Public funds are acceptable when they glorify power. Fiscal conservatism has not been compromised. It has been discarded.
Monuments say more about power than rhetoric ever can. They harden priorities into stone and steel. Donald Trump’s proposed triumphal boulevard arch, advanced under the banner of celebrating America’s 250th anniversary, is not merely an aesthetic project. It is a public declaration that the Republican Party has severed itself from the conservative identity it once claimed and replaced it with spectacle, excess, and personal glorification. For most of the twentieth century, Republican branding rested on restraint. The party presented itself as the steward of limited government, fiscal discipline, institutional continuity, and skepticism toward executive indulgence. From Eisenhower through Reagan, Republicans spoke of balanced budgets, federalism, and respect for civic inheritance. Even when they expanded federal power, they framed it as reluctant and bounded. Conservatism was defined not by grandeur but by limits, not by monuments but by moderation. That identity has been steadily hollowed out, but Trump’s arch makes the transformation unmistakable. Republicans once criticized Democrats for symbolic excess and taxpayer funded vanity projects. Now the party’s dominant figure promotes a massive public monument whose purpose is neither national defense nor civic necessity, but legacy narcissistic creation. It inverts conservative logic. Government is no longer something to restrain. It is a branding instrument.
In imperial Russia, lavish displays of power coexisted with mass deprivation and political paralysis.
The problem is not commemoration. Many Americans welcome recognition of the nation’s 250th anniversary. The problem is appropriateness. At a moment when millions of Americans struggle with access to health care, food security, and affordable housing, the allocation of millions or potentially hundreds of millions of taxpayer dollars to a monument that will almost certainly be named after Trump is not patriotic celebration. It is misaligned priority. That symbolism deepens when viewed alongside other indulgences. Plans for a $400 million gold accented White House ballroom, gold leaf ornamentation throughout Whitehouse executive spaces, the destruction of historic elements of the Rose Garden, and a broader pattern of aesthetic excess reflect the same governing philosophy. Public funds are acceptable when they glorify power. This occurs while Republicans preside over some of the largest annual federal budget deficits in American history. Fiscal conservatism has not been compromised. It has been discarded. History offers sobering parallels. In late stage France, monumental court spending continued even as bread shortages worsened. In imperial Russia, lavish displays of power coexisted with mass deprivation and political paralysis. In both cases, monuments were not symbols of confidence. They were warnings of elite detachment. Revolutions rarely begin with ideology alone. They begin when citizens conclude that those in power no longer inhabit the same reality.
Long after the speeches fade, the stone may whisper what the slogans never admitted.
That conclusion is increasingly visible in American political conversation, including among conservatives themselves. There is growing discussion about whether the Republican Party can survive in its current form. A party that embraces executive personalization, rejects fiscal restraint, and treats government as a vehicle for self celebration has vacated the philosophical ground it once occupied. Political vacuums do not remain empty. It is plausible that a new party could emerge within the next decade, formed from disaffected conservatives, institutionalists, and independents seeking restraint without cruelty and order without authoritarianism. American realignments unfold gradually. They move through donor shifts, primary challenges, and regional coalitions before they become visible nationally. The collapse of the Whig Party in mid-1850s was not widely predicted until it was unavoidable. Similar dynamics may already be in motion. Whether such transformation requires a revolution depends on definition. The United States is unlikely to experience violent overthrow. But revolutions can be electoral and institutional. When trust erodes, legitimacy fades, and consent weakens, political systems change even if their outward forms remain intact. That process does not announce itself. It accumulates. Looking ahead ten years, stability is the least likely outcome. Fragmentation is far more plausible. If the Republican Party continues to equate power with pageantry and governance with self display, it risks becoming a personal vehicle rather than a durable institution. In that environment, a reconstituted conservative movement or an entirely new party becomes not radical but necessary. If that future arrives, Trump’s triumphal arch may stand as a monument of exquisite irony. Built to proclaim national greatness, it may instead serve as the gateway marking the Republican Party’s exit from restraint and its embrace of spectacle. Long after the speeches fade, the stone may whisper what the slogans never admitted: a movement that once warned against excess decided that a very large, very expensive monument to itself was somehow conservative after all.
About the author ~
Van Abbott is a long time resident of Alaska and California. He has held financial management positions in government and private organizations in California, Kansas, and Alaska. He is retired and writes Op-Eds as a hobby. He served in the Peace Corps in the late sixties. You can find more of his commentaries and comments on life in America on Substack.
