On Wednesday, Berkeley was inundated by two armies of American caricatures.

Homegrown Code Pink, at the center of the controversy, stood alongside World Can't Wait activists in their signature orange bandanas-which they doled out to high school students cutting class to get in on the action. They squared off against flag-waving military families and veterans whose uniforms told stories of service and sacrifice. And wherever the forest of peace-sign placards met the sea of stars and stripes, both blank-faced police and curious correspondents stood at the ready.

In some ways the scene-covered widely by national and local media alike-was merely the rowdiest episode in an embarrassing saga that began with what can at this point be safely deemed the Peace and Justice Commission's worst recommendation ever. For the council members, it was a reminder of the world outside its immediate constituency, that theirs aren't the only citizens whose passions move them to protest, loudly, on the city's front lawn.

It was a reminder of the distance-so invisible to Senator DeMint-between the UC Berkeley campus and the city that surrounds it. Among the thousands who gathered to protest, very few were university students, most of whose interest extended to a brief glance skyward to the circling news helicopters.

It was a reminder and furthermore a warning of a national political reality that demands Berkeley put its money where its mouth is. The measures in both the U.S. House and State Assembly to pull funds from the city over its actions, whether justified or not, are an indication that the council's affinity for symbolic pronouncements is not the harmless habit we once hoped. The pillorying of the city in conservative media shows that its antics will not go unnoticed.

But there was more going on in the park on Wednesday than a shouting match between cartoon liberals and the mobilized military fan base, and it speaks better things of Berkeley than the national media is likely to repeat. For while we saw in the protest all the shrill bombast of politics at its worst, we saw also the energy and expression of politics at it best. We saw career activists and the merely curious, grandmothers and preteens-and most importantly, we saw them on both sides of the issue in focus.

And so it was a reminder not just of the council's foolishness or of legislators' love for easy political points, but also that Berkeley remains a worthy venue for debate. The history and connotations of the Berkeley name may make the city vulnerable to judgment, but they also empower it with an ability to draw national attention far out of proportion to its size.

This place has the power to make people of all political persuasions stop and stare. If Berkeley inspires rage when it does something stupid, there's a chance it can inspire admiration just as fierce for taking action that makes sense. It has extraordinary potential; it is among the nation's greatest soapboxes: Next time, let's say something we can stand by.