Update: excellent dissection by Jamison Foser.

In every social setting — be it high school, the office, or Washington, D.C. — there are craven control freaks who use the term "community" as a weapon against those who don't wish to slot into their designated spot in the pecking order. The Heathers in high school, the manic cubicle queen who gossips who's "in" and who's "out", and the self-appointed D.C. social coordinator all endeavor to intimidate those who they believe are powerful into "playing the game." Because, if you're not playing the game, then the control freaks can't hope to win points against you. In their minds, there is nothing about social interaction that differentiates it from warfare. These are some hateful, damaged people, whose sense of identity leans heavily on their puppet-master skills. Exhibit A, Sally Quinn:

Administrations should befriend the locals -- they'll need them in hard times

...
Indulge me for a moment on the topic of our cultural bellwether, "Avatar." In the film, the Pandora natives worship the goddess Eywa, who is the spirit that connects them to their planet. If there is such a goddess in Washington, I believe, it is the spirit of community. Those who live here want to welcome new friends. Washingtonians are open and willing to invite newcomers and make them part of their lives. If they can't do that, there is automatically a distance that is created so that if -- no, make that when -- the administration gets into trouble, there is too little sympathy or support.

When an administration begins to express hostility to those in the community, the Na'vi pull out their arrows with the poison tips and begin taking aim. The rougher things get, the more members of the administration need to reach out, not withdraw. Nobody has ever been able to master this yet. Consequently everyone suffers -- needlessly.

Rarely do I see the threat so thinly veiled as in this embarrassing article in the Washington Post. These people are so intoxicated by their own narcissism, fed by a permanent coterie of sycophants, that they can't even see how ridiculous they appear to those outside their terrarium. And if they could see, they probably wouldn't care. They think it's a great terrarium, after all.

I used to wastespend time in the Burning Man "community," where the primary theme, despite all the marketing fluff, was falling into line behind the so-called leaders of the local tribe. They would invite you to cross onto the cool side of their velvet rope, as long as you tacitly agreed to never question their royalty. Even when the naked emperor's tiddlywink was obviously so tiny.

This same high-school tribal/hierarchical tyranny can be found all throughout primate behavior, but that doesn't mean it's not laughable and embarrassing to witness.