PRAGMATIC ISSUES

Of course Donald Trump tore down the East Wing. This is the man who never seemed to understand that one of the many jobs of a sitting US President’s is to facilitate and coordinate the two party’s working together, not use their arguments for his own personal agenda. So it makes perfect sense that he thinks the White House is his own personal property.

Why preserve history when you can bulldoze it for a ballroom big enough to host your own ego?

In what might be the most on-brand act of hubris since Nero tuned his lyre, Trump has decided that America’s problem isn’t poverty, hunger, or the collapse of basic governance, it’s the lack of a sufficiently huge place for him to dance under chandeliers shaped like his poll numbers.

The People’s House, now The People’s Hall (with bottle service)

Ahhh, The East Wing, the part of the White House associated with First Ladies, public tours, and actual symbolism of accessibility is now rubble.

The official line? A “modernization.” The unofficial reality? A vanity project dressed in marble and paid for by “friends of mine,” which sounds suspiciously like the world’s sketchiest GoFundMe or our tax dollars.

Although, Trump swears taxpayers won’t foot the bill, though his definition of not paying for it tends to shift somewhere between “Mexico’s paying” and “trust me.”

And it’s not as though the country is looking down the barrel of a Federal Government shutdown, hungry families are queuing at food banks, or democracy is wobbling on the edge. No, no, what America truly needed was a 90,000-square-foot ballroom so the president can finally host a gala for his grievances in the house that does not belong to him. Yes, yes, Trump forgot that bit.

Preservationists, historians, and people with eyes: “What?”

Architectural experts are horrified.

Historians are apoplectic.

And the public?

Furious, 53% disapprove of demolishing the East Wing, while the other 47% probably thought “East Wing” referred to a new MAGA resort or a new border wall.

This wasn’t just an office wing. It was the people’s entrance, the home of the First Lady’s staff, the space that connected history to humanity. But to Trump, it was “wasted real estate.” Nothing screams populism like knocking down part of the White House to make room for a champagne fountain.

Now, predictably, the spin has begun. The demolition, we’re told, is “transparent.” But Trump scolded staffers for sharing pictures of the demo. To be fair, White House staffers thought that transparency meant doing it so publicly that nobody can miss the wrecking ball. Aides insist it’s a “gift to the American people.” Hmm, yes, the same kind of gift that comes with your credit card maxed out and your house on fire.

Trump himself has lashed out at reporters who dared to question him calling one “third-rate” for asking why the people’s house is being gutted like a bad casino. It’s an all too familiar pattern, deny, deflect, then decorate.

The ballroom as metaphor

The ballroom isn’t just a building. It’s a mirror, reflecting an America where spectacle trumps substance, where the sacred is traded for self-promotion, and where a man who once promised to “drain the swamp” decided instead to host its gala.

And if you listen closely, you can almost hear the ghosts of past presidents sighing through the dust, Washington built a nation, Lincoln rebuilt a union, FDR rebuilt an economy.

Trump? Destroyed the economy, destroyed public trust in government, wants to starve families, children and the elderly to death. Wants to cut off critical health services. He has threatened to deploy military to our cities and to destroy any state or city that’s a blue city or state.

Makes perfect sense that he rebuilt the East Wing floor plan, for himself, rather than funding critical services that have been cut off due to his and his party’s government shutdown.

So no, this isn’t modernization.

It is to put it rather simply, self-monumentalization. The East Wing is gone, and in its place rises the most fitting monument to Trumpism imaginable, a tacky Vegas style ballroom without a soul.