Cage fights at the White House! A gigantic arch! Trump’s gaudy plans for America’s 250th anniversary

. UK edition

A person holding up a model of a white arch with a gold statue on top
A model of the proposed 250ft Arc de Trump, later rebranded as the Independence Arch, is shown during an event at the White House in October. Photograph: The Washington Post/Getty Images

From minting coins featuring his own face to covering buildings with gold, the president’s proposals for marking America’s semiquincentennial say a lot about the country’s backwards outlook

When the United States celebrated its bicentennial on 4 July 1976, it marked the occasion with the opening of the National Air and Space Museum’s exhibition hall on Washington DC’s National Mall. Designed in a boldly modernist style by the blue-chip firm Hellmuth, Obata + Kassabaum (now HOK), it stood as a testament to American aeronautical derring-do, from the Wright brothers to the moon landings.

At the time, even though the stench of Republican political shenanigans was never far off, with Gerald Ford replacing the disgraced Richard Nixon in 1974, there was a sense of a nation embracing progress, looking forward, not back. For all the historical re-enactments of Washington crossing the Delaware, the US chose to see itself through the prism of modernity and technological puissance.

Half a century on, as the country prepares to mark the 250th anniversary of its founding, historical re-enactments have edged out just about everything when it comes to architecture. Intent on stamping his crassly gilded imprimatur on Washington, Donald Trump recently shared the latest iterations of his proposed triumphal arch, first unveiled last October, to be erected just across from the Lincoln Memorial on the Potomac River. His post on Truth Social shows three uncredited versions of the so-called “Arc de Trump” now rebadged as the Independence Arch, embellished with varying degrees of gilding and statuary.

Given Trump’s weakness for bling, the smart money would be on the gilded iteration, a gaudy exemplar of what the American architecture critic Kate Wagner has described as “regional car dealership rococo”. All three versions are modelled on the Arch of Titus in Rome, originally constructed in the first century following Rome’s military conquest of Jerusalem. As a template from classical antiquity, it has popped up throughout history, from the Arc de Triomphe in Paris to New York’s Washington Square Arch.

Initially, Trump teasingly floated a choice of three different scales for his Independence Arch but has apparently alighted on the largest, which would be 250ft (76 metres) tall. And though the scale has alarmed some architectural and conservation experts, who see it as potentially distorting the relationship between existing historic monuments, Trump feels that “250 for 250” – a foot for every year of the US’s existence – chimes perfectly with his ambitions.

“The one that people know mostly is the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, France. And we’re gonna top it by, I think, a lot,” Trump said at a White House Christmas reception in December. For context, the Arc de Triomphe is 164ft tall.

Historically, triumphal arches – the bigger the better – have been catnip to despots of all stripes. Hitler confected one with his pet architect, Albert Speer, for his postwar vision of Berlin as a welthauptstadt or world capital. At a colossal 328ft, it would have dwarfed the Arc de Trump and the Arc de Triomphe.

Trump’s other semiquincentennial wheezes include minting $1 coins with his face on them, thereby flouting an 1866 law that prohibits a living person from appearing on US currency. He also plans to stage a star-studded Ultimate Fighting Championship event in a temporary arena at the White House. It’s hard to imagine any other US president countenancing a cage fight on the south lawn, but we’re not in Kansas any more, and Trump’s cronies in all areas of public and cultural life seem content to enable his killer clown proclivities.

Yet there has been some pushback on his controversial plan to shutter and redevelop the Kennedy Center, a model of elegantly modern formalism by Edward Durell Stone dating from 1971. Trump employed his familiar gameplan for the Kennedy debacle, convinced that he knows better than the experts, and that a “silent majority” actually supports his disruptions.

However, after boycotts by several performers, the US chapter of Docomomo, a global heritage body dedicated to conserving modern buildings, has come out swinging. Its executive director, Liz Waytkus, told the Architect’s Newspaper that “in addition to being a beloved cultural institution honouring the life and legacy of our 35th president, the Kennedy Center is a celebrated work of modern architecture and a landmark achievement by master architect Edward Durell Stone”.

Waytkus added: “Docomomo US remains deeply concerned by the ongoing lack of adherence to the regulatory processes that govern federally owned properties. Sites such as the Kennedy Center belong to the public and must be stewarded transparently, not treated as private assets.” She also confirmed that Docomomo is “joining with like-minded organisations to assert the public’s right to review and participate in decisions affecting these nationally significant places”.

In co-opting history and its symbols for his own ends, Trump clearly sees himself as some kind of untouchable modern Roman emperor, with a penchant for spectacle of both the human and architectural kind. His mandates stipulating that “classical” or “traditional” styles are used for federal buildings are calculated to exert power over public space and stifle any remotely progressive ideals. No doubt he loathes HOK’s National Air and Space Museum.

While the latest iteration of Trump’s overbearing arch may be hucksterishly spun as a tribute to US independence, if he really means to go full Roman, he may want to engage a flunky to whisper in his ear what was murmured to triumphant Roman generals during their victory parades: “Memento mori.” Remember, you are mortal. And all things must pass.