Every time I drive through Great Falls, Virginia, I discover a little bit of my inner Robespierre.
To the extent that I am a conservative, I am one of the Burkean variety—I do not believe in revolution or the guillotine. But in driving the winding roads of northwest Fairfax County, it’s difficult not to think about the inequality brashly displayed through my windshield. The houses are cavernous, probably too big to even call McMansions, though aesthetically they are no improvement. In fact, many of them are breathtakingly ugly, making no attempt to enliven a public realm. These displays of wealth are not like Andrew Carnegie endowing a library; they are more like Clint Eastwood’s daughter setting fire to a $100,000 handbag.
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