The color of autocrats
By Thom Hartmann
- Grand
Construction Projects: Trump is focused on gold decorations, marble
columns, triumphal arches, and massive ballrooms, prioritizing them over
issues like healthcare, inflation, and housing.
- Historical
Parallels: Similar to Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Ceaușescu, and Louis XIV,
these projects aim to impress, dominate, and create a personal legacy
through monumental architecture.
- Threat
to Republican Ideals: By turning the White House and DC into symbols of
his personal power, Trump challenges the founders’ vision of a modest
republic where government serves the people, not glorifies a ruler.
Trump is trying to get his construction projects done before
Democrats can stop him when they take control of Congress in two months after
last night’s spectacular victories. There’s an urgent reason for that, from his
perspective.
Monday afternoon, on the eve of the midterm election, Trump
stood at the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool and delivered his closing
argument.
But instead of talking about healthcare, inflation, housing
costs, education, or the challenges working families and farmers are facing as
the result of his and the GOP’s policies, he went off on an extended, rambling
rant about fountains, marble, the “arch,” and his other construction projects.
And, repeatedly, about Corinthian columns.
What’s going on here?
Just ridiculing this as “arts and crafts” misses an
enormously important aspect of what Trump’s up to; this isn’t simply the vanity
of a former real estate developer who likes shiny stuff.
Historians will tell you that there’s a long and disturbing
history of brutal authoritarian leaders, particularly fascists, being obsessed
with architecture, massive construction projects, and remaking capital cities
in their own images.
— Adolf Hitler was obsessed with architecture; he spent
countless hours with Albert Speer planning the transformation of Berlin into
“Germania,” a gigantic imperial capital with buildings designed to dwarf
anything built by previous civilizations. His proposed People’s Hall would have
a dome nearly 1,000 feet high: Hitler wanted buildings so massive that ordinary
human beings would feel insignificant standing before them, buildings that
would last like the monuments of ancient Rome.
— Benito Mussolini did the same thing in Italy, demolishing
historic neighborhoods in Rome to construct grand avenues and massive
government buildings; he was deliberately invoking the architecture of the
ancient Roman Empire, saying his fascist regime was the rebirth of Rome’s
long-lost “greatness.” Future generations, he said, would see his buildings and
remember his name and its imprint on the Eternal City.
— Joseph Stalin, who called himself a communist but ruled
like a fascist, planned an enormous Palace of the Soviets featuring a gigantic,
larger-than-life statue of Lenin.
— In Romania, dictator Nicolae Ceaușecu ripped up entire neighborhoods of Bucharest to build his enormous Palace of the Parliament, burning through billions while ordinary Romanians were struggling just to get through life day-to-day.
— And let’s not forget Louis XIV, the Sun King of France,
who turned Versailles into a world-famous monument to his iron-fisted monarchy.
It featured gold everywhere, elaborate ornamentation, massive ceremonial spaces
and ballrooms, and was created to tell his subjects that he wasn’t just running
France: he was France.
Speeches and campaigns last moments to years; buildings and
monuments can last for centuries, even millennia. They reshape how people
experience the power of the state and its monarch, delivering his message long
after their builders are dead.
Triumphal arches tell people that somebody conquered
something, in this case Trump conquering Washington, DC. Covering the White
House with gold tells average Americans that its resident is enormously wealthy
and powerful, making the rest of us feel small, poor, and insignificant.
Collectively, their message is that the nation and its ruler
are one and the same, and that’s precisely the message that Trump is trying to
convey.
This is — quite literally — precisely what this nation’s
Founders were trying to prevent. They’d seen the palaces of the European
monarchs, were disgusted by their ostentatiousness, and had just fought a
successful revolution against the most powerful among those rulers.
They intentionally created something radically different: a
republic, where the sovereignty of the nation rested with its institutions and
its people, rather than any one individual. The president was to be a temporary
public servant: no individual was ever supposed to become synonymous with our
nation itself.
George Washington famously endorsed that idea, voluntarily
surrendering power after two terms, establishing the precedent of America’s
president as a servant of the people rather than their ruler.
The White House was intentionally built to be modest; it was
supposed to be the small-r republican opposite of Windsor and
Versailles. The National Mall was designed to belong to the people, not a ruler
who’d try to name parts of it after himself. They belong to us, not the
guy living temporarily in the White House.
This is why Trump’s architectural obsession is far more
dangerous to the future of our republic than his public admiration of Nicki
Minaj’s ass, his grifting billions, or even the allegations of child rape that
have been leveled against him.
Trump’s goal — like Hitler’s, Mussolini’s, Stalin’s,
Ceaușecu’s, and Louis XIV’s — is to physically remake the symbols of our
republic into symbols of his pseudo-imperial rule. He’s creating his own
personal mythology and legacy in stone and concrete, replacing the
institutional continuity and modesty that republican government is supposed to
represent.
As Obama noted, while millions of Americans are struggling
with the cost of housing, healthcare, groceries, transportation, education, and
retirement Trump is treating us to rambling monologues about gold decorations,
marble columns, triumphal arches, and gigantic ballrooms. It is, quite simply,
a spectacle of “greatness” instead of the substance that government is supposed
to provide to the people of a democratic republic.
Architecture defines history: while a president can be voted
out of office, his buildings last forever. Replace a humble, inexpensive public
golf course that many Black residents of DC love to use with an elegant “five
star” course that only the rich can afford. Build ballrooms and arches and
other monuments to Trump that will cause future generations to think such
garish displays of wealth and power are a normal part of the American national
identity.
When children grow up surrounded by monuments to kings, they
learn that kingship is how things are supposed to be.
Citizens walking through public spaces that awe them and
invoke one single leader take in an entirely different message about the
meaning of America than those who visit spaces that celebrate constitutional
government, remember democratic struggles, or memorialize national
accomplishments.
This is why fascists and authoritarian rulers all the
way back to ancient Rome have been obsessed with redesigning their capitals:
they’re building a new political consciousness, reshaping the citizenry’s
understanding of what it means to have the power to control that country’s
government.
This is why historians repeatedly draw this parallel between
fascist movements and their obsession with architecture.
The danger to our nation isn’t that Trump loves gold; it’s
that he’s using the power of his presidency to remake Washington DC in his own
image, to normalize the idea that he’s bigger than the institutions and the
nation he’s supposed to be serving.
Our Founders understood — and wrote repeatedly — that our
republic depends on a culture in which our public officials know they’re the
servants of the people, not the owners of the country. That culture is
expressed in our laws and traditions but also — as the original architects of
Washington DC, the Capitol, and the White House knew — our buildings and
monuments.
Destroy those traditions and symbols, remake the
architecture of the nation’s capital, and you rip down our republic without
once taking a pen to the Constitution.
If we allow Trump to continue to transform our nation’s seat
of governance into a monument to one man’s ego and power, we lose what took us
a revolution and a civil war to establish: that America doesn’t belong to a
king and doesn’t have a royal family.
It belongs to us.
The question that this new Democratic Congress now faces is
whether they’re willing to defend that idea before Trump makes his fascist
version of America permanent.
And whether, in the two months between now and then, the
judges of America take heart and continue to stand up to this wannabe
dictator’s fascist efforts to reshape our country and its capital.
Now the hard work starts.
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