When, far in the future, archeologists and historians search for the Rome of the twentieth century, for the Acropolis of the end of the second millenium, they will probably find Washington, D.C. What else could explain a city consisting, almost in its entirety, of huge opulent buildings, monuments and parks? Two giant statues looking down on its denizens, a fortress the size of a medieval village enclosing a nation’s military high commands, war memorials commemorating every major war of the century…if archeologists could just come up with one day in the life of that city…

That Friday morning, I had been at the White House, the FBI headquarters and the Pentagon. When I went into the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, I thought I was getting away from that world in which, like in The Guardians, every step is monitored by security guards, bodies are scanned for weapons, dogs on leashes scent floors for explosives and the words "No access" are a pervasive sight. But the influence of that police society is not limited to governmental offices -every building in the city seems to be owned by the government.

The Holocaust Memorial Museum is a superb testimony of the horrors of the Nazi genocide. It depicts the history of a process that included early on the abolition of individual liberties and of equality among people, and ended up with the systematic murder of millions. It serves to remind us, and hopefully to prevent something similar from happening again.

But let us go back to Friday’s events. I was in one of the museum’s many exhibit rooms, watching a video on the Nazi Olympics. Halfway through the film, a gentleman in a suit approached me to tell me I had to leave the room. I replied I would leave as soon as the film came to an end. But the man insisted: "You have to leave now". Irritated, I asked for the reason for this sudden command. "We have to look for a lost object", I was told. Unwillingly, I gave up all the time I had spent watching the video and obeyed.

To my surprise, no search for a lost object ensued. A committee of two men in suits and two women walked through the room, escorted by several security guards and by two guides speaking Russian. One of the two men clearly headed the committee, a man in his fifties, stern-looking and with a firm pace. This, I was to discover later by looking at a photo in a recent TIME magazine, was Alexander Lebed, the most popular politician in Russia today and perhaps the most likely heir of Yeltsin for the Russian Presidency. One of the guides spoke to him and to the other man; the women followed suit with the other guide. As fast as they appeared, they disappeared into the following rooms of the exhibit.

I asked one of the security guards for the identity of the visitor. "I am not allowed to reveal that information", he said. Annoyed by the lie I had been told and by this visitor wasting my time in order to just walk through the room, I caught up with the committee, which was now looking at one of the exhibit panels in another room. I do not speak Russian, but I know many old Russians speak German, so I approached the group as they walked away from the panel, and asked them in German whether they spoke that language. The man looked at me and continued walking. One of the two women, understanding the question to mean what language they were speaking, replied in good German that they were speaking Russian. But the conversation ended abruptly; a strong hand grabbed my arm, pulling me away: "Keep away from them". "But I didn’t do anything wrong!", was my nervous reaction. "I know. Just keep away.". I inquired as to the identity of this anonymous assailant of mine. "A U.S. Marshall", he proudly asserted. "And I’m telling you right now I don’t have any more time to deal with you".

Such preferential treatment is always annoying to us mere mortals, but it was especially disturbing to see in a museum dedicated to show the terrible consequences that derive from abuse of power, inequality, loss of freedom and lies. Then again, it was probably a typical day in Washington D.C.