What do Ron Paul, Nancy Pelosi, and Donald Trump have in common? They’ve all taken a crack at “draining the swamp” of Washington politics. These self-proclaimed “hydraulic engineers” have relied on a phrase that’s become as deeply entrenched in our political discourse as lobbyists in a Capitol Hill restaurant. The metaphor gets its clout from the assumption that Washington, D.C., was built in an actual swamp, a foul landscape that has somehow nourished the rotten politics we all love to hate. But here’s the kicker: that assumption is about as accurate as expecting Congress to meet a deadline—D.C. was never a swamp.

Let’s set the record straight. When George Washington scouted the land for the nation’s capital in early 1791, he wasn’t picking out a mosquito-infested hellhole. Quite the opposite, actually. The site was chosen for its proximity to the Potomac River, not because it was a glorified marshland. Washington knew the area like the back of his hand—it was just down the road from his own estate at Mount Vernon. The land was firm, the riverbanks were solid, and the site was far from the “squishy margins” of Chesapeake Bay. In fact, the city was built on a steadily rising terrain between the Potomac and the Anacostia River, not on some vast stretch of murky, uninhabitable swamp.

Pierre L’Enfant, the French immigrant who mapped out the streets and squares of Washington, recognized the area’s high points immediately. He selected prominent spots for the presidential mansion and the Capitol building—hence why it’s called Capitol Hill, not Capitol Swamp. Tiber Creek, a perfectly respectable watercourse, flowed between the Capitol and the White House. It wasn’t some vile, swampy quagmire; it was a decent creek that was only later turned into a canal, which became unpleasant due to poor sewer systems, not some inherent swampiness.

So, what gives with the swamp talk? Well, it’s a catchy metaphor that’s been twisted into a convenient slogan by politicians who ought to know better. The idea of D.C. as a swamp might be a stretch, but it’s one that sticks because it plays into our collective imagination of politics as inherently dirty, slimy, and in need of a good cleansing.

Fast forward to 2016, when a certain reality TV star turned President promised to “drain the swamp.” Spoiler alert: the swamp is still very much intact and perhaps even deeper than before. The truth is, even if D.C. wasn’t physically a swamp, it’s become one metaphorically—thanks to the endless cycle of political corruption, backroom deals, and special interest groups that have turned the nation’s capital into a breeding ground for all things shady.

But let’s be real here: trying to drain this swamp is like emptying the ocean with a teaspoon. The very structure of American politics—the relentless need for campaign funds, the revolving door between government and private industry—ensures that the swamp will always refill, no matter how many times you attempt to drain it. Politicians come to Washington with grand ideas of reform, only to find themselves quickly sinking into the muck of the status quo.

This is why the swamp will never go away. The metaphorical swamp of Washington, D.C., is here to stay, and it’s as much a part of the city’s identity as the monuments and cherry blossoms. This swamp isn’t just about geography; it’s about a culture of power and influence that has defined D.C. for centuries. Even as the physical landscape of Washington evolved—like when the Corps of Engineers transformed muddy flats into the Reflecting Pool and Tidal Basin in the 19th century—the swampy reputation of its politics only grew stronger.

So, while the notion of D.C. as a literal swamp may be a myth, the metaphorical swamp remains as real as ever. Politicians will continue using it as a rallying cry, promising to drain it while wading deeper into its murky waters. And the rest of us? We’ll keep watching from the sidelines, shaking our heads at the swamp creatures that thrive in this muck-filled political landscape, knowing full well that this is one swamp that will never truly be drained.