chaos — it was control.

The optics of the indoor ceremony arguably reinforced this narrative. The overcrowded Capitol Rotunda, with its grandeur and historical weight, provided an almost regal backdrop for Trump’s swearing-in. It was intimate yet imposing, a setting that amplified his message of strength and determination against the backdrop of history and antiquity.

Having spent the day before the ceremony watching the inauguration machinery come together in Washington, it occurred to me that ultimately, this indoor inauguration is a microcosm of Trump’s presidency as a whole: polarizing, unconventional, and literally impossible to ignore. Whether it’s remembered as a moment of chaos or control will likely depend on what comes next.

If Trump’s second term delivers the bold leadership his supporters envision, the Rotunda ceremony might be seen as a symbol of his decisiveness. But if it devolves into more of the dysfunction his critics expect, it will stand as yet another reminder of a presidency that thrives on breaking tradition — even when it doesn’t have to.

Pass Protocol

Before my ringside view of history at the White House portion of the event, there was a question to be settled. Either my new White House press credentials were waiting for me inside, or they weren’t.

If my new press pass had been approved, it would grant full, unimpeded access to the West Wing as Trump’s new term begins, a ticket to the front row of history. If it wasn’t there… oh, well.

Everyone I’d reached out to — the press office, the correspondents’ association, even the Secret Service, had been frustratingly vague as to whether or not my name was on the list. There was only one way to find out.

The moment I saw the purple, shiny, new “hard pass,” a wave of relief washed over me so profound that I felt like I’d just been inaugurated myself. I could feel a grin tugging at the corners of my mouth; a mixture of pride, excitement, and — like always — disbelief. As I hitched the pass to my Mishpacha lanyard, a sense of purpose settled over me. This was my entry into the next chapter of history. I couldn’t wait to start writing.

The old, gray hard pass would officially deactivate at 11:59 and 59 seconds, while the new purple pass was supposed to spring to life at precisely noon — or so I was told. Naturally, I knew where I’d be at the exact moment the new president was sworn in. Neither in the Capitol Rotunda nor at the Capital One Convention Center; neither inside the White House nor outside it. At 11:59:59 I would be standing inside the Secret Service security booth at the entrance to the White House grounds, pass in hand, ready to see if the system worked.

At exactly 11:58, I step out of the White House, walk 12 brisk steps, turn around, and walk right back toward the Secret Service security booth from which I’d just stepped away. It’s 11:59. With a steady hand, I scan my old badge — it works. Then my new badge — it works too. I explain my little experiment to the agents on duty, and they chuckle knowingly. I’m surprised that in a White House stuffed to the rafters with journalists, not a single one of them thought of testing the system.

It’s 12:00. The moment of truth. I scan the new badge. It works. The old badge? Works as well. I glance at the clock and decide to wait three more minutes, just to be sure. At 12:03, I scan both badges once more. Both still work. So now what? I look at the agents, and they shrug.

“Guess you’re just extra official,” one quips.

I nod, feeling both amused and slightly baffled. A group of incoming Trump staffers enter the booth, some I recognize from his first term. They wait patiently as Secret Service verifies their credentials. They’re gonna be running the West Wing in a few short minutes. Until then, they’ll continue to wait patiently for this reporter to finish testing out his pair of hard passes.

Two badges, one job, and no idea how this system actually works.

Worlds Apart

In a day of emblems, the two badges were symbolic of the gulf between the two administrations, in terms of both substance and style. On the last day of a presidency, the White House reflects the tone of the outgoing administration, and the contrast between Trump’s and Biden’s were subtle but at the same time unmistakable.

The Biden team, from the morning, were able to say with confidence: “Yes, we’re done with pardons.” The Biden team was more organized, while Trump was still keeping everybody guessing up until the final tock of noon. While Biden’s team avoided the frenzied, unpredictable nature of their predecessors, they also missed out on the drama and opportunity that a meticulously planned final day lacked. It was a trade-off between precision and spontaneity, reflecting the contrasting styles of the two administrations.

But then, on the following morning: the pivot. Of course, they threw in a few last-minute, sweeping pardons to the likes of Dr. Anthony Fauci, Democratic lawmakers who presided over the January-6 committee — and Biden’s own siblings and their spouses. An unusual pardon to the unusual suspects, and nobody found anything unusual about that.

The walls are nearly bare, save for a single sign that reads: “Good jobs, lower costs, better pay.” I can’t tell if it’s a leftover slogan from the Biden team or timeless advice for staffers stepping into the next phase of their careers. Either way, it feels fitting in this moment of transition.

Four Years and Farewell

With the changing of the guard hours away, the last items are packed and memories stored away.

Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierre stood in her office, seconds from departing the White House. The moment, for her, was an emotional one.

In a good example of the gulf between public and private personas, the impression people have of her is not in sync with who she is. To most observers, she’s just a spokesperson. To me, she’s a colleague I had a friendly relationship with and who never turned on Israel even once. I was the first reporter she met walking in, and I would be the last reporter she’d be speaking with on the way out.

The symmetry wasn’t lost on either of us. That first encounter had been surreal in its own right. To say the 2020 transition wasn’t smooth would be like saying the Titanic had a minor navigation issue. KJP had walked into the West Wing that day without having had a single conversation with her Trump counterparts, with nary a clear sense of what to expect. Within hours of starting her new role as deputy press secretary, she found herself locked down in a section of the White House with a handful of incoming staffers and me, a stranger.

In one final encounter of the day, stepping outside, I noticed a man with a prosthetic leg — most likely a veteran, an American hero — bending down to speak with his young son, who looked to be seven or eight years old.

“What you’re going to see tomorrow,’ the man said, “will be in the history books by the time you’re a teenager.”

The boy blinked up at him, his expression betraying mild confusion, as if wondering what all the fuss was about. The significance of the moment was clearly lost on him, but his father’s words hung in the air, grounding the historic weight of the day to come. We’d all be finding out soon enough.

Foreign Muscle

The main takeaway of the ceremony seen around the world is that Donald Trump’s second, non-consecutive term as president clearly isn’t just a rerun of his first.

If his inauguration is any indicator, it’s a sequel, except with a bigger budget, bolder ambitions, and a script aimed squarely at reshaping the global political stage in Trump’s own image. More than a dozen heads of state were in attendance, which is a dozen more than all previous presidents had at their inaugurations, combined. From the outset, it seems clear that Trump is stepping into his new term with a foreign policy strategy unlike any we’ve seen in modern times; more aggressive, more personal, more Trumpian.

The guest list felt more like the cast of a MAGA populist summit. Argentina’s Javier Milei and Italy’s Giorgia Meloni were front and center, embodying the brand of nationalism Trump has long championed. China sent its vice president, while Taiwan sent its legislative speaker, foreshadowing a potential matchup from near the top of the line of succession in their respective countries.

Conspicuously absent? Leftist leaders and, notably, some of America’s closest allies — like France and the UK. The message to the Keir Starmers of the world was clear: Play by the all-new new world order’s rules, or risk missing out on the fun.

Meanwhile, former British prime minister Boris Johnson and Reform UK Party head Nigel Farage were treated to red carpets. Trump didn’t just ignore heads of government of some of our closer allies; he went a step further by inviting their opposition to one of the most-watched political events in the world.

It’s hard to overstate how unprecedented this move is — like CNN inviting Tucker Carlson to host a special report on bipartisanship. This wasn’t a diplomatic oversight; it was a deliberate message.

This approach hints at a much larger strategic pivot. Trump’s foreign policy is shaping up to be a bold, almost theatrical rejection of multilateral diplomacy in favor of personal alliances and public confrontation. Traditional institutions like the UN and EU aren’t just seen as obstacles — they’re foils in Trump’s narrative, symbols of the establishment he and his allies love to rail against. If his first term was marked by “America First” rhetoric, his second seems to be veering toward “MAGA International First,” with Trump positioning the US as the ringleader of a global populist bloc.

Of course, this strategy isn’t without risks. While Trump’s alliance-building with like-minded leaders may energize nationalist movements, it also has the potential to sow instability, particularly in Europe. But risks have never been a deterrent for Trump.

If anything, the stakes seem to embolden him. His reliance on direct, leader-to-leader interactions and public spectacles over traditional diplomatic channels is a hallmark of the Trump style, one that breaks protocol and captures attention. Trump isn’t playing by the usual rules; he’d make waves rather than tread water.

In addition to current and former heads of government, also present were some of the highest profile big-tech billionaires, like Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and Tim Cook, along with the heads of Google, Uber, TikTok, and OpenAI.

And it did not stop there. Some of the best-known media influencers were in attendance as well; in what appears to be yet another angle to Trump’s savvy play of extending his influence beyond US borders, using these leaders and influencers as conduits to untold hundreds of millions of like-minded humans worldwide.

If those audiences begin to see Trump as part of their own ideological fight, he’s not just shaping foreign relations — he’s building a global brand. If so, then perhaps as the 47th president claims, this was the most-viewed inauguration of all time, after all.

I think back to a moment last summer when I asked Trump why he believed G-d had spared his life.

Taken aback, he replied, “So I can save the world.”

It’s since become one of his signature refrains — echoed on the campaign trail, through the transition, and now, as he takes the oath of office. Watching this inauguration unfold, it’s clear that this wasn’t just a soundbite for applause; it’s the foundation of his presidency, a mission statement he seems intent on carrying out.

Comedy Corps

Here’s a tip: If you have a burning question on the day before an inauguration — whether it’s about street closures, accessible White House entrances, or parking logistics — don’t bother asking the Secret Service unless you’re prepared for a non-answer. These agents are masters of deflection when it comes to logistical details. But if you bring up college football? That’s a different story. Suddenly, they’re brimming with knowledge, eager to discuss rosters, game stats, and play-by-play commentary.

Still, the agents are accommodating in their own way. A small cluster assures me I can leave my backpack in the West Wing overnight to expedite my entry the following day. It wouldn’t be a security concern, they concur, nor should I worry about theft.

With a grin, I ask them if they know what the two most frequently stolen items on White House grounds are. They exchange puzzled glances and shrug.

I lean in: “Umbrellas and lawn chairs.”

All three agents laugh in agreement. It’s a quirky, little-known truth that only insiders understand. Next time you speak with a White House reporter, ask them to explain.

Outside, I notice three figures in matching jackets walking toward the White House Residence. Curiosity gets the better of me.

“Are you with the incoming, the outgoing, or the transition?” I ask.

One replies, “No, we’re with the Marines.”

Feigning innocence, I counter, “So, which instrument do you play?”

The Marine looks at me as though I’ve completely lost it, explaining slowly, “We’re officers in the Marines, not in the Marine Band.”

Smiling, I quip, “Imagine the risk I took making a joke like that to three legit US Marines!”

Finally, they catch on, and the four of us share a laugh. It’s been a strange, exhausting four years, and in that moment, a little humor feels like a good call.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1046)